“Have you ever used Jamaican blue soap?” my nanny asked me a few weeks ago while folding Kaia’s laundry.

She wasn’t surprised that my answer was no. “When I first saw Kaia’s burp cloths, I knew you didn’t have the blue soap,” she said, smirking. “The Jamaican blue soap is the secret to how I keep all my whites VERY WHITE!”

She’s not kidding. As soon as summer officially began with Memorial Day here, she’s worn an endless stream of white outfits to our home, and I can say without hesitation that her whites.. are blindingly WHITE. They legitimately all look brand new, as though she just purchased them the previous day. I don’t think anything I own is as white as any of her clothes. And well, I never really took the time to properly clean them outside of throwing them into the washing machine. She takes great pride in keeping her whites extremely white; she sets aside time every laundry day to separate out all her whites and hand scrub them with Jamaican blue soap before adding them to the washing machine.

We got some pretty annoying mango and apricot stains on the high chair straps (thanks, baby led weaning…), and our nanny worked her magic on them with the Jamaican blue soap and an old clean toothbrush. After seeing this, I decided to try this technique out using the blue soap on the mesh bassinet sides that Kaia used to lick constantly. These were heavily stained brownish grey. Well, this freaking soap worked: the brownish grey marks were completely gone.

This Jamaican blue soap really is magic. I suddenly got really excited, wondering what else I could use this magic soap on…

In the last few months of being out and about with baby on Saturdays, it’s only become increasingly obvious to me how unfriendly New York City is to babies. Given how much real estate here costs, restaurants and businesses tend to have teeny tiny bathrooms with barely enough space for a toilet and a sink, much less a changing table or adequate facilities to change the diaper of a baby. Almost every weekend, I inevitably have to get ready to change our baby on some filthy floor, using our portable changing pad that I would immediately throw in the wash as soon as I would get home. It’s gross, but it’s all I have to work with. A couple weeks ago, Chris was able to change the baby in the restroom at the newly renovated Penn Station atop a real changing table, which was the very first time she had a changing table to get changed on in New York, at least outside our apartment. And today, while at a newly renovated office/communal dining space in Midtown East, not only was I able to comfortably change her on what looked like a brand new changing table in a brand new bathroom, but I was even able to roll the stroller into a huge bathroom stall so that I could pee and not hold her. It was amazing! The stall was so long and wide that the stroller could fit inside the stall with me, with additional space for me to stretch my legs out and pee in comfort. I couldn’t believe it!

How nice it would be if every public restroom in New York City could be like this, just for the sake of families with young children. But alas, that is an unrealistic expectation in a city and a country that is generally hostile towards young families and babies.

When we had a night nurse come support us after Kaia’s birth for three months, she didn’t feel comfortable going through our cupboards to get a glass or plate on her own, so we always left a glass and a mug out for her to use for tea, water, or anything she wanted to drink. Because of this precedent, we also did the same thing for all the trial nannies who came, as well as our current full-time nanny. Apparently, this really upset our nanny on her first day, as she shared this with me yesterday.

“I was really upset on my first day when I came to work for you,” the nanny said to me yesterday. “You left out a cup and glass for me on the counter and said I could use those to drink.”

I was super confused and was waiting for the point. “Wait, so what was wrong with that?” I asked. I really had no idea where she was going with this.

“Because I felt like you were telling me that I could only use that cup and glass, and that I wasn’t allowed to use any other cup or plate or spoon,” she responded. “It was as though you were saying I wasn’t good enough to use the other cups or bowls you had. But then, I realized I had too quickly made that assumption because the next day, you laid out a different cup and glass, and I felt bad for jumping to that conclusion so quickly about you!”

I told her that was completely ridiculous, that I had explained to her that I left them out for her convenience. I even reminded her I told her to use whatever plates or utensils she wanted when she brought lunch and to use our microwave as she needed. But she apparently just tuned out when I pointed out that cup and glass on the first day, which was completely on her.

