Plumbers, Plungers, and Bodily Functions

I wasn't going to post twice in one day, but I need to get out all crazy things that have happened today. I will promise you that everything you read here (and in every other post of mine) really happened. My children make life crazy enough that I have no need for embellishment. I said I would not use my children's real names, so I've given them each a pseudonym. I thought that might be more interesting than "my older daughter" and "the baby." So henceforth, my three year-old will be "Ellen" and my 16 month-old will be "Sarah."

My day today actually kind of started last week sometime, with a slow toilet. Ellen is basically potty-trained, and has become more independent, so my husband and I have been letting her go to the bathroom, wipe herself, and wash her hands by herself. We monitor by listening. She's very good at following directions (for the most part; she is still a three year-old), and we've not had any problems. Until recently. I've gone into the bathroom to find her sitting on the toilet painting her toenails, wearing her little potty seat on her head, and washing her hair with an entire travel-sized container of shampoo. The toilet suddenly wasn't flushing properly. Ellen is known for over-use of flushable wipes, so my immediate assumption was that there must be a wad of wipes stuck somewhere. After plunging frantically to keep the toilet from overflowing, I went to get some Rid-X. If you're not familiar with Rid-X, it is a substance made of (helpful) bacteria and some other things that basically eats anything organic that might be clogging a pipe (toilet paper, wipes, poop, that goldfish that lived an unnaturally long life and was really just a little too big to be flushed when he finally went to that big aquarium in the sky). It's primarily designed for people with septic tanks, but it works for us "city folk" as well. I put an entire box of Rid-X down the toilet, which was a two-month supply. It worked slightly better for maybe half a day, then started getting scarily close to overflowing whenever you flushed. So I snaked it--many, many times. I even went to look for a longer snake when that didn't work (BTW--the plumber who came today said it's not so much a longer snake that works best in toilets, but a wider one). I couldn't find a longer snake, so I found this cool tool that uses a small cartridge of CO2 to push a blast of air into the pipe. Nothing worked. My husband and I discussed taking the toilet off ourselves to fix it, but it just never happened. In the mean time, we were down to just the toilet in our master bathroom. This was not a problem except when someone was in there and someone else really had to go. Last night, for instance, after I had tucked Ellen in, I realized I had to go. There was no more holding it. I couldn't remember the last time I had gone, but it was now 8:30 at night, and it was not going to wait any longer. Since my husband was on the working toilet, my options were to either go in the non-functioning toilet and risk the toilet overflowing, going outside, or taking care of my business in the training potty. The first two options weren't really options, so I locked the door to be sure my daughter wouldn't walk in on me, squatted, and did the deed with Dora, Boots, and Map grinning at me. When I was sixteen, I went on a mission trip to Thailand, where the toilets are "squatties." They are basically large square toilet seats set into the ground (or maybe slightly above) with a spot on each side for each of your feet. You get yourself into position, and...squat. It was terrifying at first, but I learned three important things regarding using a squatty: (1) Aim is essential. I'm sure it's much easier for men than for women; we just don't have the proper equipment (2)Balance is essential. I encountered a strange squatty on a train that was taller than most toilets here in the States. I was okay until the train started moving, and I almost exited to the tracks below with what I had just done. (3) Controlling the flow is essential. If you can keep it a little slower, you're less likely to get it all over your feet. And ankles. And in your socks and shoes.
Back to topic (sorry)...
Yesterday afternoon, I scheduled a plumber to come between 8 and 10 this morning. He came around 8:30, and asked what the problem was. I explained what was going on with the toilet, and what we had tried in an attempt to fix it. I also explained that the toilet paper holder had mysteriously disappeared when we started having problems. He said he could get it out, but would have to dismantle the toilet, and "it will be costly." And he did. And it was, but no more squatting with cartoons for me!!

