water damage

Why are Sunday mornings so difficult? It would seem that since we get to sleep in a little later than usual and have both Phil and I home to get the kids ready, it should be easy to get out the door by 9:30. However, we rarely make it to church on time and I almost never manage to feed myself breakfast. So, this morning I tried to plan ahead. I was in charge of bringing snacks for our class meeting so I prepped everything the night before and had the whole morning routine planned out. I got up on time, popped the monkey bread in the oven, and went to set out the kids’ clothes.

Soon, the air filled with smoke and the fire alarm went off. The oven was covered in overflowing cinnamon-butter-gooieness. Oh well, open the windows, fan the smoke detector with a dish towel, keep on cookin’. Then it goes off again. The smoke is getting thick but the actual food isn’t burning so we disassemble the alarm and keep getting ready. Liam is a little worried due to all the fire safety practice we have been doing lately but we explain to him that everything is ok. Vivian, on the other hand, has slept through this whole ordeal and needs to be woken and dressed. Phil takes that job while I rush to get myself dressed.

Then I hear a noise. It’s one of those noises that sets off all mother-alarms saying “this is not any noise I recognize and therefore must be something very bad.” I run to the front room to see water cascading off the ceiling and running down the walls. Liam, in a plastic fireman hat, is standing in the doorway with a garden hose. “Liam NO!” I leap for the front door, about to run out to turn off the faucet when I remember I am wearing only underwear. “Phil! The hose is on and I’m naked!” (not exactly the words every husband wants to hear?) My wonderful husband gives me one look that says “switch jobs – baby on changing table.” (I’m so glad we have been married long enough to communicate telepathically now!). I take over with Vivian who is half-diapered and he rushes out to stop our junior firefighter.

Ten minutes later I’m still not dressed, both children are crying, Phil is drying off the walls with beach towels, the dining table is covered in disassembled picture frames and photos attempting to dry out, fans are going to clear out the smoke, and the house smells like burnt sugar. It was clear we were not going to make it to the church service. So, I made a quick Starbucks run to get a moment alone. I came back to Phil and two happy children playing “go fish” on the floor, all dressed and ready to go. We pulled it together and made it to the class meeting early, even scoring a prime parking spot. So, all was not lost. It was a memorable morning. Later in the car Liam told me, “Mommy, I really want to be a firefighter when I grow up.”

(photo take later in the day - when we could smile about it)