Sunday morning started earlier than normal because my children missed the memo about the time change. Instead of getting up at 7am, we were up and out of bed by 6am. Unfortunately, this did not help me accomplish anything more than normal, and really, by about 10am I was already feeling defeated by the day. My husband was stuck working and I was stuck trying to clean and entertain the kids. The baby, who now has the same funky respiratory infection the boys had last week, was particularly cranky.
After feeding the kids lunch, and trying to grill in a wind storm, I finally gave up and brought my steaks inside. I decided broiling was the quickest option since I had not had breakfast and was now ready to pass out. In order to enjoy my meal I decided to put the baby down for her nap, but she wasn’t going peacefully. I gentle rocked and hummed her to sleep when the smoke detector began to wail (and so did she). My bacon wrapped fillet was nearly starting a grease fire as it cooked and grease splattered everywhere. By the time I got the smoke to clear, the baby settled, and I was finally ready to eat, I was also ready to cry. After a typical quick lunch characterized by eating over my sink, I retreated to the basement to fold some laundry.
I listen to the poor baby snoring away over the monitor, but smiled as I watched Jake build castles on the floor in front of me with blocks. Joey was also being good, watching a movie quietly up stairs. Perhaps my afternoon would make up for the hectic and tiring morning. As I continued to fold the clothes, I wasn’t even aware how the dripping sound was nearly lulling me to sleep. Drip, drop, drip, drop. I thought how tired I was, and how with the latest “bug” the kids had not had slept through the night in well over a week and half. Drip, drop, drip, drop….I began to yawned loud and long, but abruptly forced myself to stop. The weather forecast called for high winds today but no rain. What was that noise then that I heard?
I immediately ran into the laundry room, but saw no evidence of water. As I circled back around, I saw a shadow of sorts on the ceiling. I flicked on the light at the bottom of the stairs, walked closer to examine the puddle forming on the ceiling, and my tired brain worked hard to think of what was right above this spot upstairs. A large drop of water formed and fell suddenly hitting my forehead and ran down right into my eye. It was in that moment that my synapses began firing again and a virtual map of my home was displayed in my mind. I felt my eye began to twitch and for a fleeting moment I almost lost it….it’s the powder room that sits above the spot with the dripping water. For a split second, I hoped perhaps Joey had left the sink running, but as I ascended the stairs and the invisible ecoli germs multiplied in my eyeball, I knew it was the toilet. I didn’t have the kind of luck for a sink flood. My luck calls for a shitty, messy toilet flood…and as the bathroom door slowly creaked open and the mess was uncovered, that was exactly what I found.
My eye twitched again, uncontrollably and I turned and walked into the family room where Joey was. My oldest child, who is five years old, rarely requires assistance in the bathroom. Evidently, although he found himself in a messy situation, he thought he’s just keep wiping…and wiping….and wiping. In fact, my independent son found himself wiping through a whole roll of toilet paper. Unfortunately, the 482 plies of paper and poo did not flush as Joey had hoped. Instead it “came up and up and up” until it finally “bubbled out of the toilet and ran all over the floor.” As my son sat, feet up in the air, casually drinking a juice box and recanting his close call, he assured me I need not worry, for his feet didn’t get wet. Thankfully, I have a spry child who jumped up on the step stool and reached for the door and jumped “all the way over the puddle.” The eye twitched again on its own, and my face must have spoken volumes; although I actually just stood their silently. Joey sat up, put his juice box down, and asked “should I go to my room?”
As I reached my arm into the toilet, far past the rubber glove’s coverage, I died a little inside. Toilet paper and turds swirled around my arm, and finally, after some reaching, grabbing and gagging, a huge wad of toilet paper was pulled free and a huge swirl of water rushed down the now open drain. After switching gloves, scrubbing the toilet and floor with bleach water, soaking the poo water from the rug (up and downstairs), cleaning the rug,with soap and getting fans to dry the flooded area, I am now sitting recanting this tale to you with a tall glass of wine. I clocked out for the day, and have made the executive decision to order out dinner, cancel the remaining cleaning, and just recenter myself before Monday comes calling. Otherwise, I might just quit!
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