However much we may like to bash the place, life in the UAE comes with many perks - the beach, shwarmas, limited interaction with soggy, cold tights.
For me, reigning supreme at the top of the perk pecking order is being able to have a nanny. It may sound spoilt, but I simply don't know how my homelife would function without one. I am now on my second nanny and feel truly blessed to have had these fabulous women in our lives.
As a working mother, I can't always be there for my children in the way my mother was for me. In the absence of my mother, sister or great-aunt Fanny down the road, our nanny, Florie, fills the child-minding gap. I value her and the calm she brings to my life. Which is why I got a shock the other day when, for the first time, I felt jealous of her.
As mothers, we all want the people who look after our children to truly care about them. We ask complete strangers to love our children as if they were their own; to show them warmth, patience and kindness. But then when, naturally, a bond forms, it can feel as if your motherhood is under threat. This surfaced in the car one morning when my daughter asked if Florie could come with us to the Wiggles concert, and go down to the stage with her to give a rose to Dorothy the Dinosaur. Before I even registered the feeling, the shameful words were out: "What about me?" I felt pathetic, like a baby bird stretching a skinny neck out the nest for a scrap of love. Even worse, she hushed me down with a mature, "Yes, Mummy. We can all go together." Which one of us is the adult? And then, "Why does that make you sad?" How can she tell from the back of my head? "It doesn't make me sad at all," I counter with as much bounce as I can muster. "I can't wait to see the Wiggles."
But the truth is, it had made me feel a bit sad. I know children go through phases of particular favour, and this is Florie's moment in the sun. Next week it'll be me, or daddy, or someone else. But it made me question why this had sparked my reaction. If it had been my mother, sister, or even a friend of mine, she'd picked, I'd have felt pleased. So, why not with Florie?
For a professional opinion, I sought out Jared Alden from the German Centre for Neurology and Psychiatry (www.gnc-dubai.com). He says, "Even at a young age, children understand who their parents are. The nanny is never mom. That said, she can be a great support and, of course, the children can - and will - love her. This is a sign you chose the correct person to look after your kids. Great job!"
Alden always brings a positive spin to a tricky situation. "If the nanny loves them, too, then your children's safety is assured." True. "It isn't a problem, it's natural. It means you love your kids and want to be everything to them." See what I mean, he's turbo-charged me from failure to supermother in less than 20 seconds.
Alden explains that the concept of traditional family roles doesn't help those mothers who are confused about where a nanny's job stops and a mother's duties start. He says, "Did you have a stay-at-home mom who baked cookies, and seemed to live in the kitchen? Just because your nanny does this now, it doesn't mean she has a stronger relationship with your children than you do... but she does have a different one. Bring the self-esteem that you have at the office home and realise that different doesn't mean better, or more important... just different. The more loving people who are in our children's lives the better. It is not confusing for them - it helps teach them social skills and that the world is a great place. Nothing can take away your child's love for you. You are mom. Trust in that."
He's right, of course. And deep down I knew it all along. Do I need my child to validate her love for me by choosing me over everyone on all occasions? Surely it would be a much more worrying issue if she couldn't form bonds with others, and couldn't face new situations without me.
Ultimately, the fact that Florie has bonded with the children so well that they feel happy in her care is a credit to her - and the outcome I desire. I can't knock it. I don't want to change it. I just have to gather up my emotions, the hurt and the fear, and take it on the chin. Like a mother.
Aquarius is tweeting
Follow Louisa Wilkins on @louisa_aquarius
For more columns in this series, visit www.dubaimumsclub.com.
