Tuesday evening, our water heater went
out. Thankfully, we didn’t realize this
until after we gave our son a bath (granted, it wasn’t quite as warm as usual,
but he survived).
That evening I took a sponge bath with
water heated on the stove. The next evening, I took a shower at our recreation
center. Thursday, I didn’t bother. I was determined
to get the thing replaced that day.
Thursday morning, I came home after
dropping off the boy at daycare to find DH on the floor with a pile of rags.
Turns out the broken water heater let loose a bunch of water which leaked into the
hallway, into our son’s room, into the dining area, and even into the drywall in the
spare bathroom. Instead of saying anything, I opened my mouth and started
crying into my hands.
You see, as we discovered shortly after
replacing this floor not two years ago, the cheap crap we bought from the enthusiastic and uninformative sales person is part particle board underneath. Read: moisture travels fast if
it gets underneath. It got underneath and crept like the plague across our
floor. Our floor is now ruined. The entire thing (hallway, dining/living room)
has to be replaced.
The contractor, whom we adore because he’s
honest and straightforward (and unfortunately didn't know before buying this floor), stopped by to assess the damage and outline next steps. The boards will be
removed, the concrete floor will be sanitized to prevent mold, and dryers will
be set up to dry the surface before the new floor can be installed. Depending
on how many days it takes the floor to dry and how long it takes to get the new
flooring in, this whole process could take weeks. WEEKS. In the meantime, the insurance adjuster is
coming over today to see if he can agree with the contractor on what needs to
be done. I’m just praying for God’s providence, which I’ve already seen in the
man from our church who was able to come and install a new water heater
yesterday (just in time for us to shower and wash a LOT of dishes before bed).
I wouldn’t care so much about the timeline
except for the vision of this little red-headed boy crawling around on cement
surrounded by dryers. For days. Maybe longer. Will we need to stay at my mom’s
for part of this disaster? Maybe. Who knows.
Funny how life’s little hurdles become
giant mountains when you’re trying to keep things sane for the sake of a little
one.
This morning, I walked into my son’s room
to get him up (I could hear him babbling in there). He saw me, sat up, and
smiled big as the moon like he does every morning. We talked about whether he
slept well as I changed him, handed him his toothbrush, and got him ready for
daycare. I gave him his milk, brushed his hair, and started dinner in the slow cooker. It's been a good morning after a really hard week.
Every hardship is worth it. Motherhood is
completely amazing even when I’m scaling mountains.
