Mother's column - lessons that mothers learn from upbringing children

03-12-2022

Christian Life

Bedtime for Reinout. Before going upstairs, I give him a clean diaper. That may sound like a routine job, but it can be quite challenging to change a nappy. While holding Reinout in a vice grip, I shout: "Jan! I need the nappy wipes. And can you bring the pot of Sudocrem as well? And Reinout, please stay down for a while!"

A few minutes later, the battle is over again. Now just one more sip of breastfeeding and he will soon fall asleep. Finally, he lies quietly on my lap. Even when I put music on my phone, he keeps drinking and doesn't turn his head towards the screen - he must be really exhausted. I enjoy the serenity of the moment and silently meditate on the lyrics of the song.

Maybe that's why I notice it a little late. Where does this weird smell of lavender suddenly come from? Oh wait, in his right hand Reinout has a little grey lid. His left hand is hidden behind my back, in the corner of the sofa - oh no! that is where I left the jar of Sudocrem.

Neline is married and the mother of five: Martha (9), Abel (7), Jolijn (5), Reinout (3) and Sifra (1).

I quickly pull Reinout upright and find his right hand completely covered in blobs of ointment. The stuff is also on his sleeve, on the sofa, on my clothes, and yes, there it is, there is a blob on the carpet. Meanwhile, Reinout studies his little white hand intently, making kneading motions. How interesting! It makes such a funny soapy sound. It looks so lovely and shiny. It smells so special.

"Jan! Do you have some kitchen towels for me?" "Yes, right now!" A moment later, Reinout's hand is pink again. It is only a bit greasy still. I can't quite get rid of the stains on the sofa, and that sweet lavender smell will probably stay in the air for a while. Let's google Sudocrem cleaning tips, I think by myself.

A world opens up before me — a white world of stained couches, children, dolls, stuffed animals, carpets and cribs. Oh well, our situation is not so bad after all.

I also read some background information en passant. That an Irish pharmacist marketed the cream in the 1930s. That the logo and the dull grey packaging have hardly changed in all these years. That it also may cure acne. See, that's how you learn. Still, one question remains: why, after eighty years, do these jars still not have a tight-fitting lid?