The messy couch

“Daniel, time to get your jammies on.  Come here you cheeky monkey!”

I went to the living room where he was giggling on the couch, please with himself for running away from his jammies.

“Daniel… I’m going to find you!”  I giggled as I walked towards the couch.

“What have you been getting in….” My voice trailed off as I saw the mess all over the couch.  At first glance, it looked like he’d found himself a nice chocolate oatmeal cookie, chewed on, then spat it out and smeared it all over the couch.

Except we didn’t have any chocolate oatmeal cookies.  Or any chocolate or cookies for that matter.

He looked at me with a giant smile spread across his face, his legs, arms, covered in the stuff that resembled half eaten chocolate oatmeal cookies.  It was all over the seat of the couch, the back of the couch, and the side cushion too.

As soon as my voice trailed off, I knew what it was.  I don’t know how it happened.  He was wearing a nappy.  Not pants though.  It was hot that day and we were at home, so he didn’t really need to wear pants.

I picked him up, with one of my arms under his armpits, and the other one holding his feet as if he were a calf at the rodeo.  I tried to hold him as far away from my body as possible, but it didn’t matter.  By the time we got to the bathroom, my pants were also covered in poop.

Did I mention we had 5 guests over for dinner at the time, and dinner was fresh off the BBQ (because we have a yard now and can actually have a BBQ) and ready to be served?

I stood Daniel in the bathtub, taking his nappy that had just as much poop on the outside as it did on the inside.  Again, I’m not quite sure how that happened.  As soon as I got it off and into a bag that I yelled for Aaron to bring me, I turned on the water.

Unfortunately, the bathtub did not come with a plug, so I have been using a silicone cupcake wrapper in the meantime.  I did actually buy a plug, after measuring the hole it needs to fit into, but we all know how I suck at measuring, and the plug didn’t fit.

I adjusted the water temperature and saw Daniel’s arm going towards his bottom. “NO DANIEL! DON’T GRAB ANY….”  But I was too late, he already had a fist full of poop.

One very soapy bath with rinsing straight from the tap rather than the bathwater later, Daniel was cleaned up.  The bathtub was also scrubbed and disinfected, and the couch cushion covers are currently in the washing machine awaiting their third soak/wash cycle with laundry detergent and disinfectant.  Hopefully I will be able to laugh at this incident in the near future, but now if I think about it, it just makes me cringe.

I will post something about moving and the new house soon, when I unpack the DSLR and can take some proper photos.  Oh, and my debate is tomorrow.  Trying not to wet my pants as we speak (er…write).

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Copyright 2013 Sheri Thomson

Never before

Daniel is such a messy eater.  I guess it’s not actually the eating part that’s messy, but more the playing part.  Daniel finds it quite fun to wear his porridge bowl as a hat when he finishes most of his porridge.  After eating an entire meal with his hands, Daniel’s preferred method of cleaning them off is wiping them in his hair.  He also enjoys playing peek-a-boo by holding food on his eyes and then moving it down and shouting “Boo!”

Needless to say, he often needs a bath after breakfast. And then sometimes after lunch. And dinner too. Depending on what he ate, of course.

Yesterday morning was no different. With hair full of porridge bits, he definitely needed a wash. It’s so hot here at the moment, so after his bath, I let him run off out of the bathroom completely starkers and giggling.

“Is someone doing toots?” I heard Aaron ask the kids in the living room. “Someone is a bit…ooooooohhh no,” he said, exasperated.

“Boo! Boo Boo!” Aaron called to me in the bathroom.  I didn’t need him to tell me what was going on. Common sense told me exactly what to expect.

I didn’t, however, expect Aaron to come in the bathroom, wooden toy train track in hand, smelly poop log precariously perched on top.

“At least he got it all on the track.” Aaron told me “There’s none on the carpet.”

“I don’t care, I’m scrubbing that carpet anyway. After I disinfect the train tracks.”

“I’ve never seen Daniel poop on a train track before!” Hannah giggled.

Note to self: Don’t let Daniel have nappy off time if he hasn’t yet done his morning poop. Sigh.

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Poop at McDonalds

It was stinking hot on the very first day of 2013. So stinking hot that our brand new fridge stopped working, and we couldn’t go on our planned outing to the Regatta Centre for bike riding.  Instead, we were stuck at home with no air conditioning.

