I have been breaking a record here, cleaning and laundry and spending time with the kids to not just get caught up but get ahead. It isn't actually working. Things are still chaos and still unkempt. Bah.
I leave in 6 days. 2 of those are ballet/girlscout/playgroup/freezer swap days. 1 is actual day of departure. 1 is church. So, really I have two days left to get all my classroom grading, announcements done, clean the house 30 more times, and get the laundry wrangled.
I am falling into bed early and that means no blogging. That's not what I need. I need to stay true to my own promise, not self sabotage.
So, here are the things I am worried about:
Holly's first loose tooth. If she looses it while I am gone, my heart is going to break a little.
Lily. She's jealous of my trip. She has said this very clearly. She wants to go too and does not understand why she can't.
Isaac. Never been away from me except for one time when he spent one night at Grampa and Nana's house.
I'm not worried about Chad. I'll hide all the duct tape before I go. Why? The kids might use it on him. He'll put up a good fight and eventually they will let him loose. Right?
That's all. Chad is capable and a wonderful dad. That doesn't mean it will be easy or that they won't miss me or that they will keep the house clean, but they will all be fine.
Still, I am going to miss them like crazy..... while I am having a great time.
So, onward!
Thursday 6 February 2014
Monday 3 February 2014
Part Two of Our Poop Story
When you last left me I was freaking out about rats. RATS.
I had pet rats. I love pet rats. They are an awesome first pet, so smart, so sweet, so clean.
Field rats are not that kind of rat. For one, they are like 100x the size. Ok, not really, but we are talking about a huge size difference. Field rats are HUGE. They are also just as smart. Rats are sentient, clever, and territorial. Bonus, dealing with a nest. Not just a mama and some babies, no, a nest of rats could potentially be a complex society/colony (think RATS OF NIMH).
Rats.
Just so y'all know, I was also tempted to post a picture of a dead badger right here. I didn't. Your welcome. That is what my mind was torturing me with though, nightmares of people sized sentient rats, seeking revenge for their dead mouse brothers. Shiver.
Day eight, I called again to ask when they would please come?! She said, What? I thought they already took care of it!
Day fourteen, which felt like day 12,009,988, the sub contractor guy arrived. He was supposed to come the day before but apparently some lady's shower head was poorly installed and leaking in Des Moines and that verses DAY 14 OF NOT BEING ABLE TO REASONABLE FLUSH MY TOILETS WITH THREE KIDS, LAUNDRY COMING TO LIFE AND ATTACKING RANDOM PASSER BYERS, AND OMG THE DISHES AND BABY POOP AND WTF some lady in the big city wins?
Sobbing.
I digress, I greeted him at the door. Showed him the pipes, all I knew about ins and outs, and the issues, and then I left him to do his thing.
He came to the backdoor and told me he needed a specialised tool and would head to town for it.
3 hours later.....(and while my fantastic friend Ashley brought chicken dumplings and mashed potatoes and I ate and ate, yum......) plumber guy calls my cell phone.
I was expecting to hear that he had to drive to the time zone/state over to buy said special tool.......
Ah. No. He was asking for me to flush all the toilets, start the washer, run all the faucets, and any other drains to drain. All at once. He had been working outside clearing the blockage the entire time and I never noticed his return.
I gleefully drained the tub, started both washing machines, turned on the shower and flushed both toilets twice. Seriously, I was gleeful like a squealing pre-teen Justin Beiber fan getting an autograph and a sweaty hat. Maybe more so. So many apologies to my friend Ashley for my emotional breakdown of joy. May you never have to witness such embarrassment again!
The blockage? The wrong kind of toilet paper, a faint smell of bleach...and paper towels and Styrofoam (which was what the rats used for next building, they pulled it from the dumpster he thinks).
What happened? I did ONE load of diaper laundry with a 1/2 cup of bleach. I bought one package of toilet paper that was not septic. We were using antibacterial (orange) Dawn to wash dishes. Pretty much a trifecta of how to ruin the delicate balance of septic system bacteria. See this? I used this.
