Water Works: Home Edition

We each have those messy moments as parents that literally take your breath away. Lately I’ve been reminiscing over the “highlights” of those in my mothering journey thus far. Funny that most of those involve copious amount of water. Perhaps you need a laugh today and could laugh with me.

S is now 5 years old, and her water messes have toned down quite a bit the last year or so-but about 1 year ago her worst one happened. (Perhaps my reaction to the WORST WATER MESS EVER made her think twice before splashing away, I don’t know.) We have continued on our “fixing up the house” journey, and the project then involved having the downstairs bathroom walls torn out and all the plumbing exposed. The recently finished upstairs bathroom is directly above it, and they share a “plumbing run”- a wall that is just chock full of pipes, including the sewer vent.  After a horrible wind and rain storm one day we had had a roof leak around the sewer vent pipe, and water had trickled all the way down to the ground floor. After replacing the sewer vent boot and drying out the plumbing run, we thought we were ok against future leaks. The wall stayed open to allow for us to work on the plumbing during our remodeling adventures. This story has to have this background info for you to understand what happened this one calm, lovely day. I was busy working on homemaker-ly things, when I heard what sounded like water dripping very slowly. Because of past water escapades, I have a very keen sense of hearing when it comes to water. So I tilted my head and tried to locate the sound. Several minutes later I walked by the downstairs bathroom again and heard the dripping, still slow… but a little faster. I went into the bathroom and was horrified to realize that there was a slow WATERFALL silently flowing down the last bit of remaining drywall, puddling on the floor, leaking under the wall and into the living room. The drip came from the ceiling, which was quite soaked and looked like it could begin losing a chunk of drywall at any moment. I made a very unladylike screech noise, and about high jumped up the stairs. Sitting on the sink was my adorable 4 year old, sopping wet and looking up from her imaginary world of fun waterworks with wide and frightened eyes. I could hardly speak-and probably a good thing, as my words at that moment were not very constructive or loving. Apparently the one thing on the bathroom floor that we had failed to complete, was caulking around the base of the toilet. The flood of water that was poured onto the floor was slowly finding it’s way under the toilet, across the downstairs ceiling, down the wall, and to it’s final puddling place on the living room/bathroom floor. I couldn’t have been more thankful at that moment that the downstairs bathroom wasn’t finished yet!

I’d go on with more water messes, but I think that’s enough reminiscing for one day. 😉

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