Friday night....Knit Night at the Shabby Sheep Yarn Shoppe. I look forward to this night. An evening filled with laughter, hilarious stories of our children, of yarn projects gone astray (like Erin's Rasputin of a purple cowl!) and yummy food.
I was anticipating the moments when I could snag my yarn bag and skip from the house without a care or a kid. Oh, dear reader, it is never ever that simple in my land.
The children ate a hearty dinner (okay, chicken and rice, my creativity in the kitchen is at an all time low) and were headed to their showers. Sounds simple enough. The boys spent most of the day helping the crew install the metal posts for our new fence and hard work and the great outdoors had definitely scent marked them.
There was the usual giggling, thumping and loud random noises from the upstairs, so Steve decided he was going up.
It was then that the noise escalated and I heard the dreaded words, "Hunny, can you come up here, please."
Oh NO! He called me Hunny, and he said please. I considered my options, flee, suicide or face the music. Option number one graced through my brain, but curses....my yarn bag was upstairs.
Suicide wasn't truly an option, because I have far too many unfinished project (like my life!). So, with a trembling in my heart, I climbed the stairs.
At the landing, I heard Steve berating the boys on their toothpaste painting habit. Maybe that was it. After all, I had cleaned the bathrooms on Monday, could it really be that bad?
I climbed the second set of stairs. Caitlyn was standing in her doorway with wide eyes. Perhaps she shouldn't see the carnage, I sent her to her own shower.
I walked closer and Steve was addressing the boys in stern and serious tones. He saw me. Crap, nowhere to run.
"Have you seen this?" and he pointed to the tub.
(insert horror movie scream)
There was trash all over the floor (hate to admit it, but my boys have lousy aim, more on that some other time). There were towels on the floor. Well, it is a kid bathroom. With a trembling in my heart, I lifted my eyes to the tub.
Bright blue water, the same color as their shower gel. Cold water, with chunks of white ivory soap floating in it. Three shower poufs. A plastic shark. A lego guy (I think maybe young Obi wan). CARNAGE!!!
Steve asks, "Okay, who did this?"
"Not me."
"I don't know"
"I didn't"
Ah, my dreaded extra three invisible children.
Conner said in a small voice, "the water won't go down."
I drop to my knees in agony....not a backed up tub. Please no, no no.
In my world, backed up tubs are far worse than backed up toilets. A toilet you can plunge without getting wet (much) and can clear easily (it is also a good cardio work out). The last time there was a clogged tub, it involved one army figure and a band aid that was murderous to remove.
Steve proceeded to chastise the boys. They hopped to remove towels and trash, scrape toothpaste off the counters and I fished my hand into the tub.
The water was frigid and I felt my hand cramp right away. I turned the stopper to the left and lifted. The stopped turned to the proper open position, but the water remained. Cold and blue, it taunted me.
I couldn't see past the shower gel induced azure, but I was fairly certain a wild experiment involving the drain and floating soap had ensued. I suck my fingers into the icy blue and tried to spin the stopper to remove it from view, to allow my most treasured tool access.....the snake.
The stopper spun merrily and defied my efforts. My hands began to cramp more and my thoughts were: NO! Not on Knit Night! How can I crochet (I am a non knitter)? How can I feel the yarn in all it's textured glory. NOOOOOOOOoooooooooo.
Anger was the next emotion. It must have showed on my face. Steve quickly went to finish dishes (isn't he sweet and SMART), the boys went and had record fast showers in my bathroom and only left one towel behind. I stalked to the closet, Caitlyn popped her head into the hall, saw my face and quickly withdrew and shut her door.
I reached in my closet and pulled out my next best tool.....the wire hanger.
Yes, I still have wire hangers. In this enlightened age you may ask, why?
Because I can MacGyver it into anything. It has cleared out vacuums and hooked items from the roof. Now I was going to employ it to go where my snake was unable to fit.
The children left, the dogs voluntarily went to their crates.
It was me and the cold blue tub.
I closed my eyes and sent a prayer to the plumbing saints (I am not Catholic, but there have to be plumbing saints.) and reached my hands into the icy blue.
I threaded the end of the wire hanger into the small gap left under the tiny space of the open stopper. The wire met resistance. I pushed and there was the slightest sense of give. I was right. Soap. I turned on hot water and as it trickled, fresh foam appeared. I pressed harder with the wire and knew I could move it no further.
I was on my knees, up to my elbows in frigid water. The tub mocked me with it's still waters. I poked futilely on the blockage.
But come on....not on a KNIT NIGHT!
I couldn't feel my fingers, my knees were aching. Motherhood isn't for sissies.
I decided to surrender....for the short term. I gathered my strength and rammed the wire into the softest part of the blockage and left it there.
Mother of Mayhem....giving up?
No, dear reader, a strategic retreat.
I left and soaked my numb hands in warm water. I went downstairs where my clean and freshly showered boys (no getting away with a sprinkle of water and spritz of Febreeze tonight!) watched me cautiously.
I grabbed my yarn bag and told my husband I would deal with it later. I lifted my chin and went to Knit Night, I earned it!
My revenge? This morning the tub was empty except for some boy dirt, soap scum and a bend wire hanger rammed into the drain.
My new plan? Some industrial strength pipe cleaner.
Oh, and I am seriously thinking that the boys should build their own sweat lodge and use that.
And how was your day?
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