Crack Sniffer

Last night we did what every sophisticated, well-read American family would opt to do on a Sunday evening. 

We watched AFV (America's Funniest Videos, for those of you who may not be as high-brow as we) on Netflix. Yes, that's right, a rerun of America's corniest, most repetitive show ever.

There is comfort in this show, for in it, we are reminded that some things never change: It is instinctive in the male species to laugh when another of their kind are dealt a blow in their nether-regions. No matter how many successive scenes of similar fate, they will laugh afresh when it would seem most natural to cringe in sympathy. I digress.

It was while we were curled up, all comfy cozy on the couch, that I noticed the five year old male child sniffing his fingers like they were something illegal. He noticed my noticing and shoved his fingers up my unsuspecting nose. 

"Smell that?", he asked with something akin to pride in his voice.

"That is absolutely GROSS! ( boyhood knows no greater compliment) Go wash your hands right now and do NOT stick your fingers in your crack ANYMORE!". Turns out, he was sniffing "crack". His own.

Sixteen hours later, the offensive odor remains firmly imprinted on an unknown nostril follicle and with every whiff of air, it assails my senses. I keep checking the twins for dirty diapers, forgetting the source is on my very persons.

****

This, among other reasons, is why The Coffee Cottage has remained dormant.

What is there to say that will deeply edify the lives of my dear, few readers?

Does any one really need, or care to know that I have a foreign speck of feces on an unidentifiable nostril hair which I cannot rid myself of? What is the need to add another voice to the thirty two zillion mommy blogs (many of them brilliant!) out there? Do I even want to write about motherhood when I am feeling so aptly ineffective in it, even as it remains the greatest privilege I have ever been given.

I love to write. I do. It is a creative outlet for me. It is now, though, that I am stepping back and considering, with prayer, what I want to write about when a rare "free" slice of time comes my way.

Thank you for your patience (mom. and Ashley)!