The Difference

My breakfast, made for me, every morning. Yep.

That's the name a friend of ours here has given to the helper they hired a few weeks before they had their first child.

So I'm poaching it.

Because without doubt, our helper is The Difference.

She is the difference between me feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed by this new journey into motherhood, and me feeling like I actually love every minute (which I do).

She's the difference between me hating multiple daily encounters with my extremely long-cycle washing machine, and me not actually having put a load on in 2012 (which I haven't).

She's the difference between me detesting how hard it is to do grocery shopping in Hong Kong, and me being able to outsource it every day (which I do).

She's the difference between me undoubtedly eating far too many bags of chips and pieces of toast and Mint Slices, and me actually eating more healthily than I have in donkeys (if you ignore the chips and the Mint Slices).

I'm quite sure she's also the difference between my husband and I having daily blow-ups over who should do what and deciding we don't actually like each other all that much, and us actually enjoying each other's company and having time just to talk about Fletch and life (which we do, if we've finished watching the next episode of The Good Wife).

It's no secret that I have a love/hate relationship with Hong Kong. Well, I tell you, having a helper in the absence of the support of family and old friends, is certainly tipping the scales in the love direction. And all of a sudden, I can understand why people find it very hard to leave this place.

It's the difference, as a new mum here, in a city that is so easy and so not, between falling apart and just having the chance to plain fall in love.