By The Wiz
For a few days now, I have been wracking my brain trying to figure out something to blog about. My life has been going along just fine, and, as everyone knows, that’s really boring stuff to read about. Nobody wants to read about my humdrum life, volunteering to help with the eye screening at school, trying to keep up on my laundry, and grabbing a few minutes at night to read the Book of Mormon each night. Nobody wants to know that it’s been weeks since I’ve had a Dr. Pepper, and I’ve been so proud of myself. I was just thinking - “Man, I need something to blog about.”
Be careful what you wish for.
This morning, my 2 yo found some markers (I still don’t know where) and re-started his love affair with drawing on the walls. While I want to encourage artistic tendencies, I don’t think that my walls are the correct medium at the moment. So I began to clean them off, with the help of my 4 yo who LOVES to spray walls. She won’t pick up a toy to save her life, but give her some spray and a cloth, and she goes crazy. So some of the marker wasn’t coming off, and I was getting overly frustrated. You know that feeling? Logically, you know that this is not the end of the world, that you’ll find some cleaner that will get it off, or if not, you still have some paint, and it won’t take long to cover that little spot. Emotionally, however, you feel like this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, and then you feel guilt for feeling like that, because, after all, you were not a victim of Hurricane Katrina.
Well, during this little cleaning escapade, my daughter decides she needs to go potty (previously - “Hey! My poop looks like a sailboat!). No problemo, she just runs in and goes. Well, my son decides to go flush the toilet again, because he likes to pretend he goes potty. Well, I didn’t think this would be a problem, but apparently that toilet has issues, because the bathroom beigns to flood.
I SCREAAAM. You know, that blood-curdling scream that tells your kids “you better get out of here or Mommy’s going to explode.” I don’t scream that much, so whenever I do, my kids really react. I run in and turn off the toilet, and grab towels out of the laundry basket hanging out upstairs. (so I haven’t really kept up on laundry this week, at least they were clean). Towels everywhere, but I got to it pretty quickly, and had the floor mopped up in no time (too bad it was just mopped on Monday). I still hear running water. I go downstairs, and yep, there it is, the water has flowed through the ceiling into the kitchen and is soaking my counter (which was nowhere near clean, so now junk mail and school papers are wet) my bar stools, and my hardwood floor. Grab a pot to hold the dripping water, find more towels, clean it up before the floor warps.
Try not to blame my son for flushing a faulty toilet. Try not to blame myself and my husband for not noticing the toilet was faulty. Try not to blame whoever built this house that it can’t even handle half a toilet bowl (what is that? like 4 gallons of water?) before flooding the downstairs. Pray that I got to it in time that it doesn’t warp the ceiling. (I have had flooding there before, which resulted in quite the hole in our ceiling, not to mention having to refinish the floors, but that’s a different story.) Try to focus on the positive ( I was right there when it happened, I was even wearing shoes, I got to it quickly, so far the ceiling doesn’t look warped).
Somehow, I can’t help but blame myself, for wishing I had something to blog about. Somehow the universe knew that’s what I wanted, and said - “OK, I’ll flood your kitchen and your bathroom for you, after your two year old’s been sick for two weeks and you can’t find your new insurance card so you’ve been putting off taking him to the doctor, and he’s been drawing on the walls. Will that do? Or did you need something else?”
So, as I sit here drinking my Dr. Pepper and staring at my kitchen ceiling and floor, hoping that the evil water was thwarted in time, I think I might just start blogging about boring stuff. Maybe then the universe will be kinder to me.
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