Summer Memoirs Part I

In the middle of May, my husband James was invited to a bachelor party in the woods in Western Maryland. The event was several days long and happened to be about twenty minutes from his parents' lake house at Deep Creek Lake. We knew we couldn't justify spending two or three nights at the bachelor party when those were prime family time days and the kids and I hadn't spent more than a few waking hours with him during that week (did I mention that his round trip commute is 3 hours on average?), and probably wouldn't the next, since he was going to South Dakota for work, so we decided I would take the kids to the lake house while James spent the day with his man friends, probably coming home once everyone was asleep. James' parents and brother and his girlfriend came and helped me with the babies, which was such a blessing. As you can expect from a weekend at the lake house with loved ones, it was amazing.

We came home on Sunday night with some daylight hours to spare, and hung out in our backyard before we even brought our suitcases into the house or unpacked. (This proves that I was seriously relaxed because I am frantic about unpacking the minute we arrive anywhere. Perhaps this wouldn't be a problem if I was a more organized packer, but I just know that if we wait, someone will pee themselves or worse and I will be throwing everything out of our trunk looking for extra socks and/or underwear for everyone or I will get peanut butter in my eye while making a sandwich like I did the other day and I'll need a new contact ASAP and not be able to find it). James and I put the dog and kids in the backyard, watching them get all their energy out from the 3.5 hours in the car, and started talking about what our trip to the Western Maryland wilderness had inspired: it would be nice to have more property, and maybe we could even fulfill my dream of having a chicken coop and his of having a stream (but not one that would ever flood too much or get too deep for the kids :). It was starting to get dark and we finally decided it was time to start unloading and doing bedtime. I brought a suitcase upstairs to the kids room and all our talk about moving in the distant future came to be not so distant. I found this:

Without stepping into the room, I went directly back downstairs, saying a Hail Mary the entire way down, asking God to help me figure out the best way to tell my husband that structure of our home has been compromised, that the ceiling in the childrens' bedroom had collapsed.

We had bought this house two years ago. It was our first house. We didn't expect perfection. We had replaced the furnace, hot water heater and fire place. We had tried to fix a bunch of other random things. I had painted about half the rooms. But this?

That piece of drywall in the picture is on top of the kids' bed (which was a mattress on the floor, which was my grandparents and my parents mattress and is several decades old, so no real loss there). But what if we hadn't decided to go to the lake? All of this would have fallen on top of the kids. Would I have been able to hear them? I could not begin to think about it; there was some serious guardian angel action going on here and we were to be very thankful. But...why had the ceiling fallen down!?

James remained in the backyard for what seemed like as long time before going inside to check it out, while I called our parents and homeowners insurance (I guess we are still at that age where you call your parents for help when things like this happen.)

We had approximately 36 hours before James' flight would leave for South Dakota. I had planned to go up to my parents house for a few days while he was gone. Since I had no idea where to begin with cleaning up a ceiling that had collapsed, I went into super mama bear mode and decided that we needed to leave the premises as soon as possible before the rest of the home fell down on us or the insulation, which had escaped from the attic and could be absetos, began to cut our lungs. The entire family slept in the basement that night. I left for my parents' in the morning and James spent the entire next day and night cleaning up the mess with the help of his dad and a friend...thank goodness for them! They took over 300 lbs of ceiling garbage to the dump!

Meanwhile, the kids and I went to relax at my parents pool :) My parents and siblings and grandparents were all around even though we had decided to come early, and in the middle of the week, and the kids were entertained and exhausted at the end of every day. I was beginning to think that I got the good part of the deal here with James handling most of the cleanup; aside from calling a few contractors and insurance, I had done very little to remedy the situation.

On our last day there, I was alone with the kids for the first time all week. My parents' yellow lab had escaped and I was trying to herd him and the three kids into the house for lunch. Instead of listening, he ran  into my right thumb and broke it at tendon that controls my wrist and fingers.

That incident made it only slightly easier to force myself to leave my parents' home, which not only has in tact ceilings, but a pool, yard, space, and most importantly, a bunch of other adults who could help with the kids. On the drive back, I was feeling pretty overwhelmed and stressed about how to handle the collapsed ceiling thing, even though the cleanup was mostly done. We had scheduled a bunch of estimates for insurance. But what if they didn't cover it? Even if they did, it was going to be a big expense. This was the kind of thing we just hadn't saved money for. What about the ceilings in the other rooms? What about all the kids' stuff that had insulation all over it?

I was pulling onto the interstate, about five minutes from my parents, when Caleb informed me that he had to pee. I had tried to force him to go right before he left, but seeing that he is the most stubborn kid ever (wonder where he gets that...) and so here we were, on the ramp to the highway. I had a 100 pound puppy and the three kids in the car by myself. There was no way I could run to a rest stop and leave them somewhere off the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania interstate, and there was no way he could go in some rest stop off the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania interstate by himself as he still isn't following two-step directions. This wasn't an unfamiliar problem; when we were potty training (the last two summers), I would drive everywhere with a little potty in my passenger seat, sometimes, yes, just dumping it out the window. On the drive up, Eleanor had to pee and I prompty handed her one of the diapers meant for my 11-month old. She was able to pee in it without making any mess at all. Since there was nowhere to pull over, I thought I would try the same for Caleb. After about a minute of him trying o figure out how this would work, I felt myself get sprayed by...you guess it, a generous sprinkle of urine decorated my already dirty shirt and the drivers' seat. I now had a home that was falling down, a broken hand, and had been recently peed on by my 5 year old.