signature scent.

Perfume…I don’t know if this is a problem in the homes of every other parent I know, or I’m just lucky. I’m voting lucky, because, well that seems to be typical around here. For those that missed it, I mean lucky in the most sarcastic way possible. 

I don’t recall at 15, 16, 17, or even 18, requiring a full coat of an over powering mixture of the scents of vanilla and fake flowers, in order to leave the house. I would however assume that if that were the case, I’d actually be able to smell myself. Seems most of my precious snowflakes can’t at all smell themselves or their “signature scent.”

I have been fighting this battle for years. Actually. You wouldn’t think it would be that hard to, I dunno, think about the comfort of the other people around you.  We have one at home with Asthma and a couple others with Migraines that are triggered by overpowering scent. You know who cares? No one. I have begged, I have argued, I have tossed out every sticky bottle in my path. I have let all of them look at the needle I get to stab myself with when I get a headache. Nothing works.  Can’t we just stick with using soap? What is wrong with just taking a shower?

In other news, we have a suspended kiddo at home again.  The same suspended kiddo from a week ago. Ahh, happy holidays. We are approaching what I like to call, Serial Suspended. I requested an IEP meeting to address it. If you added up all the days Little Pumpkin has actually attended school all day, it doesn’t even span a week. Something has to give here. I am more motivated to graduate than she is. Her take on it, “Why do you have to make my life so much harder?” You’re welcome, kid.

In more excitement, we have been blessed with a new resident at our asylum. I am calling her Ringo Starr. If you know, you know. She is currently convinced that she is my favorite child in the house.  Ringo is one of the few not smoking pot in my house, so she probably isn’t wrong.  That said, the bar is also low.