Rice Cereal

Rice Cereal

People are strange. I happen to know this because I may be one of the strangest. Some people have to straighten a crooked picture frame while others may throw spilled salt over their shoulder. I am well aware of the fact that I have many idiosyncrasies, but for fear of being locked away, I am only going to talk about one of them. I have this insane desire to smell laundry. I don’t smell dirty laundry, I’m not a total nut, I just smell clean laundry. Before I get dressed my clothes have to pass the sniff test.
Needless to say, washing clothes takes me longer than the average person. I must smell the clothes as I transfer them from the washer to the dryer. Folding and putting them away, as you can imagine, takes up quite a bit of my time. I hate doing laundry so you might think I would zip through it as quickly as I could in order to move on to more exciting things. This, however, is not the case.
Anyway, I was folding a load of whites one day when I picked up one of my daughter’s shirts to take a whiff before folding it. I was surprised when I didn’t smell the intoxicating odor of Tide and Downy. The shirt smelled clean but it had an entirely different scent. I brought the shirt to my face again and deeply inhaled. I was immediately taken back in time.
My children are currently eleven, seven, and five years old so I was dumbfounded to be smelling that sweet baby scent I detected on the shirt. I smelled rice cereal. I love that smell. It is the most familiar baby smell other than baby powder and lotion (and poop). I so loved the baby stage, maybe that’s where my mind was when I smelled that shirt.
All three of my children were good babies, not that babies are normally bad, mine just didn’t do a lot of unjustifiable crying. Due to medical problems I can no longer have children but I do suffer from baby fever occasionally.
I enjoy the smell of rice cereal, so in turn, I enjoy feeding babies. They look so cute when they open their little baby-bird mouths for a bite only to close it prematurely, receiving half a bite while the rest gets mushed on their top lip (or smeared across their cheek if they get too excited). You scoop it off their face to try once again to deposit it inside their mouth. The baby laughs, squeals, and squirms with enthusiasm at the whole process. Oh how I miss it.
Now, having said all this, I do enjoy getting all the way through my own meal without having to stop to share bites with a little one who leaves their slobber on my spoon. I enjoy being able to go somewhere without having to pack a diaper bag and buckling a baby into a carrier and safely securing the carrier into the backseat of the car. My youngest is still in a booster seat but he can buckle himself in, if he has trouble his sister is right there to lend a helping hand.
Yes I love the baby stage and miss it from time to time, but I am enjoying learning and growing alongside my children. At times I have been at a loss, not knowing what is the right thing to do for them, but we have managed nicely so far (although I am a bit nervous about the teenage years). I have faith we will make it to adulthood without too many psychological scars. Each one of my children has brought something very special to my life. In the end, my hope and prayer is that I have brought something lasting and just as special to each one of their lives as well.
So I no longer have to buckle a baby into a car seat or feed them rice cereal. I no longer walk around with baby puke spilled down my back, or not notice until we’re in the middle of a store or restaurant that we have a smelly diaper situation. I appreciate where we are now and look back with warm fuzzy feelings when I smell an unexpected reminder of days past, and look forward with curios excitement to what lies ahead.