Hang on, McDonalds was open on Christmas Day (I know, crazy, right?), so of course McDonalds would be open.

“I want an ice cream cone, please mommy?!” Hannah told me. She does love ice cream.

We got our treats and went to the covered playground.

“A birdy!” Daniel kept pointing excitedly at the bird lingering on the fence, no doubt hoping for a bit of our frozen treats.

“A birdy!”

Despite the presence of many tubes and slides and things to climb on, the kids preferred the cubby house, with Daniel stealing my shoes and hiding in there gleefully, and Hannah pretending it was her ice cream shop.

After playing for half an hour or so, Hannah came out of the cubby house “I have to go potty, Mommy.”

“Ok, I’ll gather our things and we can go potty and then come back out to play.”

I found my shoes and zipped up my backpack. “Ok, let’s go.”

“I don’t have to go right now.”

“Um…ok. Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

They continued playing, Daniel with his giggles, and Hannah selling me pretend ice cream.

A little bit later, she came out of the cubby house, a concerned look on her face.  She stood still and reached behind her, grabbing at the bottom of her underpants.

“Mommy, I think I did a bit of poo,” she told me, looking at her finger. As my mind processed what she was actually looking at on her finger, I could see it moving steadily toward her dress.

“DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING!!!! DON’T WIPE YOUR FINGER ON YOUR DRESS! I’LL WIPE IT FOR YOU!!” She looked at me, slightly startled and didn’t move a muscle.

I grabbed the wipes out of my backpack, as fast as humanly possible and scrubbed her poopy finger with it.

Checking her underwear, I found a little bit of squidgy poop. Not much. Just a shart (you know, a fart where a little s%*t comes out). “Did you think you just had to do a toot?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s ok, sweetie, let’s go to the bathroom and clean you up.”

I carried Daniel while Hannah followed me, waddling awkwardly, as if she was trying to walk without her underpants touching her legs, and attracting stares as we went.

I didn’t have any plastic bags or anything with me, since she’s been potty trained and accident free for 2 months now.

“No mommy, don’t throw them away!!” Hannah yelled when I put her soiled underpants in the nappy bin.  I didn’t really have a choice, I wasn’t about to have poopy underwear floating around in my backpack.

She put a new pair of undies on and we went back out to play. Poor sausage, it’s hard to teach them about sharts.

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Failed sleep in

I stood next to the bedroom door, my ear pressed right up against it. I could hear Aaron and Hannah making breakfast in the kitchen. I couldn’t hear Daniel, which meant he was either getting into mischief, or playing quietly. I slowly turned the door handle, which makes loud noises no matter what you do, and peeked my head past the doorway.

Daniel was sitting in the living room, his back towards me, reading a book. Or maybe playing with a train or something. I couldn’t really tell, since his back was to me. He didn’t seem to notice the noise the door handle made, and continued playing without even a small glance over his shoulder.

I decided to go for it, tip-toeing my way to the bathroom and opening the door as quietly as I could.

It was my sleep in day. And by sleep in, I mean laying in bed reading on my Kindle until 7:30am. Aaron gets to sleep in on Saturdays, I get to sleep in on Sundays. The kids don’t know that we aren’t actually asleep during our sleep ins, otherwise they would stand and the door banging, wanting whomever is having the sleep in to come out and play. For some reason, they don’t bother us if they think we’re actually asleep. It’s a great system.

Except that I always have to poop about 5 minutes after I wake up in the morning. I held it as long as I could this morning, but then I needed to go. I had to take a gamble and try to get to the bathroom without being spotted.

My efforts were paying off. I didn’t hear any cries of “MOMMY!!” I didn’t hear any little feet bounding down the hallway, nor did I hear any tell-tale banging on the bathroom door. I was home free. I’d managed to get there and do my business completely unnoticed.

I stood inside the bathroom, ear to the door, listening for signs of anyone in the vicinity who might hear or see me upon my exit.

I could still hear Hannah and Aaron making breakfast gleefully in the kitchen. I still couldn’t hear any noise from Daniel. He will sit and read books for ages.

Slowly, I turned the door knob and opened the door, quiet as a mouse, chuffed with my efforts.

And then, I saw him. There he was, standing right next to Aaron’s and my bed, his chubby little fingers playing with the iPad.

