Also Known As, “The Day I Flooded the Laundry Room and Broke My Husband’s Toe”
I’ve always been easily distractible, but being the mom of a 27-month old and a 2-week old bumped me into a whole new level of distractible. I call it “momnesia.” I think I took for granted how good I’m feeling: getting decent sleep at night for having a newborn, not in pain or feeling too uncomfortable, and generally in good spirits (contrasting birth and postpartum stories to come). The newborn is so chill and besides some (understandable) jealousy, my toddler is the same amount of work as before.
I put the toddler down for a nap, and went to start a load of laundry. After I started the washer, I wanted to do a bleach soak in our utility sink in the laundry room, so I plugged the sink drain and started the water. Then I left the laundry room and went to the bathroom, folded clothes in our bedroom, talked to my husband for a bit… Who knows how much time went by — 20, 30 minutes? I felt tired and thought, “maybe I’ll take a bath and lay down.” I went into my bathroom to start the water and noticed it was already warm…”gee…normally it has to run for a while before it comes out warm…OH MY GOSH, THE LAUNDRY ROOM SIIIIIIIIIIINK!”
I’ve never run so fast in my entire life. I slammed my arm into the wall as I ran into the laundry room which was, no lie, full of 2 inches of water, with the sink overflowing like a waterfall. (I so wish I would’ve taken a picture.) In some order I cussed, turned off the faucet, plunged elbow deep into the sink to pull the stopper, and ran around for every towel I could carry.
After my second towel load, it occurred to me that I wasn’t going to be able to handle this myself. I ran, wet feet and all, through the house to find my husband, yelled for him out the back door (I don’t actually know where he was, except that I just kept yelling his name and saying “help! I flooded the laundry room!”) I must’ve run back upstairs without waiting for his response, and a few minutes later he came panting and grimacing into the laundry room with the rest of our towels. I assumed it was because he was frustrated at my snafu (I mean, hello, I sure was!) He asked me, exasperated, “how did this happen?” To which I replied, “because I’m an idiot!”
A few minutes later it was all cleaned up, and all the wet towels, rugs, and laundry were piled on the countertop and draining into the giant sink. My heart rate slowed down enough that I could think clearly. I silently prayed while I looked for any water damage. I took inventory of the downstairs level: dining room ceiling, dry. Bathroom ceiling, dry. Kitchen ceiling, dry. Whew.
I found my husband laying on the couch in the living room with his hand over his face. I asked how long it takes to see water in the ceiling when your room is full of that kind of water, and he just sighed “I think I broke my toe.”
Imagine me with that wide-eyed emoji face. “You what?”
“I think I broke my toe. I hit it on the doorframe when I was running to grab towels. Can you get me some ice?” Ice. Bag. Paper towel. Timid smile…
“Here.” Long pause. “I’m SO sorry.”
And, from my super patient, gracious husband: “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Accidents happen. My toe just hurts.” Later, after lots of ice and Motrin, we talked about a water alarm (so that it doesn’t happen again), and the fact that even though I’m feeling good physically and emotionally, I’m still easily distracted. Now as a mom of two, I have the potential for even more distractions. Perhaps multitasking will never be my forte.
I haven’t been back in the laundry room in 2 days — I’m a bit gun shy now.
Did I learn my lesson from this? I hope so. I’m not exactly sure what takeaways I have yet except for embarrassment and frustration.
Have you done anything like this? Any other moms of littles out there find any ways to combat the momnesia? What are your secrets? I can’t get out of doing laundry forever!
