where the hell is my pickle fork? i can't have anything nice with you kids.




For those of you who know me well, you'll know that I'm always looking for my pickle fork. Or my right shoe. Or my turkey baster. Yeah, that one is my favorite( I've got a story about an alternative use for a turkey baster, but I'll save it for later). Nora has an obsession with squirting the turkey baster in the bath. I was looking for it last night, and I found it in the linen closet. The linen closet that smells moldy and has towels crammed in it haphazardly. Once you have kids, nothing is yours anymore, nothing is clean anymore, and strange odors follow you around.

I started the day by leaving my bathroom, which was redolent with Dove soap and Kenzo's Flower Perfume. As I entered the living room, I smelled stale air. Hitting the kitchen, I fell to my knees, praying for smell relief. WHAT THE HELL STANK SO BAD??? Imagining curdled chicken skin clinging to the trash bag, I threw open the garbage in the kitchen, and found nothing. As I got close to the laundry room I remembered the nasty feather pillow I had left in the dryer. For some reason anything that was ever an animal product stinks like holy hell if you wash it. No, that was not the culprit. But I was getting close. I unlatched the garage door and the stench hit me like a dead corpse. POOPY DIAPERS! Over the course of the week, six poopy diapers had been left to ferment in the 108 degree garage. No wonder their stinky magic had started to invade the house.

I wish I could say that was the end of the filth for the day but it was not. Nora has been dragging a 10 foot Memorial Day streamer that deposits paper stars all over the dirt-stained carpet. Suitcases litter my bathroom, waiting for me to pack for Michigan. The back windows have drool marks from my precious charges leaning against them constantly. And if the windows are dirty, I have to flee. The dirt, clutter and insanity have literally clouded up my world. As I was loading up the car, I realized that I found the missing bottle I've been looking for. There is no mistaking that sweet, acrid smell of old milk.

I can't believe I live this way. I used to watch those Calgon "take me away" commercials and wonder what the hell was wrong with those women. I didn't understand how it could be so hard to keep it all together, clean, and smelling-good. I get it now. I really get it.