WARNING: This post is not for the weak stomached. Most likely, if you
don't have children, you probably haven't been desensitized to cope
with the daily disgusting happenings that can occur, sometimes on a
daily basis. So continue at your own discretion.
It's been a rough week. The kids haven't felt well (dealing with a croupy
cough), and I've still been enduring my morning/all-the-time sickness.
Yesterday was a busy day. We left the house at 8 a.m. and didn't
arrive home again 2:30. I left the van littered with sippy cups, backpacks,
and papers to quickly lay the kids down for their afternoon naps.
After dinner, I realized I'd left the children's cough medicines in the van as
well. My sweet spouse offered to bring in all the chaos I'd left outside.
As soon as he returned inside, I detected an overwhelming odor. The only
way I can describe it is like someone had vomited putrid milk. Being
pregnant and having a heightened sense of smell, I immediately retreated
from the kitchen to the family room.
"How long have these sippy cups been out there?" Jason asked, half
"They're from today!" I reassured.
He had also brought in a coffee mug from his car that did have mold
inside. We thought that was it. Since it was plastic, it was tossed and
the garbage taken outside.
I noticed the horrible smell was infiltrating the family room as well. What
could it be? Jason was unable to find the source, and since I was on
the verge of puking, I recommended lighting a bunch of candles. Jason
found the matches and furiously lit as many candles as he could.
I suggested we get the kids to bed and look for the source later. Upstairs
Jason noted the smell was worse than it had been downstairs. This
was a mystery. What was going on? I picked up James and laid him
down to change his diaper. I pulled back the diaper tab. Similar to the
force of a mac truck hitting a brick wall, it hit me.
"Jason!" I screamed (in such a way that he thought I was mortally wounded).
"Here! It's his diaper! I'm gonna puke! HELP!"
Like a knight in shining armor, he rushed in. "Quick, get out of here!" he
ordered. I scurried out, gagging and choking.
Once I regained my composure, I retrieved a grocery bag from the kitchen
and asked Avalon (4) to take it to her daddy. A minute later, Jason rushed
down the stairs with the offending diaper in the bag but still insisted for
me to hold my breath as he passed. The diaper went outside, and I finished
getting the kids ready for bed.
The next thing I saw was Jason lighting matches in every room to consume
the remnants of the most disgusting thing either of us have ever encountered,
which is saying a lot since I'm a nurse.
It occurred to me that Jason started lighting those matches so quickly that he
probably hadn't washed his hands first. Upon inquiring, my fears were
confirmed. "Great, now I'll have to wash my hands after touching that match
box every time I light a candle," I complained. He didn't seem to care and
was much more concerned with the task at hand.
Once everything calmed down and the kids were in bed, I called both
our moms, recounted the story and laughed at the absurdity of not having
realized earlier that a diaper was the source of the awful smell. But to our
defense, it didn't smell like dirty diaper. I was asked what the darling boy
had been eating. "Nothing out of the ordinary," I answered. Even now, I
can't think of what could've caused such a thing. Adventures in parenting... .
If someone who has yet to experience the true joys of having children has
been brave enough to read this post until the end, I must reassure you that
moments like these are far outweighed by sweet memories and lovable cuddles, heartbreaking hugs, and slobbery kisses.