I don't know what smells worse, my kids or their dog, but either way our house is bathed in the essence of funk. I've spent a small fortune on Febreeze candles to try and burn out the stank, I regularly spray Lysol like I'm trying to delouse the Huntsville Gen Pop, and I leave doors open to air out the foulness despite the influx of mayflies, yet the funk remains.
So, who let the stink out? Well, despite all my efforts to teach my children good personal hygiene, they are swamp people who prefer to stew in their own juices. It's a real low point of motherhood when your six year old son walks by and you catch a whiff of sewage wafting from his bottom region and you realize a secondary clean -up crew (yours truly) is going to have to get in there pronto with a power washer. Or you walk into your nine year old daughter's room to be physically repelled by an invisible wall of super funk because using soap in the shower is for losers.
I knew raising kids would be difficult, but what I did not know is, it would be such a violent assault on my olfactory senses. Yikes. And I would never have dreamed there could be so many different malodorous scents emanating from two little bodies! They're like that jungle flower that looks good, but smells like rotten flesh.
Now, they would, and often do, blame the dog and to be fair, the dog smells, well, like a dog. But I can hardly blame the dog for smelling like dog. At least he smells like the animal he is unlike the small humans I live with who often smell like old, dank, ass.
Of course, the more I resist the more it persists so maybe I should embrace their necrotic bouquet and find a positive outlet for dealing with it. Like keeping a journal where I record each child's daily perfume:
May 9, 2014: Today, Daughter smelled like feet and onions. I watched a rose whither and die as she went past.
June 5, 2014: Son smells more like dog than our dog. At first, I thought he was attracting blow flies, but then realized they were just regular old flies.
May 26, 2014: Daughter memorialized the American worker by smelling like a sewage-treater after a double-shift. Happy Memorial Day!
July 4, 2014: Son showed his independent spirit today by projecting the delicate aroma of burnt turd.
You see, I'm a positive thinker who finds a way to cherish all aspects of my funkified children.
Happy Mother's Day.