This dreadful, rainy, tiring Friday finally comes to an end. I sit at the kitchen table, feeling dazed with exhaustion.

Ms Pritchard kept me at work till past seven. And little Leila was fast asleep when I collected her from day-care. I put her to bed without a bath, without a story. But still, I sat for a little while beside her, stroking her face. Singing her lullaby to her even though she was already way off in dreamland.

Even when the winds blow icy
And the stars in sorrow hide
Just remember
I will never leave your side.

I’m too tired to eat, so I sit with a mug of rooibos, opening today’s mail. Just one letter – but it is the final straw to break the camel’s back of this bad day. It’s the invoice for next month’s day-care – with a seven per cent increase.

Insane! It’s like some vicious cycle. I have to put Leila in day-care so that I can work. I have to work to afford day-care. Round and round and round! I am like a pet hamster on one of those revolving wheels.

If only, I’m thinking, if only I could stay home and take care of my little girl myself. If only I could spend all day, every day with my little Leila. How wonderful that would be. What a privilege.

Shalani has that privilege, doesn’t she? Yes, my dear friend doesn’t have to worry about day-care for her twin baby boys. She could spend all day with them if she wanted to. But no, she’d rather leave them home with the housekeeper while she goes off shopping and getting her nails done!

And then, come Saturday night, she wants to be off at some fancy function with DK while I must babysit her sons. I should charge her! Yes. Because if the housekeeper babysat, Shalani would pay her well. So why the hell should I do it for nothing?

Round and round and round my thoughts go, just like a hamster on its treadmill: faster and faster and getting nowhere. Just getting more and more bitter.

I reach for my phone. I’m going to WhatsApp Shalani. I’m going to tell her: If you want me babysitting, I want compensation!

But just then Leila cries out in her sleep and I run to her. Hold her tight.

“It’s alright, my baby girl. It was just a bad dream.”

Softly, I sing her lullaby to her. Slowly she relaxes, and slips back into sleep.

I go back to the kitchen table and my rooibos, even though it’s gone cold. I’m shaking my head at myself. Thank goodness I didn’t WhatsApp Shalani. What was I thinking? That would be the most embarrassing thing in the world, demanding money for helping out a friend. Especially after all the times she has helped me out.

“Get a handle on yourself, Jane!” I order myself out loud. “Stop with this bitterness and this jealousy. You know what your Mama always told you: Jealousy makes you nasty. Why would you want to be nasty?”

I admit: I often talk to myself out loud – with only the dirty dishes in the sink to hear me.

***

Tell us what you think: Given how she is struggling financially, should Jane ask for payment for babysitting?