My mother worked till I was born and started working again when I join kindergarten, but she felt that I was too young to be left alone without anybody at home. Many mothers put their kids in daycare, but my mother felt too uneasy about it, so she hired a woman who used to work for my grandmother in Lagos to take care of me.
When she left 4-5 years later nobody was happier than we were.
First, she was an awful caretaker. she would hit me and scream at me for the littlest of things. the most vivid memory I have as example would be when I disagreed with her on something and she called me a ''very bad, stupid girl'' and would repeat the same thing over, and over again, her volume increasing each time. As a 6 year old who was very touchy, I was running around the living room screaming ''no I'm not'' while crying my eyes out. She didn't even care!
Second, she would bad mouth my family everywhere, even when we were nothing but nice and respectful to her, even when she didn't deserve it. It was horrible. She would complain to her friends and family that we would hit her and not give her any food, that we wouldn't let her go out of the house etc. This came as a great shock to my parents, who condemn all act of violence against domestic help; it angered them that even they never did anything to hurt her, they had to face such disrespect and hostility from her and her neighborhood. It was after they hired our second nanny, another lady from the neighborhood, to take care of us that the accusations were lifted. Our second nanny even admitted that she was terrified when she came because of all the things that she'd heard, but was incredibly surprised to see that none of them were true. That's how much damage was done.
Third, she would throw out anything she deemed 'old' or 'useless'. Oh, and that included my favorite plush toy I got from my uncle, the dress I wore for my naming ceremony, my baby toys etc. As I said, I was a very touchy six year old, and was incredibly attached (and still am) to my things. And one day, I was looking for my toys and couldn't find it. Strange. I went to my nanny and asked her if she saw it anywhere. flippantly, she said (to my face) that she threw it away. I instantly started crying. When my mother found out, her time was up.
I would never want a child to experience this kind of blatant hate by someone entrusted to take care of them. Ten years later, I think she's the reason I rarely cry; you wouldn't if you were ridiculed the way I was.