being mum//an ode to bugadoo

There once was a toy ladybug pillow called Bugadoo. He arrived into our family via a random shopping trip at the Coles near our house. Bailey was still in my tummy. After B. was born she and Bugadoo {not known as that at the time because he had yet to be named by his owner} were kind of stand-of-ish friends because, well, B. was a baby and Bugadoo didn't squeak or crinkle or rattle. At precisely six months of age Bailey and Bugadoo became firm friends. 

At one B. {who was now, age-wise, ready to sleep with toys in her bed} and Bugadoo became one. They did everything together. When B. started kindy/day care Bugadoo went with her. When B. went to bed Bugadoo was by her side. One day, after a particularly busy day at kindy, Bailey left Bugadoo behind and for three nights the two friends were seperated. Bailey's parents bought her a Mickey Mouse pillow/blanket/kinda sleeping bag to soothe the Bugadoo void. By Monday morning Bugadoo and B. were reunited and all was right with the world. Until...

One night Bugadoo was lost. Forever. Trips to Kmart and Target yielded no results for a replacement and, so, the family returned home, dejected. It was then, at their lowest point, that the youngest, one Bailey Gaff, had a lightbulb moment. He's at ball's house! she exclaimed. And so he was. "Ball's house" happened to be the side of our house where her balls lived. Happily ever after resumed.

And then one day, there was shopping and play lands and some more shopping and Bugadoo was really lost forever. Almost five years together and B. and Bugadoo were no longer. B. cried. I cried. Husband searched the shops the next day but, alas, Bugadoo was gone. The toy shop in which he had been left had no clues to his whereabouts and we can only assume that someone looked at his ragged state and assumed he was a) trash and threw him in with his people or b) so well loved and in need of more so took him home. Either way, whoever met Bugadoo deserves a lengthy jail sentence and should be very ashamed of themselves. But enough about them...

And in all seriousness, we miss Bugadoo. He was a toy, yes, but he was a big part of our lives. B. sought comfort in his soft squishy form. He purchased ladybug themed gifts for B. at Christmas and B. went on special shopping trips to buy Bugadoo gifts of his very own that she "helpfully" unwrapped for him. They were two peas in a pod and their bond made me happy.

Now that Bugadoo is gone I kind of miss him. Even his weird faded eyes that made him look dead inside. Even though his stuffing had lost its "stuffed" quality. He meant everything to B. so he meant everything to me. She gave him a kiss and hug every day before she left for school. When she was scared all she needed to do was grab Bugadoo and she'd feel brave. Now she has none of that. She's lost her comfort-toy, a special part of her childhood, and my heart breaks for her.

Without Bugadoo she feels alone at night. No amount of stuffed toy buying will create that security for her. I know one day she'll feel right again but until that day comes I kind of feel lost, as though I failed at parenting in some way, as if I failed her.

I like to soothe myself with the idea that some little kid picked up Bugadoo and had never been able to have a toy before. Perhaps his mum said that Bugadoo was lost and needed someone to love him and now that kid and Bugadoo are best friends and Bugadoo is helping make someone else feel safe. But, look, lets face facts, even if that's true that kid is a stupid fucker, Bugadoo is scared and alone andd probably turning evil like that bear in Toy Story 3 and those parents should be forever sleepless.

The end. 

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