He turned around, a cheeky smile on his face, and saw me standing there like a stunned mullet in the hallway, my eyes wide as saucers. How did I not hear him going in there?

“Mommy!”

Busted.

“You should have shut the bedroom door.” Aaron told me.

Needless to say, I didn’t get to sleep in this morning. Sigh.

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Ball in the toilet

The weather has been so nice recently. The sun is shining. The birds are singing. Or making obnoxious noises. Bloody birds. We can wear shorts without being too cold or dripping with sweat. So of course we want to be outside.

We don’t have a yard (or even a balcony), so we invite ourselves to Grandma’s house when we feel like getting our hands dirty. The backyard is filled with all sorts of kids’ things. A slide, cubby house, tricycles, mini trampoline, etc. Not to mention my vegetable garden.

My purple pea plant. It’s so big it grew over it’s support fence. The pea pods are a deep purple colour. Awesome, I know.

The kids also love seeing Grandma (and YaYa, when she’s there) when we visit. Hannah especially. Hannah adores Grandma.

Last time we went, Grandma wasn’t there. No worries, I have a key. We played anyway. I got out Hannah’s tunnel and the kids spent most of their time pushing balls inside the tunnel and giggling.

Melissa & Doug Happy Giddy Tunnel

I got all this stuff before Daniel was born. Hence all the pink and purple…

“Mommy, I have to go poo poo!” Hannah yelled. She clearly needed to go right then, too busy playing to notice or acknowledge the need to go before she really needed to.

At home she’d just let herself into the bathroom. But at Grandma’s house, the door handles tower above her head. She can’t even remotely reach them. I had to go with her.

“Ok, I just have to get Daniel. Just hold it a little longer baby!”

Daniel was in the tunnel. He saw me coming towards him and decided to crawl as fast as he could to the middle, giggling as he went.

“DANIEL! Come on bud, you have to come out now.” He kept going towards the other side. Thinking I could outsmart a 1 year old,  I ran over to the other end of the tunnel to nab him and bring him inside with us. I couldn’t leave him out there by himself. He likes to climb the cement steps that have no fence on the sides and could easily fall face first off the top. I know because when Hannah was little, she did that once. Except there happened to be a wheelbarrow full of weeds right next to the stairs, so she didn’t get hurt.

As I got to the end of the tunnel, he giggled and crawled to the other side again. Did I mention how cheeky my son is?

“Mommy, it’s too late!” Hannah was grabbing her butt through her pants upset that there was something besides her butt to grab. (I’m glad she wasn’t grabbing inside her pants….)

“Ok baby, I’m just trying to get Daniel, hold the rest in if you can!”

Cheeky boy was still going end to end in the tunnel, giggling all the while. I picked up one end of the tunnel and held it in the air so he couldn’t run around it anymore.

“Ha! Got you!” He tried to escape, but my grip was too strong. I carried him inside with one of the pink balls in his hand.

I looked in Hannah’s underwear. 1 little nugget.

I pulled down her underpants, nugget still inside and put her on the little potty. Daniel was running around at the other end of the bathroom, pulling on all the towels.

I opened the lid of the toilet and brought the underwear over the bowl, shaking to remove the nugget.

“NO DANIEL!!!!”

He came out of nowhere. Cheeky little ninja boy.

I could see the bright pink ball in my peripheral vision, quickly going from chubby baby hand to water in the toilet bowl.

I reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding the underwear in attempt to grab the ball before it went in the toilet.

But it all happened so fast.

I missed.

Just as I reached out with my non-underwear holding hand, the poo nugget fell from the undies, hitting my arm at the same time the ball hit the toilet water.

Sigh.

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It’s not poop

Aldi often has random things. For those of you who don’t know what Aldi is, it’s supermarket from Germany that mostly sells it’s own brands, and it’s cheaper than your usual supermarkets. It’s kind of like Costco.  If Costco decided to stop taking steroids.

Anyway, the other day they had meatloaf. Already made up, no preservatives, vegetables already inside it, in it’s own disposable baking tray, not very expensive, meatloaf. Awesome. If you recall, I don’t eat beef . I think it tastes vile. Aaron likes it though, but I hardly ever cook it. I want the kids to eat it too and not be a fussy pants like me.

