Friday, June 24, 2011

Lesson #11:Something Always Stinks

Lesson #11: Something Always Stinks

Dirty diapers, soiled bed linens, vomity clothes. It seems like every time I turn around another gross smell is assaulting my senses. I remember one night, while sitting in the living room catching up on world events (translation: reading US Weekly), I kept getting a whiff of some kind of nasty. I couldn't figure out what it was, and I think I finally blamed hubby's feet before realizing that, um, it was me. More specifically, the zip up sweatshirt I always throw on when hanging around the house. I'm a pretty visual person so it wasn't until I looked down and saw the whitish smear all down the arm of said garment that I remembered having experienced the Baby Blast (see Lesson #5) earlier in the night. The offending odor was not hubby's feet but rather the crusty baby vomit that I was wearing as an accessory. Awesome.

A few nights ago I went upstairs to put the baby to bed and was greeted with the overwhelming stank of urine. Don't you just love when you forget about a peed-on bed until you go to put the child back in that bed? That's always a fun time. Well, not as much as actually getting peed ON, which also happened to me this week... Only when I encountered the smell did I recall hubby telling me in vivid detail how completely soaked through the little nugget was when he woke up. We'd even had a whole conversation around switching to the next size diaper and possibly trying a different brand. I blame Mommy Brain for completely forgetting about the whole thing.

Anyway, the other night we had another kind of smell on our hands (literally-you'll see!). I caught a whiff of butt stink so I took the little dude to the changing table. I opened his diaper and, sure enough, it was choc full- one of those really disgusting all-the-way-to-the-front poos. Which I accidentally stuck my fingers in. Gotta love that! Three fingers right in the butt muck. I opened the wipe bin chanting "Ew, ew, ew, EW!" only to find just one wipe left. I quickly wiped off my fingers and started opening another package of wipes. In the meantime, baby boy thought we were having a grand old time and started kicking his feet like crazy, getting crapola all over his feet. Which he then smeared all. over. the. place. Fabulous. Needless to say, that night homeboy got his first bath in the big tub. I wasn't taking any chances with that much poo all over the place.

Right now we're playing the oh so fun game of Something In My Kitchen Stinks And I Can't Figure Out What. I was convinced it was the trash can but we've cleaned and sanitized it and I still smell something gross every time I come downstairs. I wondered if we'd lost a bottle somewhere and the formula was forming some crazy mutant mold, but we aren't missing any bottles. Then I thought maybe my oldest, who has a really bad habit of leaving dishes everywhere, had lost or spilled a cup of milk somewhere but I came up empty on that one too. Now I'm left to imagine all sorts of horrible things. Like what if a squirrel or a mouse or some other vermin somehow got into our house and found its way into the wall or under our cupboards and died and I'm actually smelling rotting carcass? Or what if a piece of food got knocked under our stove or behind the dryer and is turning into a putrefied mass with maggots growing on it? *shudder*  Hubby, who I'm convinced was born without a sense of smell at all, keeps sniffing the air and saying, "I don't smell anything" and looking at me like I might have a screw loose. Be that as it may, there is something making my kitchen smell like a garbage truck and I WILL find it!

Being a parent's a smelly job but someone's gotta do it. And if that someone is me, then I think I deserve to spend copious amounts of money at Yankee Candle to aid in my defunkifying efforts, don't you?      

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