I admit it. I love the smell of breast milk. And spit up on my shoulder. I'm not planning to wear either of them (yet, perhaps I will) out to dinner to celebrate our anniversary, but I love the smell.
It gets sweeter with each new life that comes into our family. Because I have more memories. That smell reminds me of each warm, little head that I held in my hands, each small body that curled into mine, each child that gradually worked his or her way into my heart...the way that a shoe string is drawn tighter little by little until it is finally so tight that it is tied together.
And that is what has been happening around our house lately.
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