Tempo Meat Loaf Mix, 12-Count Box of 2.75-Ounce Packets

So I bought the meatloaf. Any beef that I don’t have to stick my hands into or actually touch in any way, shape, or form, is great. Yes, I’m one of those weirdos who doesn’t even like to eat food was cooked next to beef. The beef will contaminate it. Duh.

I baked the loaf in the oven, then cut a piece for Daniel and another for Hannah as part of their dinner (in addition to corn on the cob, and some fruit. Don’t forget the meatloaf already had other vegetables in it. Like peas. And carrot).

Daniel, hoover that he is, couldn’t get it in fast enough. He devoured that meatloaf like it was going out of style. The other day, he stole a lamb cutlet from a platter of them and ate it like an ice cream cone. But that’s another story for another day. He’s such a boy….

I put Hannah’s 3-separate-areas, melamine plate in front of her. She looked at it all funny. Her index finger slowly came forward and poked the meatloaf.

“That’s POOP!” She exclaimed.

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh….

“It’s NOT poop!” I told her, containing my inner fits of laughter, “it’s meatloaf.”

“It’s poop! We don’t eat poop Mommy.” She told me, all matter-of-factly.

Everyone Poops

“It’s not poop Hannah, it’s meatloaf.” The laughter was getting harder and harder to contain. I still wanted my little comedian to try her meatloaf. Or at least believe me that it was not poop.

“No, it’s definitely poop.”

Once Hannah is convinced of something, there is no changing her mind. She is stubborn like that. Sigh.

She got up out of her chair. She no longer sits in one of those booster seats that doesn’t let her escape because of it’s buckles. She says she’s a big girl now and had me take the booster seat off of her chair.

The First Years Disney Princess Simple and Secure Booster

“Sit down Hannah, it’s dinner time. You don’t have to eat your food, but you have to sit at the table during dinner time.”

“I have to go pee-pee.” She’s clever. She goes pee-pee during dinner every. single. night. Sigh. But I can’t really refuse her the use of the potty either.

“Ok, go pee-pee, wash your hands, then come straight back and sit at the table.”

She did. Only she didn’t sit in her chair, she went and sat in Aaron’s chair (he was still at work. He doesn’t get home in time for the kids’ dinner).

“That’s not your chair Hannah, that’s Daddy’s spot.”

“I don’t want to sit next to the poop!”

I couldn’t contain my laughter any longer. I know I shouldn’t have laughed but how could I not?

“It’s not poop Hannah. Look, Daniel ate all of his meatloaf. He loves it. He wouldn’t eat it if it was poop.”

So she got down out of Daddy’s chair, picked the meatloaf up with her fork, carried it over to Daniel’s booster seat tray, and shook the fork until the meatloaf fell off.

“Here Daniel, you can have my poop since you like it so much.”

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“What’s this Mommy?”

Last week it was really hot.  Like 35 degrees (95f).  And humid. Ick.  Did I mention we don’t have any airconditioning?  Anyway, the kids and I were disgustingly hot and sticky, so we got the pedestal fan out of Aaron and my bedroom and planted it in the playroom (aka the living room…).  I stripped Daniel down to his nappy and Hannah went one step further, choosing to be completely starkers.  We laid on the living room floor, arms out wide, relishing the kinda cool air from the fan.

A little while later, Hannah held something up. It was small, about the size of a pinky fingernail. And dark.

“What’s this Mommy?” She asked me, inspecting it.

She didn’t really let me answer. “It’s a poo nugget,” she stated.

I laughed.  How could I not laugh? “It’s not a poo nugget sweetie!  Maybe it’s a raisin?”

I went over to investigate anyway.  I didn’t want her eating random raisins off the floor.

Then I saw it.  Next to her foot there was indeed a poo nugget. It must have fallen off the tiny piece in her hand when she picked it up. Oh my gosh, my daughter was holding up a piece of poo.  In her hand. EEEEEWWWWWW!

“Oh, it is a poo nugget!”

I got some toilet paper from the bathroom and picked up the nugget and the disgusting nuggety fragment from her grubby little hand and flushed it down the toilet, washing our hands vigorously afterwards.

A bit later she was next to the couch.”Oh, there’s another poo nugget.” She told me.

I didn’t doubt her for a second this time.  I looked all around, but all I found was a piece of fluff.

“Do you mean this?”  I asked her.

“Yeah, it’s a poo nugget.”

Thank goodness it wasn’t.  I threw the fluff away.

