April 5: Britney Spears
(Note: I was on vacation for a
week and had no access to Wi-Fi. Because of this, my note-a-day was
written longhand. I will be transcribing them over the next little while until I am caught up.)
-
Fourteen years ago, when I lived in Saskatchewan, I met a girl named Donna on the local telepersonals chatline. She was 27, she said, and had three kids. Ages ranged from six to one. Single mom. I asked her how she managed and she said that she also had a live-in nanny named Nadine.
A couple weeks later, I went to the local mall to meet Donna and Nadine in person. Donna was as she described herself - medium height, long brown hair, brown eyes, medium build. Nothing could have prepared me for Nadine.
I'm being kind when I tell you that Nadine was morbidly obese. She was wearing grey sweats and there were large wet stains under both armpits. She didn't walk, she waddled. I wish I could say I'm exaggerating but I'm not. Her hair was dark brown, pulled back in a severe bun. Her face spotted with acne. She was eating from a large box of New York Fries. She scowled at me. This was not unusual. I would soon come to learn that Nadine scowled at everything and everyone that was not Donna.
Donna and I found a table in the food court to talk. Nadine sat at the next table and finished her fries. When she was done, she went to the Manchu Wok and got herself a combination plate. Donna didn't even notice. She was busy telling me about why the father of her first two children was in prison and why the father of her third child was such a right bastard. She told me that she loved Britney Spears, who had just released Baby, One More Time. "Nadine and I dance to it all the time in the living room." This was a visual I did not need.
That night, Donna and I talked on the phone. I asked about Nadine and Donna said that she was 17 and had been kicked out of her house by her parents.
"Nadine dropped out of high school," Donna confided. "She refused to go back and she won't work either. Her parents told her that she wasn't going to freeload but Nadine wouldn't listen. So she's
out."
"So you took her in?"
"Yeah, I felt sorry for her," Donna said. "I give her room and board and she looks after my kids when I go out. It's a pretty sweet deal."
Donna and I decided to go for dinner and a movie one night. I went to her place to pick her up.
She lived in a three-bedroom townhouse in one of the city's low-income housing projects. Donna had the master bedroom, her oldest son had one bedroom, the two youngest had the other. Nadine, it turned out, slept on the couch in the townhouse's common room. To Donna's credit, the couch unfolded into a bed. The common room was filthy, littered with Nadine's dirty laundry and countless takeout bags from McDonalds, Burger King, Arby's and Subway. On this particular evening, Nadine was sitting on the couch eating Fudgee-Os and drinking Mountain Dew and watching Jenny Jones on TV. Donna's youngest child, clad only in a diaper, was sitting next to her. He wasn't nestled up to her. He was sitting on the opposite end of the couch as if he wanted to be as far away from her as possible.
Nadine didn't even acknowledge me. She didn't offer me any Fudgee-Os either. Behind her, an Everest of dirty dishes filled the kitchen sink.
I found Donna in the upstairs bathroom, crimping her hair. Her two oldest boys were in her bedroom, playing a video game on the TV in there. They seemed excited to see me. The oldest wanted to show me his Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtle colouring book. The middle one wanted to show me his stuffed animals. I enjoyed a good 15 minutes of bantering with them and then it was time to leave.
In the living room, Donna barked some instructions to Nadine: "The kids need to have a bath before bed," she said. "And please have this room cleaned up when we get back, Nadine, okay? It's your mess."
"Can I have some money for pizza?" Nadine asked.
"There's twenty dollars on the kitchen counter."
"That will only get me - us - a medium."
"That's all I have."
"Whatever," Nadine sneered and went back to Jenny Jones where a chunky blonde twentysomething was chiding her boyfriend for sleeping with both her sisters and her brother.
I did not enjoy the dinner or the movie that night. I kept thinking about Nadine. I was willing to bet my bottom dollar that Donna's kids would go unbathed and that the townhouse would still be a pigsty when we got back.
I was wrong.
It was worse.
As we approached Donna's front door, we could hear Nadine yelling at someone to shut up because she couldn't hear the TV. The door opened on a scene from hell. The two oldest boys were running around in their underwear, chasing each other with plastic swords. A now empty grease-stained pizza box rested on the back of the couch. The room smelled of shit. The source of that smell was the youngest one's diaper. He was sleeping on the couch and his diaper bulged like a tumor. On TV was an episode of Wheel of Fortune.
"Nadine," Donna said. "This place is a dump."
"I got period cramps," Nadine said. "Hurts to get up."
"That's what you said last week."
"They're your kids. You clean up after them."
Donna sighed and walked me to the door. I didn't know her very well and thought it would be improper to tell her that she was getting a raw deal in the Nadine sweepstakes. I wanted to tell her that she had four kids, not three, and that the only benefit she was getting was that technically, she wasn't breaking the law when she left her kids at home. Nadine was far from being a responsible adult. She was a co-dependent teenager stuck in early adolescence.
"Thanks for the evening," she said, and kissed my cheek.