So, a little exploring around my cleaning supplies revealed this: even bleach SAYS it is septic safe. Go ahead, believe the lies. I did. I lived to tell about it, so may you.
I had pet rats. I love pet rats. They are an awesome first pet, so smart, so sweet, so clean.
Field rats are not that kind of rat. For one, they are like 100x the size. Ok, not really, but we are talking about a huge size difference. Field rats are HUGE. They are also just as smart. Rats are sentient, clever, and territorial. Bonus, dealing with a nest. Not just a mama and some babies, no, a nest of rats could potentially be a complex society/colony (think RATS OF NIMH).
Rats.
Just so y'all know, I was also tempted to post a picture of a dead badger right here. I didn't. Your welcome. That is what my mind was torturing me with though, nightmares of people sized sentient rats, seeking revenge for their dead mouse brothers. Shiver.
Day eight, I called again to ask when they would please come?! She said, What? I thought they already took care of it!
Day fourteen, which felt like day 12,009,988, the sub contractor guy arrived. He was supposed to come the day before but apparently some lady's shower head was poorly installed and leaking in Des Moines and that verses DAY 14 OF NOT BEING ABLE TO REASONABLE FLUSH MY TOILETS WITH THREE KIDS, LAUNDRY COMING TO LIFE AND ATTACKING RANDOM PASSER BYERS, AND OMG THE DISHES AND BABY POOP AND WTF some lady in the big city wins?
Sobbing.
I digress, I greeted him at the door. Showed him the pipes, all I knew about ins and outs, and the issues, and then I left him to do his thing.
He came to the backdoor and told me he needed a specialised tool and would head to town for it.
3 hours later.....(and while my fantastic friend Ashley brought chicken dumplings and mashed potatoes and I ate and ate, yum......) plumber guy calls my cell phone.
I was expecting to hear that he had to drive to the time zone/state over to buy said special tool.......
Ah. No. He was asking for me to flush all the toilets, start the washer, run all the faucets, and any other drains to drain. All at once. He had been working outside clearing the blockage the entire time and I never noticed his return.
I gleefully drained the tub, started both washing machines, turned on the shower and flushed both toilets twice. Seriously, I was gleeful like a squealing pre-teen Justin Beiber fan getting an autograph and a sweaty hat. Maybe more so. So many apologies to my friend Ashley for my emotional breakdown of joy. May you never have to witness such embarrassment again!
The blockage? The wrong kind of toilet paper, a faint smell of bleach...and paper towels and Styrofoam (which was what the rats used for next building, they pulled it from the dumpster he thinks).
What happened? I did ONE load of diaper laundry with a 1/2 cup of bleach. I bought one package of toilet paper that was not septic. We were using antibacterial (orange) Dawn to wash dishes. Pretty much a trifecta of how to ruin the delicate balance of septic system bacteria. See this? I used this.
 |
| From our washing machine cleaner, SAYS it is safe to use. |
What we learned:
- Bleach of any kind, any amount, no. I don't care if so and so's mum used it with no issues....here you go with my tale of woe added to the collective of anecdotal evidence. Bleach is a recipe for septic tank destruction. Any kind. Anywhere.
- Antibacterial soap of any kind, herbal, EO, or Dawn/Dial cannot be used in a septic system home if it will be going down any drain. Fine to use in buckets and dump outside, or with paper towels and thrown away. Not washed on rags, though.
- Toilet paper brand and type matters. Look for this:
- Just because a dish soap is not antibacterial, does not mean it is septic safe. Check.
DO NOT RISK IT. 
SAFE TO USE, MAYBE. - We waste water. We waste water doing dishes, taking long showers, doing laundry. We waste thousands of gallons of water. Literally flushing that expensive and fragile commodity down our drains.
- Rats. All about field rats. Nightmares forever. Plumber dude assured me that they cannot come up the pipes into the toilets. Right?!
- Also, I am suspicious that the paper towels were from the rats. I have a three year old. So there is that.
What we do now to save water:
- Different setting on our washing machines use different levels of water, we use the less water options and extra rise is used sparingly.
