Sam's Island

Yesterday I was still an innocent mother.  Only I didn't know.  I was cooking dinner for a friend who has just had a baby.  Ella, Max and Sam were all playing together in the surrounding vicinity. I was listening to NPR, mulling over how nice it was that Sam was playing with Ella instead of taking every item from my cabinets.  In the far distance, I heard Ella yelling something.  I assumed it was for me, and promptly tuned it out.  I heard something about Sam needing my help.  This is common (Sam needing my help and Ella yelling about that).  I'm of the belief that you should first let kids try to figure it out themselves, and frankly I was tired.  I had just had a silent negotiation on the couch with God about how I couldn't handle anymore poop from the kids and to please figure something else out.

A few minutes later Ella came into the kitchen.  "Mom", Ella has the perfect indignant tone and face (imagine hands on hips), "I yelled for you because Sam needed your help."  I acquired a serious expression.  "You left Sam stranded on a island".  Accusatory tone was strong here.  My serious expression faded for a hint of a smile (oh yes, Ella's imagination is above and beyond, I thought).  Ella saw it and looked stunned, confused. "Mom", more intent this time, "You left Sam stranded on an island of poop water".  Smile leaves my face quickly and I start running to assess the damage, thinking all the while that I had just had a conversation, apparently one-sided, with God concerning this very topic.  Ooh dear.  Yes, I did see the island, and Sam was definitely stranded on it.  It was his favorite blanket that he carries around everywhere, and it was quickly disappearing as an island, but Sam wasn't willing to give it up.  He was pulling and dragging it, through the poop water.  The poop water had overflowed from the toilet that Ella had filled to overflowing with toilet paper, and then flushed, and watched the rising waters without warning me.  The "water" had now spread from the bathroom, and was spilling down the hall way, headed towards the carpet.

I rescued Sam, washed him from head to toe, and sent him downstairs with Ella and Max while I cleaned.

All my bathroom reading material, my clothes, and several toys became collateral damage, as well as the numerous towels and wash clothes it took to clean up the mess.  I unplugged the toilet with a "snake".  It wasn't pretty, I felt violated, and had to leave the bathroom several times to recover from convulsive gags.  I repeated a mantra from one of the kids' books, "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can", until I finished cleaning it.  Then I changed clothes, washed myself off, and finished dinner for my friend.