Sewer on the floor

On my floor. I admit, that might be a tad dramatic here. It's more like a toilet overflow. Yesterday I woke up to cat poo by the front door since J let them out of basement, and forgot to leave the door open so they could get to their box. I might include that he didn't let them out to be nice to them. He was digging around for dirty or clean clothes to wear from the laundry room as he does every morning. Before you say, oh dear, she makes those poor kids wear dirty clothes? First off, he's technically old enough to do his own laundry, that aside, I can't wash clothes that don't make it to the laundry room, now can I?

So this morning, before I even had my morning cup of Chai, before it was even 8am, I am greeted with a clogged toilet. Somehow, I'm not convinced that what remains in the toilet bowl doesn't belong to an elephant. TMI, I know. This wasn't going to go over well. J used the bathroom and apparently thought paper towels were a good alternative to TP. He also apparently didn't think making sure it went down was necessary. Oh joy.

In comes S. She uses it without even paying attention. Which meant she was probably either very sleep or in a hurry before she went, as she is usually almost obsessive about flushing twice before even sitting down.

She goes to eat breakfast. S has reflux and experiences tummy discomfort when eating. She often mistakes the feeling for needing to go to the bathroom. She's been known to go to the bathroom like 3 times during a meal. Most recently she was in there so long her bread got crusty! We've been to all the doctors, and it seems for now, this is just how she is. She's also known for waiting until complete urgency before trying to go. I thought by age 12 kids stopped doing this, but I guess not.

So even though I said not to bother the toilet (who wants to tackle the icky job before they've even woken up completely) I hear this flushing sound. Not once, not twice, but three times right in a row. Oh yeah. The fun begins.

I say, "What are you doing!? I thought I said leave it alone?" S replies, "I know but I have to go reeeeaaally bad. I can feel..." She began to share information that even I didn't want to hear, so I will spare my friends and readers. I began to calmly explain that you can't flush it over and over and think that fixes it. By this point, the clog is obviously worse. I tell her it has to sit for a minute and now I'm going to have to get the plunger and she better hope I don't get nasty sewer water all over my floor and shoes.

I go into the living room for a minute. She starts the crying and whining, telling me again, in detail how bad she has to go. *Sigh* Then she says, "You want me to go in my pants!" Gasp. Yep, she said it. I think I did the eyes-wide opened, forehead scrunched, hand on the hip, "what did you say to me?"

"Yeah, that's it. You caught me. I concocted a sinister plan and conspired with J , to clog the toilet, because I wanted my 12 y.o daughter to go in her pants when she should be leaving for school! Uh uh, that's it. I'm busted. How did you ever guess?" Sarcasm isn't nice. This I know. I'm guilty.

I told her to get out of my way and not say another word. I've already been fed up with her passive-aggressive sassy mouth for months (maybe years). After telling her what a stupid, nasty, paranoid thing that is to say to your mother, I start plunging, against my best judgment. After all, I certainly don't want her to be in discomfort. Apparently she must be pretty desperate to say such a dumb a** thing as that. Oh no, now I'm saying the A word. Ugh.

I hold my breath and close my eyes as I listen to the sound of toilet water splashing onto the floor. Great, just great. Cat poop one morning, kid poop the next. Is this a pattern developing? Heck, I thought kids being out of diapers meant I didn't have to deal with someone else's bowel movements anymore.

I look at her trying my best not to mutter, "I hope you're happy." That would just be immature and spiteful. She is only 12 afterall, with no commonsense at all, and a mom doesn't like to see their kids in distress over having to go to the bathroom. What's the saying, when you gotta go, you gotta go? Hmm. Or was it her plan all along? Was it really she that concocted a sinister plan, in conspiracy with J, to make me have to clean up poopy-peepy water from the floor. I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Of course I don't really believe such gibberish.

I hand her my last roll of paper towels and tell her to start mopping it up. I go to get an old towel that can be used and pitched in the trash. I then suggest she risk using the upstairs bathroom. That's when she informs me she doesn't have to go afterall!! Good morning to me.

Oh, and about that other bathroom. Some of you might have been thinking, surely she has another bathroom with four kids? Fortunately I do. Unfortunately right now, it's inoperable. It has a running problem. For a good mental picture for how often this toilet is running, think Forest Gump. It has been 'fixed' a few times. It's driving me nuts. A very short drive these days. I woke up the other day thinking, is that the heater? No, the curtains aren't moving. Did the kids leave the faucet running for Ash again? No, he's in the basement. Is someone actually washing dishes? Yeah, like that's going to happening. I go to investigate. Sigh. It's the toilet. I tinker with it, and get it to stop. For the night at least. We're waiting on the maintenance man again.

Even though S was pretty desperate, she wasn't about to use that toilet. (She's also a frequent toilet clogger due to her belief that you should use half a roll of TP). Last time it was running, and got clogged, (thanks to Lil' J flushing some unknown object) about 50,000 gallons of rusty colored toilet water came gushing out of the ceiling fan light bulbs in the dining room. All over my beautiful dining room table. (Which is creatively decorated with children's carvings & scribbles). R's laptop was actually laying on the table, lid open at the time. I frantically had to unplug it, risking electrocution, letting the water drip out, then set it on a bed of towels. All the while praying for a miracle that it wasn't ruined. Egads, I had pictures in it!

Nasty smelling toilet water was literally raining on our heads, gushing out so fast that it poured out from the dining room floor to the basement. Every towel I have was soaked, every bowl I had was out, and the kids were running back and forth to the downstairs toilet to dump them. Oh was it ever nasty. Toilet water in my bowls. On my table. On my floor. In the laptop. It was total mayhem. I'm trying to suck water off the floor with my steam cleaner, praying that we don't have some sort of electrical situation as water is gushing out from the light bulbs. The maintenance man, who just so happens to be the father of J's best friend, comes running in after my hysterical call. Talk about embarrassing. He turns the water off, and the breaker for the light. The chair pads were totally destroyed, and to this day they still haven't been replaced. Grrr. The carpet was tinted orange, and stunk to high heaven for weeks. Even after many steam cleanings. So, yeah, she wasn't going to risk using that toilet. You can say we have plumping issues in this townhouse. When the shower curtain wasn't closed all the way one time, water was leaking out from the dining room ceiling, and again out of the light bulbs. The maintenance's man's excuse was, 'well worn water paths." Heh. Great explanation. Makes me feel a lot better for sure.

Now you see why I haven't been blogging lately? Such a glamorous life I lead these days.

Now I get to decide how to mop up the mess. Do I use the basement mop that I use to clean up the cat pee? Mmm, an after smell of cat urine. Or do I use my brand new mop, so when I mop the kitchen floor there's an after smell of kid pee? Choices, choices.