Living with Boys is a 4D Experience

Have you ever been to one of those movies that involve all of your senses by immersing you into the film to such a degree that you feel the rain in the movie as water is spritzed onto your face or smell a blast of the hot chocolate lit up on the screen? That is what it's like living with boys, only it's not hot chocolate that I'm smelling. If you were to spend time in my home, you would quickly realize that there are many experiences for the senses. Not only are there noises that reach painful decibels, toys and boy-related items in every corner of the house, video games in play mode, and numerous food items at the ready at any given moment, there are also certain smells and not all of them are pleasant. 

Shoes seem like an innocuous item, right? Everyone wears them and most of us are perfectly comfortable removing them in the presence of others to free our toes and relax. And yet, the smell emanating from one of my son's sneakers once prompted my husband and me to spend 30 minutes looking for what we thought must be the corpse of a decomposing mouse. It was only after looking behind every piece of furniture and in each box or bin of boy stuff, and coming up empty, that I finally traced the smell to a pair of sneakers that had been recently removed and placed on the floor next to my son's feet as he sat on the sofa. It wasn't until that day that I realized the human foot could produce such a noxious odor yet still look perfectly normal. I'm just glad we didn't end up calling the exterminator. I can only imagine how that conversation would have gone if he'd been the one to locate the 'dead rodent' (a.k.a. my son's shoes). 

The bathroom is another constant source of unpleasantries. From the persistent smell of urine that doesn't dissipate no matter how many times I wash the floor and toilet, to the stench that seems to follow my son long after he leaves the bathroom and invades each and every room he enters. There seems to be a daily assault to one's nasal passages that may prompt you to grab a jar of Vick's VapoRub and smear it under your nose. I have tried a plethora of room sprays to address these putrid odors but have yet to find one that can combat the smells emerging from the bathroom or following the originator of such aromas. On one hand, I suppose I should be impressed with the sheer power of their stink, but I have to live here so that acknowledgement goes unrecognized.  

And this leads us to those bodily functions that have both audio and scent components. These are perhaps the most insidious as they can be inharmoniously noisy or sneakily silent. From loud belches to muted stink bombs, I am plagued by a bouquet of smells that I would avoid if I a) knew they were coming or b) could leave the room before they swept into my nasal passages. The resultant giggles and smirks that I receive when I alarmingly declare my cringe-ridden disgust guarantees that the warnings will likely not be forthcoming, so I shouldn't hold my breath. Well, actually I should hold my breath, but then I'd be holding for hours at a time. 

Ultimately, living with boys is a 4D experience. I just don't have to like every dimension.