There’s an old saying,
”
never cry over spilt milk.
”
Well, I’m here today to tell you that a mom did not write that
saying. Because, as any experienced mom knows, spilt milk is
definitely a reason for tears.
There’s an old saying, “never cry over spilt milk.” Well, I’m here today to tell you that a mom did not write that saying. Because, as any experienced mom knows, spilt milk is definitely a reason for tears.
It starts when your child is young. You’re out running errands with a baby in the back seat. And that baby is holding a bottle. And at the end of a very long trip, you get the baby out of the car, and somehow you overlook the fact that the bottle the baby was holding during the entire trip is no longer there.
And after a few days of hundred-degree heat, you notice a smell in your car. It’s a smell that out stinks any diaper you’ve ever hanged. And at the same time, you hear a rattling sound that seems to be emanating from under your seat. You know – the exact same place where the smell is coming from.
And that’s when you reach down and find that the bottle your baby was holding has now turned into a hazardous waste container.
And even after your baby becomes a toddler and gives up the bottle, milk spills happen. One day you’re out and about, and the next day you realize that leak-proof sippy cup isn’t so leak-proof after all.
The problem here is that once the milk escapes its container, it soaks deep into the seat cushions. So deep in fact, you need a Hazmat team to come out and extricate the spill from your car.
Eventually, though, your child grows out of the spilled-milk phase. There are no more bottles, no more sippy cups. And your child will even master the fine art of pouring milk from the container to the glass so well that he can do without spilling one tiny, little drop of milk.
And you get to the point that you no longer sniff suspiciously each time you enter a vehicle. You don’t even worry when your nine-year old takes milk into the playroom. After all, he’s old enough to handle a cup of milk. He isn’t a baby any longer.
And if you think that, you are just a stupid as I am.
You see, I got comfortable. I believed that Junior was a non-spiller. And that’s why I have spent the last two weeks trying to get the rancid smell of sour milk out of the playroom carpet.
And nothing I am trying is working.
Now I think this is because the spill has had a few days head start on me. You see, I wasn’t actually told about the spill. It seems that Junior knocked over his glass of milk and it floated under the TV armoire. So Junior figured if he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t there.
Unfortunately for him, the next day you could see a big yellow stain. And you could smell it. As a matter of fact, you could smell it all the way down the hallway. So I switched into high gear.
First, I broke out the big guns – the giant carpet cleaner. I sprayed the stain with soap. I saturated it with water. And then I sucked the whole mess up. And I felt positive that the stain and the smell were completely gone.
Until that afternoon when I smelled the smell again.
So I scrubbed it again. And again. And the next day, I scrubbed it one more time. I even went to the pet store and bought a bottle of stuff that has enzymes that eat away odors. Turns out, nothing can eat away the smell of rancid milk.
So I gave up. I bought deodorizers. And Harry was allergic to them. So I scrubbed again. And I sprayed enzymes again. And after a week of scrubbing and spraying, I walked into the room and smelled nothing. Well, there was a bit of dirty-feet smell, but I think that was Junior.
So we went away for the weekend, confident that I had conquered the sour milk. And when we returned on Sunday, we were greeted by sour-milk stink. It seems the smell had taken a break, but come back with a vengeance and permeated the entire house.
So I did what any mother would do. I cut out that piece of the carpet, placed the armoire over it and I vowed that the next time, I would call a Hazmat team in right away. After all, there’s no use crying over spilt milk, is there?
