No matter our intentions, one of our twins ends up in bed with us. By the end of the night, our son’s soaking wet, cloth diaper has quite the aroma…of pee…in our bed. Most people remember the baby smells as those sweet smells you get from sniffing their heads. Our son smells sweet too. It is just that part of my memory from this era will undoubtably be the smell of pee. It’s just like my memories of my year abroad in Argentina include the odors of fresh breads from the panadería, as well as the smell of diesel fuel. I suppose I should prefer one smell over the other, but the reality is, it is the full spectrum of smells that make up the olfactory story of a time and place.
How do we embrace the full spectrum of our experiences?