Oh Hell, That Smell…

Sometimes it is obvious. Like the morning after I fail to take the trash out after making salmon for dinner or the poopy diaper left sitting on the changing table. Bet then there are the days when I spend HOURS trying to find where in the hell that smell is coming from. One time I spent a week trying to figure out what smelled so sour in the living room, only to realize the hubs had not rinsed the grass off the riding lawnmower before parking it in the garage. Then there was the time I spent the day changing the baby, myself, and sniffing every piece of furniture in the house only to discover the rotten milk smell was the baby barf in my hair. Yep.

So, today’s smell is a cross between spoiled milk and poop. I am airing out the house, burning candles, scrubbing the kitchen and even cleaning the carpets in the hopes of riding my home of the smell devil. I fear what I will find. The Rock Star has become skilled at getting his own snacks and drinks, and then leaving them in fun places.

But, $20 bucks it’s me. I haven’t showered in two days. Last night I got the boot from the Rock Star while snuggling because I had bad breath and last month I couldn’t figure out why Itty Bittys head smelled like B.O. then I realized it was from me nursing her and having her head near my armpit.

I am Amy. I am disgusting. I need a twelve step program sponsored by DOVE for Real Women. Actually who am I kidding; shampooing and shaving are too many steps at one time for me these days.

Signing off to go buy stock in Arm & Hammer Baking Soda and Fabreez…