That's Me

That's Me

Friday, June 27, 2014

Feet in the Bedroom

When I was little, maybe 4, I walked into the kitchen where my Mom was cleaning the coffee pot. Gagging, I exclaimed over the horrible smell of feet. My Mom told me that was vinegar that I was smelling, not feet. 

Ever after that, whenever I smelled vinegar, I would gag and cry about the strong smell of feet. My Mom has always wondered who had feet that smelled that horribly that I would instantly think that is what I was smelling. 

That became one of my family's Kidisms--you know, words that kids say that the family adopts as a replacement of the real word--vinegar became feet. I can't remember a time that vinegar wasn't called feet at my parents' house. "Mom, I'm making pickles and ran out of feet. Do you have any I can come get?" "Eddi, just use feet to clean that." And so on. 

And now, a feet story. 

Last night I had to take care of warts on the bottom of one of the kids' feet. No big deal. Sweaty kids in summer will get 'em. Simple, nontoxic, chemical-free approach that works way better than anything else: apple cider vinegar. It's amazing at getting rid of the suckers and they don't grow back. Just pour the nasty apple cider vinegar (containing the mother; not cheap, worthless stuff) onto a cotton ball, place it over the wart, cover with a Band-Aid for 12 hours. Remove and let foot breath for 12 hours. Repeat process. Wart will turn colors and then suddenly the entire root and all will fall off. Continue the treatment for 2 more days after it falls off to heal the skin. Simple. 

So last night I performed my treatment on my child's foot. Said child proceeded to wrap her foot in about half a roll of sport prewrap and 12 inches of clear tape because 2 Band-Aids covering the cotton balls wasn't enough. There's magic in that bandage and tape, yo. The more the better. 

That's a whole lotta bandage and tape
for  2 spots that are near her toes. 

Then we decided that since she was stinking up my room with her vinegar feet, we would call hubby in and blame him for the smell. 

As the child laid in a way so he wouldn't see her bandaged foot and suspect anything, I called hubby in to help me with something in the bedroom. When he came in, I started showing him what I needed help with, then paused and sniffed the air. "Do you smell that?" 

Hubby made his bad smell face as he nodded and looked around the room. 

I sniffed towards him and then said, "Is that you? that your feet??"

As the child laid on our bed pretending that what she was laughing at was a video on her phone, hubby bent down to take off his socks. Looking slightly panicked,"It shouldn't be. My feet don't stink." He sniffed his socks. "No, it's not my feet." 

The child laughed harder and when hubby looked at her, she just pointed at her phone because she couldn't talk. Hubby sniffed around some more. "What is that? Who has feet that smell so bad?"

I said, "It didn't smell like that before you came in here. Why do you smell like feet??" I backed away from him. 

He looked about ready to gag and I couldn't hold it in anymore. I laughed. I told him everything. He did not laugh. 

Payback sucks, dear. In the end though I'd rather be called a Russian Oompa Loompa Mr. Bobinsky than have feet that smell like feet

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