Imagine with me, if you would... this:

*2006 post*

(This story will be told from the perspective of a Mother.)

It's Monday. It is also Laundry Day. Much sorting, loading, and folding is going on throughout the morning. Note here, as this is crucial information for our story: the laundry room is not on the main floor of the house. It resides in the finished basement.

Children are happily helping. You've also made a new schedule, and placed an online order that includes some Christmas gifts. All in all it's been a productive morning!

Naptime comes, and everyone goes down well.

Everyone wakes up well rested, and shortly afterwards daddy is home from work. Daddy and the two older children head outside to work on an outside project, while Mama and the littlest one (16 months) remain inside to work on dinner.

Mama remembers that a load needs to be switched downstairs, so there is a moment of decision. Does she leave her son playing happily on the kitchen floor while she runs downstairs to switch a load, or does she take him with her? (Knowing full well that when said 16 month old realizes that mommy has exited, there will be much fussing and wishing he had been taken along.) Decision is made. It will just take a minute...

Mama hops over the gate and runs downstairs. Pulls load out of the washing machine. Hears realization hit upstairs. Son is now crying and whining at the gate at the top of the stairs. Downstairs, there is the effort to hurry. A shirt coming out of the washing machine is still very dirty. Lest the stain set, she decides to spray it and soak it. Turns to the sink that sits between washer and dryer, tosses shirt in, turns the faucet on to fill the sink with water. Meanwhile, son is getting very crabby upstairs. Mama calls out to him, "Mama's coming, just a second..."

Everything is in the dryer. Another moment of decision: does she dare begin another load of wash? She does. Throws in final load for the day, runs upstairs.

Mama and now-happy son make dinner together. Once dinner is in the oven, they head outside to check on the work. A bit later dinner is served. Children and daddy head outside again after dinner for more work on the fence. Mama remains in the kitchen, cleaning up. Kitchen cleaned, children are still happily playing outside. Mama begins peeling the last of the apples.

Dirty children begin appearing at the back door. Mama glances at the clock. Yep. Bedtime. But baths first. So, all three children are hustled into the bathtub. Clean children come out of the tub. They wait bundled in towels while Mama runs downstairs to find pajamas.

As she's running down the stairs she hears water running. Water running? Oh. Daddy (who has still been outside, working) must be down here at the sink. Reaches bottom of the stairs. No. No daddy noises. Just running water. Steps off bottom step, peers around into the laundry room. Eyes widen. Gasp is audible. There is an immediate pit in the bottom of Mama's stomach.

At this point, you could scan further up in our story to the part where Mama turned on the faucet to soak the dirty shirt, but this Mama will save you the time. Faucet was turned ON, faucet was never turned OFF. Faucet has been running since dinner-making time, which was 4:00. At this point in our story (Mama standing at the bottom of the stairs staring with horror at the water pouring over the rim of the sink. And at the carpeted floor, which is clearly saturated with water) a glance at the clock would indicate that it is now close to 9:00. That's five hours. Five.

Mama sloshes (and I do mean this in every sense of the word; boots would have been very helpful at this point) across the laundry room floor to turn the faucet off. (Novel idea, doncha' think? One that would have perhaps come in handy five hours earlier?)

Then after briefly surveying the damage, she runs upstairs to tell her man. This hard-working man who worked a full day, and THEN came home and has been working hard outside ever since. Her husband who surely would like to come in, take a hot shower and rest at this point. This 9:00 hour of the day.

After initial alarm at this, from his wife: "Honey, I've done something so terrible", he comes in to survey the damage for himself. He- sweet man that he is- keeps saying, "It's okay. Really, honey. This is okay." He even makes a joke. And not one at the expense of his wife.

She heads upstairs to get those children (now shivering in their towels!) dressed. And picks up the phone to call her mother, to say, "Will you even believe what just happened?" Then she makes some calls to see if there is any place open at 9:30pm that rents wet-dry vacuums. No place she calls has those. She makes 2 other phone calls, to family members- asking if they have or know of anyone who has- some item to help us get the water out of this carpet. Leaves messages, no one is home.

Nearing 10:00, children tucked into beds, Mama thinks to call some friends from church. Maybe they have something. And they do. They own a steam vacuum that they think will do just fine. Heavy sigh of relief.

Husband goes to pick up said vacuum. Husband spends the next several hours vacuuming. Wife is back to peeling apples, and checking in occasionally to say "Thank you" or "I'm so sorry".

Husband and wife wearily head to bed a little before 2 am. Carpet is drying.

Still.