- Clothes get inspected visually and by smell if they need to be washed, if clean they get worn until they are actually dirty.
- We developed a dish washing in the sink system that uses one side for soapy water and the other for soaped dishes, then rinsed when second side is full. This uses less than 5 gallons of water. I used to be that lady that just ran the hot water and washed and rinsed in the constant stream, individually soaping each dish with a new squirt of Dawn. Smacks my head.
- Kids share bath water. Bath only when absolutely needed for chaos clean up or hygiene.
- No bleach.
- No bleach.
- No bleach. No bleach in laundry, no bleach in the kitchen sink, no bleach tabs in the toilet, no bleach. Also, no tea tree oil either. Anything that kills bacteria is a bad, stupid, ignorant idea. No, anything. Norwex is pretty awesome though.
- Septic tank feeder bacteria, can be flushed into the tank every so many months. No one told us about this when we moved out here. It isn't something I found on any blog or homesteading info site. So, now you know.
- Water ran to heat up the hot? Can be caught in a pitcher and used to water house plants or fill a stock pot.
- Oh, and no bleach. For the love of all things flushable and functioning I will never use bleach again. #Citygirl. Well, in my own machine. I may take those diapers to a laundermat.
So, a little exploring around my cleaning supplies revealed this: even bleach SAYS it is septic safe. Go ahead, believe the lies. I did. I lived to tell about it, so may you.
 |
| LIES. |
A Tale of Woe and Poop
Last year, when winter first started, we had a major emergency at the farm house.
The sewer line backed up, a solid unmoving clog, down the septic line. When we first moved in, something similar had happened and the basement flooded then froze and could not be addressed until it unfroze. Now we know what to look for, what to smell for, what to do before it floods. Trust me when I say we take it seriously.
This dedication paid off- we caught it before the water met the spill line of the drain. So there was that. However, fixing the problem was more complicated. Sometimes we can flush a septic tab and all is well, sometimes pushing water all at once works, sometimes we have to rent the big snaker thing from the local hardware store.
None of those worked. I started calling Roto Rooter folks. Suddenly I was 15 phone calls in and this dawning horror of a suspicion descended......our county seemed to be off limits by contract, too far to drive, or xyz excuse for anyone in the septic or plumbing business to service. 30 calls in, I began to realise that my suspicion was in fact true.
I am not kidding.
At that point we were two days in of not being able to do dishes or laundry, including cloth diapers. Bathing was out of the question. Chad was showering while standing in a bucket bin thing and dumping it outside in the morning. We could flush each toilet exactly two times each day and the water level stayed safely not flooding.
On day two, it was an inconvenience. Until Holly started throwing up.
Day four my hair started turning grey and falling out and I was sobbing near constantly. Sounds dramatic?
Of all the tragic, horrific, unbearable things that have happened to me in my life time......day six of this septic issue was the one thing that stood a chance at murdering my resilience and breaking me. I have had three children cut from my body in emergency C-Sections, one without proper anaesthesia. Survived a septic blood infection from a ruptured appendix coupled with custodial neglect as a child. Survived.
Let me tell you that I am not kidding when I say that this particular situation was so much worse. On day six the pipes froze and other things started that only my female friends can understand the horror of the timing of.
Like every other crisis in my life, when I reached that breaking point, unshowered and broken, I rallied. That's just in my blood. I needed someone to come out and fix this, or tell ME how to do it myself.I think I may have made a few vaguebook posts about sledge hammers and or power augers. I actually rented the power auger. The biggest one. I hauled it home in the back of my Volvo station wagon.
It didn't work.
I drew on the resources of a small town.
For those who don't know, the hardware stores are the social hub of folks who farm, fix, and know things. I called all three and asked for them to tell me who they would recommend (they sell folks the supplies, so they should know!) and the second question, who might know where the friggin septic tank was located. You see, the location of the tank and not just the type, was crucial and several folks I had already called said I needed to verify this before they would drive a pump truck out.
