Just the other day I was thinking to myself, "I feel so lame. I haven't blogged in like 2 weeks. Nothing has happened to me that I deem bloggable." That was just silly thinking. I should have known that by saying those words that I had called down a shit storm of catastrophic events to unload on me...and when would this happen? During the play. Yes, during the busiest 3 days of the summer for us.
Everything was going along swimmingly until Thursday night when the spastic diarrhea hit. One minute James Henry was fine, the next second he was swimming in his own crap. With no warning. You can't even deem it a shart...(shit fart) because all of a sudden his eyes got wide and he said, "OH NO MAMA". At first I was angry because I thought that he was just holding it too long because he didn't want to quit playing. But after 5 times of instant shit pants, I realized it wasn't his fault.
That evening was spent mostly in the shower.....
Friday morning he seemed fine, but I kept him home from his swim lessons anyway in order to rest of for our opening night performance of Peter Pan. Not a lot happened Friday, I assumed that this literal shit storm I had called down upon myself had ended and all was right with the world. Things were going great. The play went great. The crowd LOVED James, I actually had someone tell me that they thought he had been given lessons to be that cute (and seriously he did turn it on, the crowd loved him....I guess I finally have a theatre kid!) We got home. Went to bed. Everyone slept.
Great! Curse over!
WRONG.
Wrong wrong wrong.
It was SO HOT, like Lydia Maxwell Nadal wedding hot, on Saturday that I didn't even want to go to the pool. SO, I told the kids that they could play out in the hose. I went out and turned it on, and turned them loose. I came inside and started folding the HUMONGOUS pile of laundry that had been taking over our bedroom. Wyatt comes running in and says, "There isn't any water coming out of the hose!" To which I said, "What? did you turn it off?" and he said, 'I turned it all kinds of ways." Immediate warning.
I walked as if through a slow motion fog to the outside faucet. And low and behold...it had been yanked almost clear out of the foundation (by the person who was turning it all kinds of ways...) This meant that there was more than likely a pipe burst in the basement.
I quickly ran downstairs and sure enough. Yep. FLOOD. Not just a trickle. But A LOT. It was like fire hose blast. I couldn't even get to the damn shut off valve. SO, I had to hop in the car (not speaking very nicely by the way) and rush out to the farm to grab Chris. Luckily Maisy had called him to warn him that her mother who was "not speaking very nicely" was on her way.
Chris met me at the driveway and we sped home. He got the water shut off and then the cleaning of the basement began. I had 4 baskets of laundry down there all sorted, all ready to be washed.....COMPLETELY WATER LOGGED. I wrung out some towels and quickly threw them in the washer (not me new washer...which Chris blew up...but another old one) I went upstairs. Cussing, Stomping, Mad...told the kids to go sit somewhere and not even think about moving, and took myself out to the trampoline where I tried to bounce off some rage....but then my bladder that has gone through 4 pregnancies said, "Uh oh" and I quickly had to go back inside to the children.
Chris didn't tell anyone that they couldn't use the downstairs bathroom. He forgot that the bathroom off the kitchen runs on that water line. SO THEN OF COURSE Wyatt took a huge crap.
Didn't tell anyone until later.
LIke much later.
LIKE THIS MORNING.
So, I spent the first 30 minutes of my day filling up the toilet with water so I could flush it.
The pipe should get fixed today so that we can use that bathroom and outside faucet again...but the washer is dead. It just couldn't wash those towels...they were too wet.
So, now I go back to not having a washer again (because the parts for my brand new one are still not in)
The next time I complain about not having something to blog about....will someone just shoot me?
Everything was going along swimmingly until Thursday night when the spastic diarrhea hit. One minute James Henry was fine, the next second he was swimming in his own crap. With no warning. You can't even deem it a shart...(shit fart) because all of a sudden his eyes got wide and he said, "OH NO MAMA". At first I was angry because I thought that he was just holding it too long because he didn't want to quit playing. But after 5 times of instant shit pants, I realized it wasn't his fault.
That evening was spent mostly in the shower.....
Friday morning he seemed fine, but I kept him home from his swim lessons anyway in order to rest of for our opening night performance of Peter Pan. Not a lot happened Friday, I assumed that this literal shit storm I had called down upon myself had ended and all was right with the world. Things were going great. The play went great. The crowd LOVED James, I actually had someone tell me that they thought he had been given lessons to be that cute (and seriously he did turn it on, the crowd loved him....I guess I finally have a theatre kid!) We got home. Went to bed. Everyone slept.
Great! Curse over!
WRONG.
Wrong wrong wrong.
It was SO HOT, like Lydia Maxwell Nadal wedding hot, on Saturday that I didn't even want to go to the pool. SO, I told the kids that they could play out in the hose. I went out and turned it on, and turned them loose. I came inside and started folding the HUMONGOUS pile of laundry that had been taking over our bedroom. Wyatt comes running in and says, "There isn't any water coming out of the hose!" To which I said, "What? did you turn it off?" and he said, 'I turned it all kinds of ways." Immediate warning.
I walked as if through a slow motion fog to the outside faucet. And low and behold...it had been yanked almost clear out of the foundation (by the person who was turning it all kinds of ways...) This meant that there was more than likely a pipe burst in the basement.
I quickly ran downstairs and sure enough. Yep. FLOOD. Not just a trickle. But A LOT. It was like fire hose blast. I couldn't even get to the damn shut off valve. SO, I had to hop in the car (not speaking very nicely by the way) and rush out to the farm to grab Chris. Luckily Maisy had called him to warn him that her mother who was "not speaking very nicely" was on her way.
Chris met me at the driveway and we sped home. He got the water shut off and then the cleaning of the basement began. I had 4 baskets of laundry down there all sorted, all ready to be washed.....COMPLETELY WATER LOGGED. I wrung out some towels and quickly threw them in the washer (not me new washer...which Chris blew up...but another old one) I went upstairs. Cussing, Stomping, Mad...told the kids to go sit somewhere and not even think about moving, and took myself out to the trampoline where I tried to bounce off some rage....but then my bladder that has gone through 4 pregnancies said, "Uh oh" and I quickly had to go back inside to the children.
Chris didn't tell anyone that they couldn't use the downstairs bathroom. He forgot that the bathroom off the kitchen runs on that water line. SO THEN OF COURSE Wyatt took a huge crap.
Didn't tell anyone until later.
LIke much later.
LIKE THIS MORNING.
So, I spent the first 30 minutes of my day filling up the toilet with water so I could flush it.
The pipe should get fixed today so that we can use that bathroom and outside faucet again...but the washer is dead. It just couldn't wash those towels...they were too wet.
So, now I go back to not having a washer again (because the parts for my brand new one are still not in)
The next time I complain about not having something to blog about....will someone just shoot me?
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