The Sewer Follies

Last Thursday night, our area got seven and a half inches of rain in two hours.  Apparently, that’s two months worth of rain.  Well, needless to say, we got some water in our basement.  Not, not the kind you would think -- a little seepage from the foundation or an incorrectly set downspout.  Oh, no.  It was sewer water. 

I saw the dreaded stuff gushing out of the drain in a low fountain.  It had already hit the carpet by the time I saw it, so there was nothing to do except run around like a mad man picking up toys, books, photo albums, suitcases, crates and cardboard boxes that had been thoughtlessly left on the basement floor or low-lying shelves. Of course, I had dinner on the table for the boys and extra meatballs in the oven for freezing later, just adding the the stress.  (BTW - Those meatballs were hockey pucks when all was said and done.)

I immediately called Scott bawling (one would think I could have kept it together a little better) only to learn that he hadn’t even left work yet.  The flooding was so bad that the usual 17 minute drive home took over an hour and a half.  Roads were completely covered in water, cars had been washed away, even the highway was closed in several spots because the water was too high to drive through.  It was a crazy mess.

My favorite part of the evening was when the tornado sirens went off.  Being from Kansas, I could see that our area was not actually in immediate danger.  But, since we couldn’t go in the basement, I shuffled the four boys into the bathtub, just in case.  I felt like someone trying to keep wiggly puppies together in a box.  I’d run downstairs for an armload of stuff only to return to see someone had wandered off into the kitchen or the hall way and I had to usher them back to the tub.  After a few minutes in the tub, I heard a big scafuffle.  “Mommy!  Joe peed on me!”  I couldn’t even imagine, but he had.  That little turkey.  In the midst of the craziness, the spirit of naughtiness overtook him, and he peed on his brother’s foot, right there in the bathtub.

That must have been a rough night for all of the kids – lots of yelling on my part, maybe an undeserved spanking or two in my effort to keep everyone away from the basement.  Hopefully, they’ll forgive me.  Once Scott got home, we couldn’t wait to get them in bed and start cleaning up.  The water had receded by then – only a few minutes after I hear the city pumping at the end of our street.  Really, you couldn’t have pumped an hour ago and avoided all of this mess?

Scott took the next day off, and a friend mercifully watched Andrew and the older boys watched TV while we ripped up the nasty carpet and pad.  Let me tell you, there are not too many things I deal with everyday that are so gross.  My own kids’ poo is fine, but other people’s poo?  Yuck.  The carpet pad was just like a big sponge.  Fortunately, the city put out dumpsters at the end of the street to collect all of the contaminated refuse.  Gee, thanks, city.  So generous of you.

My parents came the next day on a planned visit.  Bad timing for them, but kind of good for us.  My mom watched the kids while my dad helped us Clorox out the basement and wash down anything that survived.  We went through three gallons of Clorox and a bottle of Lysol.  As it turns out, we didn’t lose too much.  All of the kids clothes and toys are in plastic bins.  We brought down the kiddie pool and filled it with bleach water and washed down the bottoms of all of the bins.  It was a brilliant idea stolen from a neighbor.  I did lose a pack ‘n’ play, but less than a week later, I had a woman offering me hers since they were done with it forever.  Nice.

The best part of all of this was the neighbors helping each other out.  Julie and her two daughters used to live next door, but sold their house a year ago.  They all came back over that next morning to help out the neighbor across the street who was recently widowed.  If it’s bad cleaning up other people’s poo in your own basement, how much worse is it doing it in someone else’s basement?  It was a beautiful thing to see.

So, that’s the end of the story.  Mom and Dad are here now (Dad’s actually in Osh Kosh for a few days) and they’ve lost their ‘guest room’ that is our basement.  The boys miss their play room.  Even bleached out, there’s a red dust of some sort from previous flooring that sticks to their feet and coats the bottoms of their shoes or bottoms if they sit on the floor.  Plus, most of the toys are being stored in the garage.  At least it’s summer and we can shove them out doors!