One and only one name was given to me. That one happened to be one I had already called, left a message on their machine, and six days later had not heard back from. I, of course called them again, but I also started calling local construction companies. It may or may not have been in my head that bulldozing the entire house to rubble was my only option.....and those who know my deep love for this farmhouse will know the depth of the horror we were at that point ankle deep in.
My next step was to go down to the local Hyvee at lunch time and stand near the buffet and ask really loudly if anyone knew anything about the Wells Pond Farmhouse Septic tank location. Folks down here cannot contain themselves when they have special knowledge and I knew that if anyone knew? They would tell me or find someone who would. It would be the social event of the day. We did not get to that point, however. I will keep it as a potential strategy of desperation if I ever need it.
Lucky for me Mr. Only Guy in Lucas County Allowed to Do Septic work finally called me back, perhaps due to social pressure? I don't know. That same day Chad rigged up hoses to drain grey water from the washing machines into rubbermaid bins and then out the second floor window and downhill to the ditch. Bonus, the same hoses could be used to drain the bathtub. We had switched to paper plates and Chad washing pots in a bucket too.
I was super excited to find out that this same guy installed the tank....30 years ago. Excited because 1)not the original 1900 system! and 2)HE KNEW THE LOCATION.
My panic washed away and drained to the road, I was more clearheaded. Mr. Septic Guy said he'd be right out.
Five days later? Still not at our farm. I called and asked when I might expect someone, anyone?
* FYI I survived those next five days because once we had the grey water situation figured out, normality and even a sense of purposeful adventure set in. Plus, I threw away the set of sheets that was vomited on, and could finally wash all the other bedding and towels.
The septic company secretary, when she called me back, sympathized and said she would send a sub contractor. Then she added something I only wish I could leave out, but for purposes of making this account accurate I cannot.....It is probably just rats in the drain, honey. That used to happen there, it is an easy fix if we can reach the nest.
Let me summarise what she said, just so you can understand the horror. Rats. Plural. In the drain that goes into my house and has open access in my basement while we monitor water levels. Rats. NEST OF RATS.
(to be continued)
(Oh yes, I did.)
The sewer line backed up, a solid unmoving clog, down the septic line. When we first moved in, something similar had happened and the basement flooded then froze and could not be addressed until it unfroze. Now we know what to look for, what to smell for, what to do before it floods. Trust me when I say we take it seriously.
This dedication paid off- we caught it before the water met the spill line of the drain. So there was that. However, fixing the problem was more complicated. Sometimes we can flush a septic tab and all is well, sometimes pushing water all at once works, sometimes we have to rent the big snaker thing from the local hardware store.
None of those worked. I started calling Roto Rooter folks. Suddenly I was 15 phone calls in and this dawning horror of a suspicion descended......our county seemed to be off limits by contract, too far to drive, or xyz excuse for anyone in the septic or plumbing business to service. 30 calls in, I began to realise that my suspicion was in fact true.
I am not kidding.
At that point we were two days in of not being able to do dishes or laundry, including cloth diapers. Bathing was out of the question. Chad was showering while standing in a bucket bin thing and dumping it outside in the morning. We could flush each toilet exactly two times each day and the water level stayed safely not flooding.
On day two, it was an inconvenience. Until Holly started throwing up.
Day four my hair started turning grey and falling out and I was sobbing near constantly. Sounds dramatic?
Of all the tragic, horrific, unbearable things that have happened to me in my life time......day six of this septic issue was the one thing that stood a chance at murdering my resilience and breaking me. I have had three children cut from my body in emergency C-Sections, one without proper anaesthesia. Survived a septic blood infection from a ruptured appendix coupled with custodial neglect as a child. Survived.
Let me tell you that I am not kidding when I say that this particular situation was so much worse. On day six the pipes froze and other things started that only my female friends can understand the horror of the timing of.
Like every other crisis in my life, when I reached that breaking point, unshowered and broken, I rallied. That's just in my blood. I needed someone to come out and fix this, or tell ME how to do it myself.I think I may have made a few vaguebook posts about sledge hammers and or power augers. I actually rented the power auger. The biggest one. I hauled it home in the back of my Volvo station wagon.