The next day I was sitting on the couch.  Something icky kept filling my nose.  Something poopy.  I sniffed around like a dog on the scent of a rabbit.  I got down on all fours, nose to the ground and moved forward toward the scent as it got stronger.  Finally I came to the edge of the couch.  The smell was strong there.  I looked all around, but couldn’t see anything.  It didn’t help that our carpet is a disgusting 80s brown, shaggy thing.

But there it was, under the couch.  Under the couch?  How in the world does a poo nugget get under the couch?  I’m not sure I want to know.  But I was in the playroom/living room with them when Hannah had her nappy off, and I certainly didn’t see her pooping.  Nor did I see her putting anything under the couch.  Not to mention that poo nugget was about 10 feet away from the other poo nugget.  WTF? I’m not sure I want to know….

On the plus side, ever since that day, Hannah wants to wear underpants. But, she doesn’t actually want to sit on the potty, so I’ve been spending a lot of time with a towel and the carpet cleaner.  Sigh.

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2 weeks

Hannah is very regular.  She poops every day.  Usually.  Mostly.  But she didn’t poop today.

“Where is your poo-poo today?”  I asked her as I changed her nappy.

“In my bottom.”  Fair enough.

“When are you going to do a poo-poo?”

Without hesitation, she told me  “In two weeks.”

“Two weeks? I think if you don’t poo for two weeks, your tummy will be pretty sore.”

“One week.” She said matter-of-factly.

She’s so funny!

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How to scare a 2 year old

Hannah loves Daniel.  She constantly wants to cuddle and kiss and hold him.  When he’s hungry, she wants to go and get him food.  She is forever coming up to the couch when I’m feeding him, holding out her hands, and saying “Come here baby Daniel, give me a cuddle.”  But she does it in that goochy-goochy-goo-I’m-like-100-and-I’m-going-to-pinch-your-cheeks old-lady voice.  It’s really cute, but also really hard not to laugh at.

During one of these episodes, I laid Daniel on the couch and let Hannah give him a little cuddle.

PPPPPFFFFTTTTT!!!  Daniel did the loudest, wettest, longest poo you can possibly imagine.

Hannah’s face instantly turned from happy/goochy-goochy-goo, to frightened.  She actually jumped a little.  She looked at me for reassurance, and quickly backed away from Daniel, her eyes wide as saucers.

“It’s ok Hannah,” I told her “Daniel just did a poo poo, that’s all.”  She didn’t look convinced.  Nor did she want anymore Daniel cuddles that day.

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A day without plumbing

Yesterday morning, our sewer got blocked.  This apparently happens every 5 years or so due to a large tree in the back yard that enjoys growing roots in the sewer line.

“Can you call your plumber?”  We asked Grandma.  Yeah, she has a plumber, she’s all loyal like that.

“He won’t be able to come out today, he’ll be drunk, I know what he’s like!”  Grandma told us.

“Why do you keep using him then??!!”  Aaron asked.

She explained that she keeps him as her plumber because he has never ripped her off and does a good job.  He just likes to get drunk after work and on weekends.  Apparently….

“It will be expensive to get someone out today.  Last time I called someone on the weekend, they wanted to charge $600 just to come out!”  Grandma is so stubborn. Besides, we were paying for it anyway.

“We can’t go without plumbing Grandma, there are too many of us!  What about the dishes, the laundry, Hannah’s bath, Aaron’s shower in the morning…”  I told Aaron and Grandma.

“You two are spoilt!  Just wait until tomorrow.”  Grandma told us.

Ok, I can pee in the woods just fine when I’m camping, but it’s normal to do that when you’re camping, everyone else is doing it too.  And no one has a shower, but no one else is either, so it’s fine.  But at home?  No, sorry, it’s not normal to pop a squat in your backyard, especially when your neighbours could easily look out their windows and see you doing just that.  Plus, I’m 26 weeks pregnant.  I can barely bend over, let alone squat!  If I tried to relieve myself in the bushes, I’d probably end up on my backside, with a stick up my @$$ and pee all over my legs.  And what about Grandma?  She’s 81.  She certainly can’t go in the bushes!

I called the emergency plumbers.  Humph, they wanted to charge $380 just to come out.  Well, one did, the other didn’t actually answer the phone.  How can you have a 24/7 emergency plumbing business if you don’t answer your phone on a Sunday when the rest of the places are closed??

