The Cheese Touch

I fancy myself a pretty good multi-tasker and a person who pays attention to details. I'm thorough, I like to think.  When last school year ended, I responsibly took stock of supplies.  I assessed the uniforms for signs of irreparable damage and purged.  I emptied backpacks and cleaned them.  I put lunchboxes back to their summer home atop the refrigerator.  I went through all those papers, saving only what I thought the curators would really want in the boys' Presidential Libraries in the future.  I am that mom.

And then summer came into full swing and we did the summer juggle of work and kids, kids and work.  About two weeks into our summer, I noticed a smell in the kitchen.

"Do you smell that?" I asked Coach.

"I don't smell anything," he replied.

"Do you smell that?" I asked my father in law, Jimmy, who was working on his morning Sudoku.

"I really haven't been able to smell for the last 20 years.  But let me know if you think we need to evacuate," he said.

So, I began my quest to find the smell.

First, I blamed it on one of the dogs.  Honestly, they do smell but it wasn't that kind of smell.
Then, I figured it was the trash can so I removed the bag and scrubbed down the can.
It worked for a day and then the smell was back.

Then, I blamed it on one of the appliances so I did an inventory of the refrigerator and freezer, purged the old take out and scrubbed it down.  It helped for a bit but then the mystery smell returned.

So, I tackled the dishwasher, the microwave and even, the oven.  I cleaned the counter tops, scrubbed the floor, cleared the pantry.  I checked the cabinets, checked the plumbing lines, I was exhausted.

Summer was coming to a close and still the stink remained.  Am I losing my mind?  Not a single other man, from any generation, seemed concerned about this smell that only I could smell.

And then I was distracted in my quest because school has begun.  Oldest son reached up to the top of refrigerator to grab the lunchboxes.

"Here you go, mom?"  he said, "What's that smell?"

"You smell it?!  Do you really?  Oh, thank you, thank you!  I thought I was losing my mind!  Finally, someone else smells it.  I have NO idea where it's coming from!"  I said as I started making lunches.

...and then I opened oldest son's lunch box...and to my horror, I discovered this...

I screamed.  My son shrieked.  The other boys ran to the kitchen to see.

"What is that?" they yelled.

"That was your croissant cheese sandwich from June 10th," I replied, disgusted with the scene and myself.

And the room erupted in hoots and hollers.  It was the greatest thing they had ever seen.
It stunk and it looked gross.
I was Mother of the Year.

The smell is now gone but the tale will live on.