It didn't work.
I drew on the resources of a small town.
For those who don't know, the hardware stores are the social hub of folks who farm, fix, and know things. I called all three and asked for them to tell me who they would recommend (they sell folks the supplies, so they should know!) and the second question, who might know where the friggin septic tank was located. You see, the location of the tank and not just the type, was crucial and several folks I had already called said I needed to verify this before they would drive a pump truck out.
One and only one name was given to me. That one happened to be one I had already called, left a message on their machine, and six days later had not heard back from. I, of course called them again, but I also started calling local construction companies. It may or may not have been in my head that bulldozing the entire house to rubble was my only option.....and those who know my deep love for this farmhouse will know the depth of the horror we were at that point ankle deep in.
My next step was to go down to the local Hyvee at lunch time and stand near the buffet and ask really loudly if anyone knew anything about the Wells Pond Farmhouse Septic tank location. Folks down here cannot contain themselves when they have special knowledge and I knew that if anyone knew? They would tell me or find someone who would. It would be the social event of the day. We did not get to that point, however. I will keep it as a potential strategy of desperation if I ever need it.
Lucky for me Mr. Only Guy in Lucas County Allowed to Do Septic work finally called me back, perhaps due to social pressure? I don't know. That same day Chad rigged up hoses to drain grey water from the washing machines into rubbermaid bins and then out the second floor window and downhill to the ditch. Bonus, the same hoses could be used to drain the bathtub. We had switched to paper plates and Chad washing pots in a bucket too.
I was super excited to find out that this same guy installed the tank....30 years ago. Excited because 1)not the original 1900 system! and 2)HE KNEW THE LOCATION.
My panic washed away and drained to the road, I was more clearheaded. Mr. Septic Guy said he'd be right out.
Five days later? Still not at our farm. I called and asked when I might expect someone, anyone?
* FYI I survived those next five days because once we had the grey water situation figured out, normality and even a sense of purposeful adventure set in. Plus, I threw away the set of sheets that was vomited on, and could finally wash all the other bedding and towels.
The septic company secretary, when she called me back, sympathized and said she would send a sub contractor. Then she added something I only wish I could leave out, but for purposes of making this account accurate I cannot.....It is probably just rats in the drain, honey. That used to happen there, it is an easy fix if we can reach the nest.
Let me summarise what she said, just so you can understand the horror. Rats. Plural. In the drain that goes into my house and has open access in my basement while we monitor water levels. Rats. NEST OF RATS.
(to be continued)
(Oh yes, I did.)
Saturday 1 February 2014
February 1st
This month is going to be crazy beautiful amazing and busy. February always is intense, being the "Hungry Moon" when we see a peak in coyote predation and injuries, a series of severe ice and snow storms, high winds, and ice damage, and usually illness strikes our home in some form.
Usually. Let's not this year. Coyotes will now have to contend with a mature Pyrenees livestock guardian dog. We can deal with whatever weather Iowa can throw at us. Illness can wait. I can only pray that it can hold off until I return from the East Coast, though I know the stress of my absence. will lower the children's immune function, we can only hold the line with healthy food, good sleep, and good hygiene.
Maple season is just around the corner and we will be drunk on sap and sugaring. The steam from the boil will stiffen our pores and hair and clothes and be the sweetness of our song. That heralds Spring for us.
I have several things I am writing about, soon to polish up and publish here and some to publish there. Things that I am excited about, proud of, and writing for pure joy of playing with words and landscapes.
I am grateful for friends and family. Especially the cheering section that greets me daily with encouragement and kindness. I am also grateful for something called a Megabus. More on that in a bit.
So into February we adventure on. February we stand in the lingering darkness of winter, dreaming of sunshine and green things. We let the memories of soft rains and gentle green things pushing up lullaby us to sleep while the wind still howls and fiercely bites, knowing that warmth and strawberries and picnics and playing outside all day until we are muddy and exhausted and happy are on the way, waiting for us, waiting for the earth to turn once again into this season.
Cheers and good times, y'all!
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