Mount Poo-suvius

I had a seriously shitty day on Monday.

And when I say shitty,

I mean shit. eeeee.

Number 2 is on a movie making kick.

Every night he and Numbers 3 and 4, and sometimes 5, go down into the basement to make a movie.

Two nights ago the four of them were down there on a “shoot.”

My husband was putting Number 6 and 7 into bed.

I was in the office trying to get some work done.

Which was happening until Numbers 2, 3, 4, and 5 came screaming up the stairs from the basement.

Daddy! DAAAAADDDDDYYYYY! DDDDAAAAAADDDDDDDYYYYYY!!!!!!

I ran out of the office.

“Be quiet! Daddy is putting Number 6 and 7 to bed.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU GUYS???” I whisper-yelled.

“There’s water coming out of the drain!!!” screamed Number 4.

There is a drain in the middle of the basement floor.

We never really knew what it was for.

Until two days ago.

“What do you mean, water?” I asked.

“WATER!!!” yelled Number 4 again.

This was a new one.

It wasn’t raining, so that had nothing to do with it.

“Is it clear?” I asked.

“No,” said Number 2. “It’s like a volcano erupting. And it smells really disgusting.”

“IT’S AN EXPLOSION!!!” yelled Number 4.

“Calm down,” I said.

“Smells disgusting like what?” I asked.

“Like sewage,” Number 2 told me.

Fuck.

I ran up to Number 6 and 7’s room. My husband was reading them a story.

“Um… can you go down into the basement? There’s crap coming up out of the drain down there.”

“Is the dishwasher running? Just turn that off,” he told me.

“Um, yeah. I think it’s a little bit worse than that. I think it might be actual crap,” I told him.

He walked out of the room.

He went downstairs.

He wasn’t happy.

The kids were all completely freaked out.

Well, except for Number 4.

Number 2 was pretty grossed out by the, um, number 2.

Number 3 was crying.

Number 5 was bawling. “Is the water going to come all the way up to my room? Is gasp it gasp going gasp to gasp get gasp on gasp my gasp bed???”

Number 4 thought it was particularly funny.

“THERE’S POOP IN THE BASEMENT! AHAHAHAHAHA!

THAT’S DISGUSTING!!! POOP! IN! THE! BASEMENT!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!”

My husband was yelling.

“GET UPSTAIRS!!!”

Number 6 and 7 had made a break from their room, in search of paint.

They were running up and down the hall, laughing maniacally.

It was poo-ndemonium.

I calmed Numbers 2 through 5 down.

I had them hang out up in Number 3, 4, and 5’s room.

I corralled Numbers 6 and 7 and got them into bed.

And then I went downstairs to the basement.

My neat, organized house smelled like a port-o-potty.

The next time you tell someone you had a shitty day, just remember…

Unless your husband is sucking up shit from a poo geyser erupting in your basement, your day just might not be that shitty. 😉