“What’s that…?”

It’s a game I play. By myself. In my own head. Oh the self camaraderie of motherhood.

“What’s that smell?” Or “What’s that stain?” Or “What’s that… uhh… shoot, lost my train of thought. What am I doing again?”

Laying in bed earlier today I played “What’s that smell?!” Ok. Definitely not pleasant. But not necessarily totally vile either. My son looks at me and smiles, yes we bed-share, I smile back and think – you’re stinking up my bed.

Waking up a little more my brain starts to go through the checklist of possible items defiling my nose. Ah! That’s it! It’s the smell of urine… Yay! I smile at my son again. He enthusiastically babbles something loud two inches from my face. I imagine it is something in the lines of, “Your bed is my toilet!” Which isn’t entirely far from the truth.

I make a decent effort to pat feel the bed as I get up. Hmmmm, nothings wet must just be a really soaked diaper. Meh, he’s moderately soaked.

I get the little dude changed – new diaper, freshly laundered clothes. I get changed – slip the same shirt I’ve been wearing for the past 3 days back over my nursing top, and 2 day old blue jeans.

Oh look “What’s that stain on my knee?” Looks like poo. Scratch. Sniff. Oh no, it’s just some of last night’s rocky road ice cream.

Most of the time the “What’s that” game is short lived. Easy peasy mommy detective work. But throughout the day the smell returned. Again. And yet again. The same smell from my bed this morning.  

Well, in reality that smell never left me because, there it was. On me. When I located the perpetrator it dawned on me that it had been there all day long. And probably deposited there during the wee hours of last night.

Sometime between lunch and James’s last nap I realized the smell clung to the side of my stomach where it had dried. Lovely.

Sipping my room temperature coffee, I looked blankly at James and smiled watching him as he tried his hardest to pull his pint sized self into the dishwasher.

Just another mommy moment to be thankful for. Optimism is in the eye of the beholder. My coffee may be from this morning and room temperature but at least it’s half full.

Blissfully Entropic

Samantha

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