The Great Father’s Day Flood of 2013
What do you call a day filled with the best intentions yet riddled with unexpected hitches along the way? This year, we called that day “Father’s Day.”
Things looked promising in the morning. Handmade cards and gifts were delivered with love and appreciation, a lovely breakfast was enjoyed by all, and the sun was shining. We decided it was a perfect day for a Dad’s Day bike ride.
This ride started like any other with Daddy unloading our bikes from his truck and eager kids zooming past one another. Then less than halfway along, smiles deteriorated into frequent stops, complaints, and tears from our five-year-old. She simply wanted to be done… yet there was this unfortunate detail of needing to bike back to the truck before we could be done. Patient Daddy stuck with Sara, encouraging her along, while I pedaled ahead with our boy. “Mom,” said William, “I don’t know if this is actually going to be the “best Father’s Day ever” like my card to Daddy said.” I assured him otherwise.
Once we arrived home, everyone settled into different activities: the kids splashing in the kiddie pool, me gardening, Daddy weed whacking and blowing clean the driveway. As usual, laundry was piled high on the couch so after some lovely garden time, I headed inside to put clothes away.
I heard the sound of running water but noticed the light on in the “powder room,” a tiny bathroom just off our kitchen. I assumed my husband was in there washing his hands… but then the sound of running water didn’t stop. Was he actually hand washing something in the laundry room? Determined to encourage my dear husband to stop working so hard on Father’s Day, I headed toward to the laundry room only to find an inch of water pooling on the floor outside the powder room and filling the laundry room. So much for encouraging hubby Rob to relax… I needed help! After turning off the water and hollering for assistance, I ran to get towels… that is, I tried to run. Not five steps away from this soaking mess, my slippery feet flew out from under me and took me sailing off the hardwood floor. Like a ridiculous cartoon character slipping on a banana peel, I landed flat on my back. (Sorry, no video available of my surely graceful downward choreography.)
Spine still intact, we spent the next hour sopping up water, tossing soaked rolls of toilet paper, moving flooded furniture, drying the floor, then (you guessed it) more laundry. All this and dear hubby still has his lovely twisted sense of humor to comment that I “must have forgotten to sweep under the dryer last time I cleaned the laundry room.” (It wasn’t pretty under my dryer, I don’t recommend looking there unless, of course, your child leaves the water running in a plugged sink and your laundry room is flooded so you have to mop up water everywhere, including under the dryer.)
It only seemed fitting that thunder and pounding rain graced our evening meal (of course, Daddy was outside grilling). Thankfully, he was still smiling despite the great flood of Father’s Day, 2013. “Well, everyone’s healthy,” he said and shrugged when I tried to apologize for the less-than-perfect Dad’s day.
Happy Father’s Day, my dear Rob. This will certainly be a memorable one. I love you and appreciate you more than words can say.