All in all, I think we were the life of the party we attended last night. We will certainly be remembered by the masses. You could say that the love for us was overflowing.
One of our very good friends is turning 40, and his loving wife was throwing him an 'open house' style party at their home. They live in a very cool house in the historic part of town, an original townhome that was part of the planned community created as part of The New Deal in 1937. The history of it all is so interesting to me, but that's a whole other post. The house is small by today's McMansion standards, although they are a family of five and live comfortably all together. The thing is, for last night's party, they had about 70 people planning to attend. Mind you, it would be in waves, but altogether they would have many, many people filtering through their home during the afternoon and evening hours. Also needing to be stated at this point is that their home has one bathroom. This is an important detail to the story.
So, we brought our five-member-crew to the party on the earlier side, arriving around 4:00 and planning to stay just a few hours. There were many kids there, so our little ones were content playing and watching DVD's. A couple different people took turns holding the baby, so I even got to eat some food and enjoy some (non-alcoholic, for the nursing mom) punch using two hands! It was a lovely time. I listened to and participated in adult chatter. People were even talking about world matters-- no talk of poopy diapers or spit-up in this crowd. I felt as an adult should.
Then we decided it was time to clear out to make room for more incoming guests. We did what all families with young children do before you go- change diapers, use the potty, give the 5-minute-warnings, the whole shebang. When it was my turn to use the bathroom, the toddler declared "I want come!" As usual, my bathroom time was done with a partner. Here's where things get all stopped up.
As I rise from the seat and turn to flush the toilet, H comes around the side of me. As the water is being flushed away, she begins to wave to the toilet. Now, that doesn't set off any alarms in my head at first. She often cheers for me, "Yeah Mommy!" and waves goodbye to my waste in our regular potty adventures. Something soon told me that this was not the same deal. I looked to see that the doll she had carried upstairs was on the bathroom floor, but it was alone. Wasn't she holding two toys in her hands as she climbed upstairs moments ago? Oh my God, was she holding two toys or one?? AAAHH. Panic begins to set in. I actually stick my hand in the toilet as far as it could go in the hole, and I feel nothing. I wash my hands (very, very well) and ask her if she put something in the potty. She's 20-months-old, so she responds with pretty much babble, but she's still saying "Bye! Bye!" to the toilet. Ugh.
I go to my husband who is finishing up the baby's diaper change, and I quickly tell him that I think there's the slight possibility that maybe, perhaps, I'm not sure, but H may have flushed a toy down the toilet. But maybe not! Maybe I'm getting confused that she had two toys. I can't even remember what she could have been possibly carrying. Maybe I'm getting all worked up and anxious for nothing. Right? Right? As he is the level-headed one, he suggests that we go downstairs and tell the birthday boy about it. ("Hey, we're getting ready to go. Happy birthday. Oh, and by the way, we may have just wrecked your upstairs plumbing. Have a good night!")
When we find the master of the house, he is in the dining room engaged in conversation with the entire room of about eight people. My husband starts to tell him the story when the whole room goes quiet, and everyone turns their attention to this particular conversation. Embarrassment anyone? Our friend is so easy-going and good-natured that he waves it off, don't worry, it'll work out either way. We say our goodbyes. We leave for another friend's house. I sit in the van and have my stomach slowly eaten away by my nerves.
We get the phone call not too much later. Yuppers, you guessed it, the toilet is not working. You know, the only toilet in the house. The house of the party with 70 or so people hanging out in it. The large group of people with many, many potential potty-accident-having-children. It's a good thing that our friends like their neighbors and had them as guests, as they soon graciously opened their homes for bathroom needs. Also, thankfully this house is part of a co-op, so there were no costs incurred in the calling of the plumber who snaked the toilet, to no avail, and subsequently had to remove the whole darn thing from the floor to remove the toy. Apparently it all got settled around 8:30 that evening. Of course, this was also around the time that the party was to be winding down.
After all that, I learned what had been clogging the toilet. Shortly after we had left, I started to get an image in my head of what it could be. My nagging thought was confirmed. A little toy phone. You know what H calls a phone? A 'bye.'
Apparently she was telling me all along.
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