"Looks like you have a long night ahead of you."
She sighed and frowned a little. "I don't know what to do."
"I do," I said.
-
Fourteen years ago, when I lived in Saskatchewan, I met a girl named Donna on the local telepersonals chatline. She was 27, she said, and had three kids. Ages ranged from six to one. Single mom. I asked her how she managed and she said that she also had a live-in nanny named Nadine.
A couple weeks later, I went to the local mall to meet Donna and Nadine in person. Donna was as she described herself - medium height, long brown hair, brown eyes, medium build. Nothing could have prepared me for Nadine.
I'm being kind when I tell you that Nadine was morbidly obese. She was wearing grey sweats and there were large wet stains under both armpits. She didn't walk, she waddled. I wish I could say I'm exaggerating but I'm not. Her hair was dark brown, pulled back in a severe bun. Her face spotted with acne. She was eating from a large box of New York Fries. She scowled at me. This was not unusual. I would soon come to learn that Nadine scowled at everything and everyone that was not Donna.
Donna and I found a table in the food court to talk. Nadine sat at the next table and finished her fries. When she was done, she went to the Manchu Wok and got herself a combination plate. Donna didn't even notice. She was busy telling me about why the father of her first two children was in prison and why the father of her third child was such a right bastard. She told me that she loved Britney Spears, who had just released Baby, One More Time. "Nadine and I dance to it all the time in the living room." This was a visual I did not need.
That night, Donna and I talked on the phone. I asked about Nadine and Donna said that she was 17 and had been kicked out of her house by her parents.
"Nadine dropped out of high school," Donna confided. "She refused to go back and she won't work either. Her parents told her that she wasn't going to freeload but Nadine wouldn't listen. So she's
out."
"So you took her in?"
"Yeah, I felt sorry for her," Donna said. "I give her room and board and she looks after my kids when I go out. It's a pretty sweet deal."
Donna and I decided to go for dinner and a movie one night. I went to her place to pick her up.
She lived in a three-bedroom townhouse in one of the city's low-income housing projects. Donna had the master bedroom, her oldest son had one bedroom, the two youngest had the other. Nadine, it turned out, slept on the couch in the townhouse's common room. To Donna's credit, the couch unfolded into a bed. The common room was filthy, littered with Nadine's dirty laundry and countless takeout bags from McDonalds, Burger King, Arby's and Subway. On this particular evening, Nadine was sitting on the couch eating Fudgee-Os and drinking Mountain Dew and watching Jenny Jones on TV. Donna's youngest child, clad only in a diaper, was sitting next to her. He wasn't nestled up to her. He was sitting on the opposite end of the couch as if he wanted to be as far away from her as possible.
Nadine didn't even acknowledge me. She didn't offer me any Fudgee-Os either. Behind her, an Everest of dirty dishes filled the kitchen sink.
I found Donna in the upstairs bathroom, crimping her hair. Her two oldest boys were in her bedroom, playing a video game on the TV in there. They seemed excited to see me. The oldest wanted to show me his Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtle colouring book. The middle one wanted to show me his stuffed animals. I enjoyed a good 15 minutes of bantering with them and then it was time to leave.
In the living room, Donna barked some instructions to Nadine: "The kids need to have a bath before bed," she said. "And please have this room cleaned up when we get back, Nadine, okay? It's your mess."
"Can I have some money for pizza?" Nadine asked.
"There's twenty dollars on the kitchen counter."
"That will only get me - us - a medium."
"That's all I have."
"Whatever," Nadine sneered and went back to Jenny Jones where a chunky blonde twentysomething was chiding her boyfriend for sleeping with both her sisters and her brother.
I did not enjoy the dinner or the movie that night. I kept thinking about Nadine. I was willing to bet my bottom dollar that Donna's kids would go unbathed and that the townhouse would still be a pigsty when we got back.
I was wrong.
It was worse.
As we approached Donna's front door, we could hear Nadine yelling at someone to shut up because she couldn't hear the TV. The door opened on a scene from hell. The two oldest boys were running around in their underwear, chasing each other with plastic swords. A now empty grease-stained pizza box rested on the back of the couch. The room smelled of shit. The source of that smell was the youngest one's diaper. He was sleeping on the couch and his diaper bulged like a tumor. On TV was an episode of Wheel of Fortune.
"Nadine," Donna said. "This place is a dump."
"I got period cramps," Nadine said. "Hurts to get up."
"That's what you said last week."
"They're your kids. You clean up after them."
Donna sighed and walked me to the door. I didn't know her very well and thought it would be improper to tell her that she was getting a raw deal in the Nadine sweepstakes. I wanted to tell her that she had four kids, not three, and that the only benefit she was getting was that technically, she wasn't breaking the law when she left her kids at home. Nadine was far from being a responsible adult. She was a co-dependent teenager stuck in early adolescence.
"Thanks for the evening," she said, and kissed my cheek.
"Looks like you have a long night ahead of you."
She sighed and frowned a little. "I don't know what to do."
"I do," I said.
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