How the Toilet Exploded in My Face

I had the toilet explode in my face and I would like to tell you about that here. Mostly, because after the "eww, gross..." I hope you will sympathize with me. And let me know. And I will feel better. I will use you as my therapist. I will count on you. Please, do not let me down. MAKE ME FEEL BETTER. This is no threat, just a request. Thank you in advance.

I took it upon myself to fix up things in and around the house. This is an old house and there are so so so so many things that are wrong with it that it gets overwhelming, and then we don't know what to start with and then we just don't start and it all stays the same. And then I don't invite anyone over, because the driveway was tiled by a drifter a few years back, and I really can't explain that one to you except that 1- he needed money 2- he said he used to do construction and  3- I feel a lot of misplaced pity for random people and events. I paid him $1,000 to ruin the driveway, because if you think about it, tiles cannot withstand the weight of multiple cars driving around on it daily. Maybe you didn't have to spend much time thinking about that- good for you.

I also tried unsuccessfully for months to get that number again from my friend of that fantastic handyman who once came here but I think the fact that I ask for that number every month or so, and when he gives it to me I program it into my phone and immediately thereafter drop my phone in the toilet or drop it out of the second story window and consequently need the number AGAIN doesn't sit well with him. He no longer answers my calls and texts, even though I promised him free legal counsel for life, courtesy of DH. I also promised him free daily ice cream cones for life and I promised to never tell his wife about that weekend in the Midwest somewhere long ago.  He doesn't care, he won't answer me. I feel let down and frustrated.

I took it upon myself. I took pictures and measurements of screws and caulking stuff and painted the ceiling where once, after a weekend in a sippy cup, the apple juice exploded and left a huge spot. At first I let the family convince me to keep it there, since it looked like blood stains and they said it would be a good conversation starter when people came over, but see last paragraph- I don't let people come over anymore and not sure what kind of conversation that would be, anyways. At one point, when Gigi was painting with watercolors, I took the white and attempted painting over it, and it left it looking grayish/brown. After cleaning around in the garage I found a can of white paint, and the only thing I did have to improvise with was the brush, which was indeed out of one of those little kid coloring books.

I felt pretty darn cool, like there was nothing I couldn't handle. Which is how we came to have 7 boys at my house on Friday afternoon, while Danielle was working at the office. I was super cool. So much so that I challenged the Middle Schoolers to a basketball game. In between I baked cookies. And painted some more. And ordered pizza. And participated in a Nerf Gun war.

Then, I had to go to the bathroom, because so is human nature. I went upstairs in my room, flushed and walked out. Except that the walking was hindered by water spraying in my face, at 1,000,000 gallons an hour. I believe that is literally the case. It went so fast that the little toilet area immediately flooded and started pouring into the larger bathroom. I grabbed every towel in sight and tried to figure out how to STOP this water. My cell phone, on the counter. I called Judd: "Pick up, pick up," I implored and he did. "Hey, Iraina, what's up?"
"O my god, shut up."
"Excuse me?"
"Come on, can't you hear? The toilet is exploding- HOW DO I TURN THE WATER OFF?"
"Umm, how long has this been going on?"
"NOW"
"Excuse me again?"
"IT just happened, water is gushing into the house, CAN'T YOU HEAR IT??"
"Turn it off...?"
"HOW"
He told me how to turn it off. Miraculously it worked. No more water gushing, except that now I was ankle deep in water. I grabbed every towel in the house, told the boys I'd be right back to our Mario Kart tournament and started cleaning like crazy, while also changing clothes. Then I heard them giggling. A little at first, then louder. Then Julian yelled: "Mom, it's raining on us!" and I ran downstairs and they all stood holding the cups that they had been drinking from to the ceiling where it was drizzling water from 30 or 40 different little spots. They were all laughing, having a great time. It was somewhat comical, except that these were mostly boys that had never been to my house before. I strongly suggested that they go outside to play ping pong immediately and not worry about helping me clean the unexpected rain that was suddenly falling and seeping into the house and they didn't really question me too much maybe because I was trying to be super matter of fact and then I sort of screamed it at Thorsten when he said: "Look at me!" and stuck his tongue out to catch the water. Water I hope it was.

And I cleaned it. I also shampooed the couch and mopped the floors and turned on fans and toweled the ceiling and took a shower and cleaned the kitchen and took them to dinner and then to a hockey game and then back home for a sleepover, and then went to my tennis class at 7am the next morning and then off to football and the one boy said: "Wow, your mom has a lot of energy and she cleans a lot" and that is so far from the actual truth that I rewarded myself by staying in bed the rest of the weekend. Contemplating why I would get so punished, just as I had decided to start taking the fix up of the house into my own hands. And it was a mere two days later that DH went to Home Depot and got a little tiny $1 thingy to fix the toilet with and while he was there he also got a new pump for the pond which has not been working for months and maybe this whole thing after all was a blessing in disguise.