“You have to understand… I’ve been through a lot as an immigrant to this country,” she said to me. “People have not always treated me nicely, so that’s why I’m quick to judge and make assumptions. I know that’s not always fair, but I do it to protect myself.”

She and her husband had comfortable white-collar jobs in Jamaica. Before coming to the U.S., she was an accountant at a small firm in Montego Bay. She dressed up for work and wore heels. She spent money comfortably and lived well. She called herself a “princess” when living in Jamaica; she didn’t know what it was like to suffer or be looked down upon. Then, she came to the U.S., and everything changed for her. Nothing translated. Getting her papers took forever and was expensive and challenging. She realized that she was never going to become an accountant here and had to quickly find a plan B, and that plan B ended up being nanny work.

“All my nanny families have treated me relatively well, but there are many times when I have wondered what they really think about me,” she lamented. “They look down on me. They don’t think I’m smart or am educated. They don’t consider what my life was before I came here. I actually had a good career in Jamaica. Sometimes, my husband and I wonder if immigrating here really was better for our family.”

It’s a common immigrant story – people who are highly educated in their countries of origin, but that education doesn’t translate well in the U.S., and so immigrants work as cab drivers, nail technicians, or nannies. I feel for her a lot. But I also told her… I don’t honestly think I’ve done anything to make her feel lesser than or unappreciated. If anything, I’ve tried to do more to make her feel welcome and comfortable here. It would be nice, especially now that she’s been with us over a month, for her not to assume the worst of us. We’re all just trying our best to be good people and do the right thing.

Our nanny told me today that there were a lot of stereotypes based on the race of nanny families that nannies tend to have. As you’d probably guess, the average family these nanny friends have all worked for has been white, so any time they have worked with a non-white family, any good or bad stereotypes are based on usually just a single family or two. A couple of her nanny friends advised her not to take the job with us: “Chinese and Indian families are so demanding! They will expect so much and treat you terribly! They will nitpick you to death!” She said she didn’t get that sense from us during the trial, so she wanted to give us a chance, and so far, she’s glad she did. We’re the first family she’s ever worked for where she finally felt like she could be herself, she told me. “I feel like I can speak my mind and I won’t get punished for it here,” she said to me. “I can say things like ‘White people,’ and not feel like I just offended you!” She said she was particularly touched when she told me that the Trader Joe O’s I got her didn’t taste the same as Cheerios, and the next day, she saw the Joe O’s were replaced by a box of Cheerios. She said she was really surprised… in a good way. She even went home and told her husband how immediately I acted on that feedback.

Well, not all the stereotypes were bad. One nanny friend asked our nanny if we cooked a lot. She told them I did and would often offer her food, but she told me she had to decline occasionally because she was scared she would gain too much weight. This nanny friend told her that the last Chinese-Indian couple she worked for cooked so much that after just a couple months of working for them, she gained over 20 pounds! Our nanny said she did NOT want to repeat that for herself!

“You know, by the time I stop working with you, I will have become completely Asian!” the nanny joked with me this morning after I handed her a matcha oat milk latte I had just whisked.

Since starting with us just over two weeks ago, she has been introduced to matcha I’ve made. She’s sampled multiple Asian dishes I’ve made. She regularly drinks our Sri Lankan Dilmah tea. She’s enjoyed hand cut and peeled fruit, including Mexican ataulfo mangoes, which she revealed she’d never purchased before because she thought they looked small and wimpy compared to the larger Haitian mangoes she was used to buying in New York during mango season. Since I introduced them to her and she realized how good they were, she has started purchasing them because of me.

She’s also regularly listening to Mandarin Chinese nursery rhymes with Kaia and also trying to learn how to sing them, which I think is the most adorable thing. That’s one area where she’s totally one upped Chris. Her Chinese pronunciation, even though she has no idea what she’s saying, is far better than his.

Even though I wasn’t sure what our dynamic would be like with my working from home and her being in the next room with the baby, so far, it seems to be going pretty well. We talk occasionally and get to know each other, but when I’m working, she respects my space and doesn’t interrupt me. Hopefully, it continues to go well.