Friday, July 31, 2009

When it rains... the basement, then you've got problems. On a practical note, I like the space saving design of a home with a basement because you get more space without having a house that just goes on and on across your property and give you no yard. But with kids, I hate stairs. I have nightmares about my youngest coming to find me in the middle of the night and falling down the stairs in her sleepy stupor. And I'm just superstitious enough to grumble about the fact that we have exactly 13 steps in our staircase.

So, yesterday, I'm enjoying a moment of silence with my girls while we watch a silly teen movie and all of the sudden Bryan comes charging up the stairs shouting, "What's going on! What's going on!" Jeffrey had just explained how he set fire to his lunch--briefly--while cooking it so I thought Bryan's excitement had something to do with that. But he charged right through the kitchen and went down the hall to the bathroom.

Naturally, I leap up to see what's going on. I'm standing in water before I register the fact that water is literally surging from underneath the bathroom door. We scramble for towels, wake up the sleeping day care babies, and hurry to get the water mopped up before more of it seeps through the floor and into the basement. I grabbed a couple of towels and took my oldest son downstairs to see what we could do there.

And it was literally raining in the basement. Water falling in heavy drops from the ceiling and pattering on the accumulated moisture on the carpet. It would have sounded nice if it had been outside. But in the basement it just sounded like money going down the drain.

We're still drying it out. Really, the entire upstairs bathroom floor needs to be ripped out, reinforced and replaced. But that's not going to be possible any time soon.

The reason for all this excitement in the middle of the day? One of my children, who is still nameless though I have my suspicions, stopped up the upstairs toilet with about a half a roll of TP and then flooded it trying to flush. The entire family is familiar with our 'quirky' upstairs toilet and usually if something goes wrong they tell us. But no, not this time.

Have I mentioned I love my children?

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