We’re All In This Together

You know those people that annoy you by always telling their own story when you’re telling one? Today I am one of those people.

When Hunter was a baby, Rob and I were living in a two bedroom apartment that was part of a fourplex. We were starving students and I was going to WIC to get peanut butter, breakfast cereal, and baby formula. We went to the local utilities office to get a subsidy for our utility bills and had to take a class about how to lower your electric bill. One thing they suggested was draining the water heater. Sediment builds up inside the tank making the water heater work harder because it cannot hold as much. We thought it sounded straightforward enough and hooked up a hose to the water heater, which was in a closet in the living room/kitchen of the apartment. We let it drain all day long and saw the sandy colored sediment all over the parking lot proving that it was actually working. We felt like grown ups doing this and congratulated ourselves for the money we would save.

At about midnight we were ready to go to bed, and Rob said he would disconnect the hose from the water heater so we could close the front door and lock it. He turned the water valve off and unhooked the hose. Water started spraying everywhere! He was instantly soaked from head to toe and yelling to me, “Go get Damon!” Damon and Becky lived above us and I hated to go wake them up, but ran up the stairs and started pounding on their door. I scared them to death as I tried to communicate the problem but all I could think to say was, “Our water heater just exploded! Will you help Rob?” Later they told me that they thought there would be pieces of the water heater lodged in Rob’s head by my reaction. But Damon tried to turn the water off as Rob tried to get the hose back on so the water would at least be directed out of our living room. The water knob wouldn’t budge so I had to go wake up the on site maintenance guy and he got out his big plumber’s wrench and with one hand turned the water off. Luckily we didn’t flood the apartment too bad and it cleaned up with towels and few days of fans blowing on the carpet. (Thanks Kirsten for sparking this memory with your water heater story.)—–

I pulled into the car wash last month to get a shampoo of my mini van’s carpet and seats. We’ve had this van for about seven years and I’ve vacuumed many times, but never washed the carpet. The Hispanic man working there slides open the door and says pleasantly, “What can I do for you today?” Before I have a chance to answer he looks into my car and says, “Oh you need everything!” I laughed, and he must have felt some pity for my situation because he offered me a free upgrade on an exterior wash. It took almost two hours for the crew to scrub the insides of my family’s home away from home. It took a few days for everything to dry out completely and I was starting to worry that I was going to have to drive around in a van that smelled like wet dogs forever. Luckily the smell faded as things dried out and now it just smells like dirty kids again. (Thanks Korby for jogging my memory of this with your post about how to “Mom Your Ride.”)

After dinner every night we do Helper Jobs at our house. One person is in charge of cleaning up the dining area, and the other is in charge of the family room. Hannah and Sabrina usually help out by putting toys or shoes away. One particular night in our last house, Emma was supposed to be working on clearing the table. She said, “I have to go to the bathroom!” At the time, this was an excuse we heard a lot when the kids wanted to avoid chores or some other task. I usually would allow the break by saying, “Go! And hurry back!” followed by a continuous string of calling out, “it’s time to come finish!” until they returned. On this night Rob was feeling tired of the game and said she couldn’t go until she had finished her job. Emma continued with, “but I really have to go Dad!” To which he called her bluff with, “I guess you’ll just have to wet your pants then.” I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm and made some comment about kids not getting sarcasm. Well, it wasn’t a bluff this time, because she proceeded to stand there next to the table and wet her pants (Thank goodness we had wood floors!). I turned to Rob and said, “You’re cleaning that up.” And in a way I was happy that Emma had proved me right. (Thanks Audra for reminding me of this incident with your post about kids taking things literally.)