Fine, a day without plumbing it would have to be.  Sigh.  At least I didn’t have to do any dishes.  Of course that meant they’d pile up all day and I’d have a heap to do the next day.

“What happens if I flush the toilet or use the sink?”  I asked Grandma.

“Poo will go all over the yard.”  Yuck!

Everything was going fine, we weren’t making too many dishes. Hannah didn’t get so grubby that she had to have a bath.  Aaron was peeing in the bushes out back.  Grandma and I were peeing the least often we possibly could and then going in the toilet without flushing (gross, I know, but what else could we do?).  We only used a bit of water to wash our hands.

But then I had to poop.  Yes, unfortunately, I didn’t have to go that morning, before the sewer was blocked.  Humph.  I was cooking Hannah’s dinner.  I could feel the need rising.  And rising some more.  Getting more and more urgent.  Nope, I couldn’t make it until the next morning.  I have a baby who enjoys laying as far down as he possibly can, with frequent kicks on my bladder and backside, from the inside.  Nope, couldn’t possibly hold it all night long.

“What do I do?”  I asked Aaron.  “Seriously, what do I do??

I looked around, hoping to find some inspiration, an idea.

“I could put a bag on a bucket and go in that, wrap it up and then put it in the trash.”  I’m pretty sure he was trying not to laugh. But then I couldn’t ever use that bucket again.  No, that was no good.

“What if I put a bag over the toilet seat and go in that, wrap it up and throw it away?”  No, what if the bag falls in the toilet?  Then what?  Ew.

I continued walking around the house, increasingly frantic and crazy like, wondering what I was possibly going to do.

“Why don’t you go to the gym and use the toilet there?”  Aaron asked me.  Yeah, seems logical, but we all know how I feel about pooping in public.  And seriously, that would be way worse because that is my gym.  I see those people every time I go there.  They’d know that I went there just to poop, and who does that?

“I can’t do that, they’d know what I did!  I’d check in there, go to the bathroom and leave.  What if they asked me about it?”

“Go to the gas station, fill up the car and use the bathroom there.”

“I can’t do that!”  What if the bathroom was inside?  Gas stations are only little, they’d know how long I was in there, they’d know that I pooped in there.  And then I could never ever go to that gas station ever again.

“Ok, I’ll go hide amongst the trees in the backyard and go there.”  I went out the back.  I looked around the entire yard for a suitable spot where no neighbours would look out the window and see my bare bottom hanging out.  Thinking about actually squatting to poo in the yard was too much.  I couldn’t do that.  Not in broad daylight, neighbours about (“Oh hey ___  *waves while squatting in the bushes*.  Yeah, I’m just relieving myself here, mind not looking?”), and certainly not while pregnant with high likely hood of ending up in the product of attempted squatting.

I went back inside. Oh my gosh, what am I going to do?

“Ok, you finish cooking Hannah’s dinner, I’m going to Kmart.  I have to go now!”

Hannah started crying.  She wanted to come to.  I couldn’t bring her, I needed to go!  I had to just leave her there, crying, without comfort from me, bawling in the hallway as I made my hasty exit.  “Mommy!  Hannah come too!  Mommy, Mommy!”  I kept going.

I drove past the local park.  The lights were on in the toilet block.  Should I stop?  Usually the toilets are locked.  I’m not sure why they even have toilets there, they are never open.  But the lights were on.  If they were open, I wouldn’t feel so stupid driving all the way to Kmart and I’d finally be able to relieve myself.  But, if it wasn’t open, I’d be wasting more time, getting more uncomfortable.

I stopped.  The toilets were locked.  $&@^*#(#($(@@***!!!!!!!

I got back in the car, making sure to stick to the speed limit, driving carefully.  I was paranoid of being pulled over, adding more time to my predicament.

“I’m sorry officer, but I really have to poop!  Can we talk about this later, I have to go now!”  That would be just my luck.

I made it to Kmart without incident.  I went inside.  The women’s bathroom was empty.  Relief sigh.  I finally did my business.  Phew.  And then I drove home, thoroughly embarrassed, yet very relieved.

I’m so glad the plumbers came at 7:30 this morning and pulled the tree roots out.  Now we can use water and flush the toilet.  Pregnant women should not be without plumbing!

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