Taking It Easy

Upon returning home from our first weekend in the hospital, many friends and family wished us well and told me to "take it easy". I tried. But this is what "taking it easy" for the mother of two toddlers really looked like.

Sunday, I was discharged from the hospital. We celebrated with lunch at the Spaghetti Factory. Elise had an accident in the bathroom. Our car battery was dead. We called mall security and were promised a jump-start. We waited in the car for 30 minutes for the mall security to arrive. They never showed. We called again. We learned that not only had the security staff changed shifts and not told the new shift of our predicament, but it is against policy for security to jump start a car. But I discovered that my big belly and exhausted face gathers sympathy and we are offered a jump from a sympathetic driver.

Monday, I tried to distract myself from my sorrows by joining a friend for an afternoon at the splash park. We returned to find the house filled with that familiar rotten egg odor. I called the gas company. They advised us to vacate our home and wait for an inspector to arrive. It was 6:30 pm when I made the call. The kids were super hungry, but we couldn't eat inside because of the gas and we couldn't go get food because we had to be on site to let the gas company inside. Furthermore, the kids were in their swim suits and I was in a little tank top and shorts. These clothes were great for the park, but not so great as mosquitoes arrived along with dusk.

Jeffrey was unable to bring us some dinner because he was finding us a minivan. We needed to buy one before Tatu is born, and really wanted to buy it before I was stuck in the hospital and unable to help pick it out. So Jeffrey trooped all over town to find good choices for me to view tomorrow - but that night I was on my own.

At 7:15 pm the gas man arrived. It turned out that the rotten smell was not gas, but only our duplex mates pouring nasty cleanser down their drains.

We are allowed back in our house. At this point the kids should have been getting ready for bed, but instead I was rushing to feed them dinner. Part way though dinner, Zion started to squirm and say that he had to go poo-poo. He wanted to try and go on the potty, so I let him give it a try. Five minutes later, he hadn't had any success. So, I lifted him off on the potty and back on the floor. Then he peed. I sent him out of the bathroom so he wouldn't step in the mess while I cleaned it up. I wiped it up then walked out to the kitchen where he was now pooping on the floor. While I fetched paper towels to scoop up the poo, he peed on the side of the table. While cleaned it all up, I sent the kids upstairs so I ccould meet them up there to put a diaper on Zion and get them ready for bed.

Upstairs, I found Zion standing in front of Elise's doll cradle and a puddle in the cradle. Finally I got a break between mopping up messes and was able to get a diaper on Zion. He kept talking about making more poo-poo. I searched the room thoroughly and couldn't find any - so I figured he was referring to the pee. At last I got them to bed - a full hour after their bedtime.

Exhausted, I crashed on the couch and finally tried to "take it easy". I heard Jeffrey's key in the lock. My hero had arrived!

And then I saw it. The missing pile of poo sat right in front of the door. Time slid into slow motion as I stumbled forward, paper towel in hand ready to scoop it up. But before I got there, the door openned. Jeffrey stepped in and his foot landed smack in the pile of poop.

The trouble didn't stop there. In my haste to clean up all of the mess, I accidentally plugged up the toilet with dirty paper towels. We agreed to let it sit and hope it was easier to unplug the next day.

Flash to the next evening. We bought a minivan! I got to drive it home from the dealer. At home the toilet appeared to be unclogged. So Jeffrey tried a flush. But instead of the water going down, it overflowed all over the bathroom floor. As we piled towels to sop up the mess, Jeffrey mentioned that we ought to take a look in the basement underneath the bathroom.

The basement was a disaster. In that corner of the room, we had piled storage boxes, a stereo, and my grandparents' fancy dining room table. It looked like it had been hosed in waste water.

More sopping up of messes. More wet towels piled on the floor.

At this point it was 11 pm. We crashed into bed and hoped tomorrow would be better and we'd finally be able to "take it easy".

But instead of relaxation, the next morning brought bleeding, another trip to the hospital, and the beginning of enforced bed rest. And now that I'm here with plenty of rest and time on my hands, I wish that I was back cleaning up poo and taking care of my family.