Wednesday, October 17, 2012

It's that special time of year.

It is the month of October so that means two things, one, it is breast cancer awareness month and two, it is time to pump the septic system.  I know that I have mentioned this before here, but it is worth mentioning again since it causes me great distress each time.  There is just something about a big giant truck with the word SEPTIC painted across the side, sitting in your driveway with a huge hose pulled out across your lawn humming loudly while your crap gets pumped out of a buried concrete box.
a diagram for your viewing pleasure
I get the privilege of greeting this man once a year in October.  It is such a special time.  This year he came while the kids and I were outside playing.  I was just waiting for Noah to ask him what he was doing..."ohhhhh I am just here to suck all the poo out of your crap tank!"  Thankfully Noah spared me this one time.  I don't think there was any question what the man was doing in the side yard once the smell started to permeate.  Then you have to smile and wave as he gets into his truck full of horribleness.  "Have a nice day and enjoy your clean tank!  I will see you next year when you filthy animals fill it up again!"
No this is not "my" septic about how creepy that would have been? 
Oh and you uppity town water/sewer people...your situation is pretty gross too.  I have seen where all yours ends up thanks to hubby's job building water treatment plants.  It's all gotta go somewhere.  But dude??? The crap that city folks flush down the toilet...really people?  Us septic tankers know better then that.  One tampon gets in there and you might be out two grand!

I am going to tell a little tale about a teenage girl who had a friend from the city.  All my life I was told we were not to flush any feminine hygiene products down our toilet.  It was drilled into our little heads.  That and the whole "if it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown flush it down."  I knew the deal, I knew why, but that did not make it "cool" to discuss with your new friends.  Well I learned the hard way when this city sewer girl decided that along with feminine hygiene products she would also like to flush about a roll and a half of toilet paper down the poo pot.  Thankfully the offender had gone home when the trouble began.  See, usually septic houses don't have very strong water pressure.  Wads of toilet paper the size of puppies can easily get stuck in the pipes.  About 3 hours after the offender left we see water seeping out from under the door of the downstairs bathroom onto my parents brand new hardwood floors.  The story ended with my dad in the basement, large black trash bin under the pipes, gloves up to his elbows, while he manually scooped this sopping wet catastrophe out.  I of course was called down to bear witness.  Since then I have no problem explaining that if anybody dares to flush anything besides shit down my toilet they will be personally responsible for getting it out when it lodges into a nice little corner of the poop shoot pipe.

I won't mention names but I have also heard a tale about a twenty-something year old woman being called by her father because he had just had his septic system pumped and there was a alarming number of condoms found blocking up the wholes in the leach field piping.  Mind you she hadn't lived in her fathers house for a number of years and also denies she had any part in the high volume of prophylactics.  It just goes to show you that these septic folly's can follow you around.

 I swear that having a septic my whole life has built some serious character.  :) Well that sums up this beautiful post!  

Monday, October 15, 2012

You better get some gloves on.

A list of events from the previous week that have taken a year off my life.
  • The weekend of October 6th, Dov and I celebrated our 6 year wedding anniversary.  It was wonderful.  We were able to convince the grandparents that they should spend some quality time with the kids (overnight), and also got my parents to watch the dog so we could have a solid evening and morning without kids or animals.  The trouble started when we got home.  Tahoe, the dog, starts this strange wheezing, shallow breathing, hacking up mucus thing.  He seemed in enough distress that I believed for a few hours that this might be the end.  He kind of snaped out of it by bedtime so we chalked it up to anxiety from the weekend away etc. (he is a huge pussy).  By the morning though things were right back to bad.  Of course Dov is now at work and I have the kids, one of which I have to drive back and forth to the elementary school about a dozen times a day.  The vet makes me a appointment for 3:30 and tells me to keep my infected dog in the car (hows that for making you feel like a leper) and wait for someone to come out.  About 30 minutes later, after the kids have unbuckled themselves and are screaming, yelling, and jumping all over the sick dog and me, the tech comes out to get us.  Kennel cough.  Tahoe, the dog that never goes anywhere, not to the groomer, not to the kennel, nowhere but my parents house has kennel cough.  Easy enough and it didn't cost our entire bank account to fix him so I was happy.
  • Potty training.  EVERY SINGLE PERSON I HAVE TALKED TO SAID GIRLS ARE EASIER.  This is NOT true.  Isabella has been incredibly difficult.  She loves the idea of underwear but is completely unwilling to consistently use the potty.  This leads to horror shows when I want to be away from the house for more then a hour.  She refuses to wear a diaper and will definitely have a accident. It is awful.  I wish that we had never started this mess.  Just let her eventually decide that she wanted to use the toilet and never of brought it up.  Yesterday I found her outside, no pants, no underwear.  "What is going on Isabella?"  "Nothing."  "Where are your pants?" "Over there." "Why?" "I don't want to wear them."  Of course they were wet.  On and on this has gone for over a month.  Some days she does great, others she craps on her bedroom rug.  I am at a loss.  Noah was wayyyyyyyyyyyy easier.  Just show the boy he can pee standing up while aiming at stuff and it was done.  Isabella...well she said it herself, "Mom.  I am Isabella Lazy Pants."  Yes you are little one...yes you are.
  • Now it is Monday morning 6 am.  I am enjoying a beautiful sunrise and I let the dog out to do his business.  10 minutes later I go to let him in and he comes running in the house in the shitting position.  Picture a dog taking a picture it taking a shit and running.  Okay so now that we are on the same page you know what I was thinking.  GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE NOW!  In the back door and out the front he went.  I followed him out there and he proceeds to keep in the squat position.  I can see a turd in his butthole.  I call Dov, who is halfway to Connecticut (why is it that the shit, literally, hits the fan whenever he is gone) and tell him what I just told you.  His suggestion...GET A GLOVE ON. Ummmmmm no.  If there is going to be gloves involved you better turn that truck around.   In the words of Sweet Brown, "ain't nobody got time for that!"  Luckily for Tahoe, and me, the turd worked its way out on its own.  HAPPY MONDAY!!
  • Corn mazes are not made for children that don't walk good. Just so you know they don't walk good till they are 10.
  • If your not paying attention your son will eat about 5 tablespoons of maple butter to his face at Texas Roadhouse. 
That concludes my list.