Parenting has forever altered my sense of smell.  I hate to seem like I’m taking the easy way out with this prompt – smell…smelly…kids…parenting – but for real, I believe my olfactory nerves have literally shifted since these little delights have marched into my life.

Pre-kids I remember a wide range of primarily positive odors.  Body wash, conditioner, freshly cut grass, chocolate chip cookies – it was a world of memory inducing smells.  Every once in a while I felt the jolt of cigarette smoke, smog, or skunk, but those were the exceptions.

I still have a healthy appreciation for the happy smells (is there anything more glorious than freshly baked bread?!), but lawd, the rest of my smells have gotten R-A-W.

I won’t even play the dirty diaper card.  How about baby vomit, after it’s dried while you’re trapped under a sweaty, feverish child?  Or dog poo that’s been tracked throughout your home by a kid’s sneaker?  The overwhelmingly toxic fumes of milk gone sour in their rooms, sweat soaked socks buried at the bottom of a hamper, or ripe armpits after a day of recess and P.E. – all shocks to the system.

It’s not that I don’t stumble across the wonderful smells anymore.  I guess the horror worthy ones have just multiplied and made their presence impossible to ignore.

Sniff, sniff.

Linda’s weekly Stream of Consciousness post welcomes all bloggers.  Click over to check out its participants.  This week’s prompt is “smell.”