After the plumber left, I went to change my shirt (which had some of Sarah's breakfast on it) and use the restroom. As I was coming out, I heard Ellen playing in the living room. It sounded like she was throwing blocks into a plastic bucket. Then I saw her. About the time my brain registered what I was seeing, she asked, "Can we put blocks in plumbers?" She had the plastic plunger, which had been down in the toilet more times than I can count. The blocks were being tossed inside, then dumped on the floor and tossed back in. I grabbed it, and went to dump the blocks in the bathtub where they were to await a nice, soothing bleach-water soak. At that exact moment, Sarah was walking out of the bathroom, squeezing her toothpaste onto the toilet brush (how did she get the toothpaste, and when did she figure out how to get the lid off???). I can only hope she didn't actually brush her teeth with it. Evidently, I did not close the bathroom door after the plumber left.

The rest of the morning was uneventful. We went to the store for a few items, came home for lunch, and then it was time for the girls' naps. Normally the girls have water survival/"swimming" lessons after their naps, but it was storming today so they were cancelled. This gave me the opportunity to finally vacuum the living room! I turned on a movie to keep the girls distracted long enough to finish getting the toys, books, etc. off the floor, then put them in the play room (formerly Sarah's room) to occupy themselves while I went to get the vacuum cleaner. My mom had borrowed it, and I got it back from her on Monday, but it was still in the van due to rain and general laziness on my part. It took me maybe 40 seconds to walk to the driveway, get the vacuum cleaner out, and come back in the house. When I did come back in, Ellen was screaming, "Sarah pooped!" She is usually quite concerned with letting me know immediately when this has happened, so I thought it was just a normal, run-of-the-mill poopy diaper. If only such dreams were to be reality!! What you will read next is the grossest thing I have ever experienced in my life (and I have experienced some NASTY things). I watched in slow motion as Sarah leaned over and put her fingers on the floor. As she was putting them into her mouth, I realized that that spot she was touching on the floor was a fresh, puddly blob of... yes. It really was. Poop. I screamed and grabbed her, pulling her hand out of her mouth. As I laid her on the changing table, I saw that not only did both hands have poop on them, she had it smeared around her mouth. I had a horrible feeling that what I witnessed was NOT the first taste. As I write that sentence I want to cry, laugh, and vomit all at the same time. I began frantically wiping out her mouth (yes, with baby wipes--I was crazed at the moment), wiping off her face, and wiping off her hands. Once she was cleaned up, I banished the girls from the room while I began the fun task of cleaning poop out of the carpet. As I was cleaning up, I saw that it had splattered an insane distance. I'm not sure what she was doing, or how it ended up falling out of her diaper, but it was all over the place! Those darn blocks had once again fallen victim, and joined the others in the bathtub. When I went to the garage to get the carpet cleaner, Ellen went into the bathroom and closed the door. I thought she was going to go sit on the toilet and do whatever she needed to do. When I came back inside, she was running out of the bathroom, telling me that she had to go pee-pee. I asked her what she had just been doing in the bathroom, to which she replied, "I already went." Confused, I walked into the bathroom to discover she had peed from one end of the bathroom to the other. Truly, literally, a little yellow river running through the bathroom. She was already in her two-piece bathing suit when we found out swimming lessons were cancelled, and she insisted on wearing keeping it on. She has trouble getting the bottom part down, even when it's dry. She went into the bathroom, but was unable to get the bottom off in time. So, I set aside the carpet cleaner and grabbed the mop.

Not long after, my husband came home. I found a new sauce at the store, and used it to baste the pork chops I broiled for dinner. The sauce was a little spicy, so I cooked another pork chop which was coated in cooking spray and then dipped in Rice Krispies (sounds really strange, I know, but we ate it a lot growing up, and it's actually really good) for the girls. My husband also really likes the Rice Krispies pork chops. Knowing all that had happened today, he walked into the kitchen, looked at all of the pork chops, and said,"I don't get Rice Krispies on my pork chop?" I turned around, reached past him, grabbed the box of Rice Krispies, and dumped them onto one of the pork chops. I'm so thankful he has a good sense of humor.

My precious girls are asleep now, and I will soon be as well. I have to get to bed early to prepare for whatever they have in store for me tomorrow.