>> Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Now how about the sent of a warm, fresh dirty nappy? Nope, a loaded diaper does not invoke the same kind of reaction as home made chocolate chip cookies.
I would do about anything to get me some fresh cookies once I caught the smell of them baking. And I have done some major weird stuff to avoid having to change a pooh filled pamper!
According to some articles I have read….its not my fault!
Scent stimulates nerves to fire in the emotional center of the brain, but it also stimulates the master gland to release hormones. Hormones affect the fight or flight response, as well as digestion and heart rate.
Anxiety, depression, fear, anger, and joy all emanate from this region. The scent of a special fragrance can evoke memories and emotions before we are even consciously aware of it. When smells are concerned, we react first and think later.
(Source LeDoux, JE, Rationalizing Thoughtless Emotions, Insight, Sept. 1989)
Like when I’m working in the Church Nursery with another volunteer. If I catch a faint whiff of something funny, I react first and think later. My first reaction when I know one of them rug rats just laid a major loaf is to slowly move to the other side of the room.
If I can keep my gag reflex under control, my second reaction is to play dumb. Act like I don’t smell it in hopes the other volunteer will take care of it. But chances are she is playing dumb too. Well I’m not backing down…now it’s a game of will power…who can stand the smell the longest. She has no Idea who she is up against…I estimate in my life time as a mother I’ve changed over 4500 poopie droopies. I got this!
I know I’m winning when I see her eyes start to water…HA! So now we are both avoiding eye contact when one of the little buggers blurts…
“Ewwwww poo poo tink, poo poo tink!” Dang gumit!! When did that bugger learn to talk?
There is something just so wrong with crawling around on the floor and sniffing little back-sides, but that’s just what we had to do to find the guilty party. This does not make me a happy camper, and I don't care what kind of saint you think you are...No one would be happy doing this.
In my head I say a little prayer as I sniff little bums, I was on my knees after-all.
"Please God ….please let her find the pooper…I’ll never yell at my kids again! Please don’t make me clean up the doo doo." What! I'm in a Church, it can’t hurt right? Please don't think I'm a bad person...I'm not really…I love babies…just not their crap…anyway it’s the hormones talking!
I suddenly have a craving for home made cookies….