Wednesday, August 8, 2007

A Cautionary Tale

Ok, I promise you that this is not going to become a Mommy Blog, but I have got to share this little story about Wil. Partly because I know writing is therapeutic and the exercise might help me feel better, cleaner, and partly as a warning to all those newbie moms out there. I feel a little like Lady Macbeth at the moment, except it is not blood I keep washing off my hands…

Living in Toronto these past weeks has been like living in someone’s armpit. The dank humid air smells skunky; it’s rank stale heated air that just hangs there; clinging, clogging every pore. It’s noon, and the sun has reached its zenith, a blazing eye burning in the sky, its mocking me. It sees the future.

I had just fed The Boy, and changed his diaper before putting him down for a nap. I decided not to put his shorts and tee back on because he really didn’t need it- he was too warm.

About two hours later he awakes…I can hear his soft little coos, he is babbling away in a language only other babies and stuffed animals understand. His electronic frog Baby Tad is in the crib with him and they seem to be playing nicely. Tad is singing “If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands”. I love it when he wakes content, it makes me happy. All is right with the world. I figure I can leave him up there a bit, and finish up the kitchen. I have done this before, when he allows it, it helps me get stuff done. Heck he is safe up there in his crib. It is a few moments before I realize Tad is no longer singing, and Wil is not longer cooing. Come to think of it, it’s been quiet for awhile. Too quiet. I dry my hands and make my way upstairs.

Just as I turn up the last few stairs the smell hits me like a moose on the highway. I groan- this is going to be a helluva diaper change. Oh it was a tad more than a diaper change.

The first thing I noticed was how brown his hands were on the crib bars, and what is that on his leg…is that…? OHMYGOD that is! Oh, oh please no. I edge closer, my face in my hands, I am whimpering a little and my eyes are tearing from the smell. Baby Tad is dead, lying tits up in the crib, his lifeless keypad will never again light up and sing. He seems to have had the worst of it- I could no longer clearly make out his features. It was only his blue “On/Off” pad on his foot that identified him.

The crib sheet looks like Van Gogh’s Starry Night, except the medium was clearly not oil on canvas. The rungs were coated as well, his security blankie “MooCow” lay half in/half out of the crib. It looked like it was trying to escape- but never quite made it. I sympathized. I was pondering my own escape.

But The Boy is there, looking up at me, smiling with all of his three teeth, arms up in the air. He wanted up- but I wanted to run and hide. Damn where is a level four containment suit when you need it?

I picked him up, holding him at arms length, and carried him to the bath. I turned on the water and just let it run while I wiped, and cleaned, and wiped and cleaned, all the while muttering soft though not quite religious prayers. I did it over and over again until the water ran clear. But oh, oh I still had the rest of the mess to deal with. It was waiting for me. Waiting there in the bedroom, in the cruel, cruel heat of the summer.

There is a lesson here folks: They may be warm, and they may like to run free with just a diaper on, but I don’t recommend it. No, I don’t recommend it at all.


Jo said...

ROFLMAO! Well written. RIP Tad.

Gertrude said...

Oh jeez you just cracked me up!

I know I have been to this same fetid dark place but thankfully the years have dimmed the memory.

Well Dear, it is now official - you are in the club!It is only a matter of time I predict before you will find yourselves dicsussibg diaper contents over the dinner table with your closest parent-friends and your childless friends will wonder where Nadine and Don went !

Just remember this too will pass or should I say Wil will pass

Sue said...


Be thankful it happened at home.

walkergirl said...

Is it wrong that I can't stop giggling?

Nuclear Mom said...


Poor dead Tad.

Tina Chaulk said...

OMG, soo funny. Hope it's all cleaned up now though.

Marked_one said...

LMFAO...Nadine can I just say that as bad as I feel for you, I couldn't stop giggling and then laughing out loud?!?!?!....All I can say it Karma can be a bitch

Shelby said...

oh it sounds so familiar to what my son did when he was little - I thank you for the smile you gave me for this post!!

they are precious aren't they - and yes at arms lenghth at times is quite necessary! :)

happy Thursday!

WhitbyDude01 said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
WhitbyDude01 said...

Nadine asked me to get rid of "Tad" and I ended up throwing it in a container in the garage. Problem was, I would see its poor, tortured, shit stained face every time we drove the van in and that eventually got me to break and I stuffed it in another bag. So if you end up coming across a baby kaka smelling garbage bag that periodically says "touch the red triangle" you can blame me for it.

Mike Orsag said...

I will take this into advisement!!!! Funny yet I feel like it will be real to me in a couple of days.

nadinebc said...

Real. Beautiful. Magical.

Nothing else quite like it.

You two will be great parents.