Are We There Yet?
If only candles smelled
like cleaning products
I can remember back when I thought that only special women enjoyed candles about the abode. I was sure that they were women with clean houses and cute hair that dressed smartly and had time to relish regular programming on HGTV.
I tried to join them now and then, but the children always brought my illuminating blazes to a halt.
In fact, every time I lit a candle in an attempt to create ambiance, I’d find the children moments later, singing Kum-Bay-Ya and roasting marshmallows. They were totally mesmerized as they gathered round and paid homage to the Lord of the Flame. They’d melt sipping straws, burn hair follicles or offer up their plastic Power Rangers as a sacrifice to the creator of the blaze.
The peace and tranquillity others enjoyed with tapers and votives had to be extinguished at my house faster than you can say spontaneous combustion.
Then one day the kids grew older. And thanks to the small seminars conducted down at the firehouse, and the reading of books such as “Bad Things Happened to Bobby After He Torched Mommy’s Hairbrush,” the kids finally seemed ready to let the candles be.
Feeling giddy with joy, I created a fire-proof area by tossing a few newspapers to the floor and prepared to create ambiance with the best of them.
There were so many candles to choose from that I wasn’t sure what path I should take. Should I wow my dwelling with the fresh aroma of chocolate cappucino? Dare I illuminate by inviting home-baked scents from Aunt Agnes’ Strawberry Rhubarb Pie? Or would I inspire and wow small audiences with a little aromatherapy?
Thinking I was clever, I opted for the yummy scents. I gave up the notion of ginger eucalyptus and went with scents that smelled good enough to eat. Then I waited for a moment alone before I lit a candle called Anna’s Banana Loaf Surprise.
It turns out the surprise was that there was no banana loaf. When the family came home, their eyes got big, their mouths started watering and they went weak in the knees as they begged for the goods.
“Mom,” asked one child as he opened the oven door, “what is that wonderful smell? Is it really banana bread?”
“No,” interrupted another, “it must be cake. Where is it?”
“Oh boy!” exclaimed my husband of many years as he gave me a look of love that I’d not seen on his face since high cholesterol put him on a diet last October. Suddenly a hush came over the entire family, and I could tell by the looks on their faces that they thought that I’d been baking and was holding a loaf of banana bread hostage.
It turned into a moment that shall forever be remembered as The Big Let Down of 2006.
Therefore, I have a new idea for the candle companies, and I believe that it’s a clever one that is sure to “WOW” the industry.
I say, let’s put the aromas back where they belong. Why make the kitchen smell like a lemon chiffon pie when there’s no lemon chiffon? Why try to liven up the living room with the delightful smell of Grandma’s Sugar Cookies when the closest thing to a baked good is half of a stale Oreo in the back of the cookie drawer?
Why not make candles that smell like Pine-Sol and degreasers. A woman, such as myself, could then enjoy a day off. I could burn my cleaning candles at will as I leaf through decorating magazines. I could play with different hairstyles, enjoy a pedicure and place fresh cucumber slices on my eyes, as I settle in for a much-needed nap with the fresh scents of disinfectants and antibacterial sprays.
Then, as I hear my husband approaching the drive, I could quickly smear a little grease on the end of my nose, spritz my brows, and crawl under the kitchen sink so far that only my rear end hangs out.
I can easily imagine my husband as he calls out my name. I’ll slowly back out and sit down on the floor as I feign exhaustion.
“Whew!” I’ll tell him, “I’ve been deep cleaning all day. Not the dusting and organizing sort of cleaning that you’d notice or see evidence of, Honey. But the deep cleaning that men never understand for lack of desire and experience. I’ve cleaned the little wheels on the fridge, scrubbed under the cupboards and many hidden areas that you’d never notice.”
He’ll surely believe me, thanks to the Pine-Sol candles. Perhaps he’ll even offer to cook dinner as I soak my (what should be) chafed knees.
Best yet, I bet I’d never find the children roasting marshmallows and singing “Kum-baya” to a candle that smells like 409.
Is that clever or what?
Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book “Are We There Yet?” You can reach her at www.loriclinch.com.