It's 9:25 on a Saturday night. Daughter #3, youngest daughter calls her mom, me, to engage me in a drama involving the toilet.
Now, we all know, that when there is literally one and only one toilet to go around in the house, one place to "go," and basically, living on the edge here with only one toilet, we got a problem here when your baby calls with a toilet emergency.
Here we go. "Two pieces of the toilet broke off, mom!" "What two pieces, I ask, hesitantly, knowing this is going in a very bad direction. Whereby, she attempts to describe the two pieces inside the guts of the toilet and the plastic thingie that is like the chain but it's not a chain and a plastic stick and it's broken...and some other piece is broken..."Do I need to call a plumber?!"
"No," I say. "Don't call a plumber." "Where is Scott?" (her live in boy friend, 14 years her senior and a guy, for goodness sake!)
"He's at band practice." Silence ensues.
"Can't Scott fix it when he comes home?" Wrong.
She pursues several questions about how to fix the toilet without a plumber; going to the local hardware store and asking someone how to fix it, etc...
"Can't Scott's landlord fix this?" "There is no landlord, mom." "We are subletting this apartment and cannot call the landlord since we are not technically here and the landlord can't know that the real tennants left four years ago and just, NO!"
"OK," "I understand. (Like hell, I understand).
Back to the obvious question: "When Scott comes home, can't he take a look at the broken toilet, get the replacement parts at the hardware store tomorrow and fix the blasted toilet?"
"MOM! I'm essentially living with a girl!"
So now I get it. So I hand the phone over to my hubby to hear her out and come up with a solution to her problem. He, being the quintesenntial step-dad, simply says, "Maybe your dad can help you!" "But if you need anything, I am here." Yeah, like here is almost 4 hours away by car, going 65-70 miles an hour and there ain't no way over Labor Day weekend, anyone is going to drop anything to go replace the guts of your toilet!
It would be easier to suggest thay she and band boy just go stay at our house where there are 3 full baths to choose from and deal with the problem after the holiday weekend. Right? Not so much. She wants an instant, presto chango solution to her toilet problemo, like right the f--k now!
My very calming, understanding hubby hands the phone back to me, whereupon there is a distinct dial tone at the other end of the line.
Guess we didn't solve her problem. Wonder who she will call next?
Last thing I remember her asking me was, "How much does it cost to call a plumber?"
The next call I get from my baby daughter will be something like...
"Mom, I had no other choice but to call the plumber (after hours on a national holiday weekend) and it cost over $300 to fix the toilet!!! I can't believe it cost so much, mom! I had to overdraw my bank account by over $200 and I am so sorry, mom, but can you please help me?!"
Counting to 10, breathing shallowly, swallowing my harshest tough love thoughts that dissolve into mush...I mumble...
"OK."
"I'm not happy about this, JJ, cause your landlord is really the one who should be fixing this and figuring this out, but...yeah, I will help you "this time." "Maybe he will reimburse you, or you and Scott could deduct the plumbing repairs from your rent?"
No response.
No such luck.
Just when you think they have left the nest and are living on their own...
"The joys of parenthood."
No post about that tonight.
What's a mother to do?!
Don't answer that.
I may start spitting bullets!
Have a great Labor Day weekend! Here's hoping it goes without incident or any plumbing emergencies!
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That repair is soooo simple. But she can't possibly know that for a couple more decades.
In the interim, surely they have a friend who can fix this? Probably a FEMALE friend in the end (I'm kinda insulted by the "living with a girl" comment) It's a screwdriver, a trip to Lowe's, and 20 minutes!
Repeat after me ... tough love ... independence .... no helicoptering .... you can do anything you set your mind to ....
"A guy?!" my grandmother asked. "Why should you have to call a guy? Aren't you a guy?"
All of which is to say that gender doesn't fix the plumbing. ;-)
Stick the handle through the tank and screw the nut back on. Hook the chain up to the bar. Pay Mikey $150 for the advice.
Have a great weekend, Cathy!
Once I was out on my own, I didn't ask my folks for much (with 6 of us girls, there wasn't much to go around), BUT - when I was in my first apartment, I was very definitely struggling. I confessed to one of my sisters that I had to steal toilet paper from work one day because I couldn't afford it. And you know what? My mom found out and showed up unannounced at my flea-infested apartment with three bags of groceries. I guess she thought stealing TP was tough love by itself. :-)
When I hear stories of moms like you, it makes me smile. I'd like to think I'd give my two girls tough love...but I would break in two places, just like your daughter's toilet. (Geez....did I really just compare myself to a toilet??? It's only 6 a.m. here...I need coffee...)
Fun post, Cathy. You're a great mom, doll. :-)
[My mom was a generator mechanic in the army-she once kept our car going safely for two months by just going out every evening after work and plugging a big bar of ivory soap into the giant hole in the gas tank that she couldn't afford to replace :) Never throw away your 'twisties' folks-they're like ducttape's red headed stepbrother...]
Happy Labor Day, by the way Cathy I have some issues here at my house and could use a little help. THANKS!!
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Here's to a drama-free weekend for all! Happy Labor Day.
Next time (and it seems there will be one), tell your helpless chick to take all the broken parts to Home Depot or any hardware store... they will sell her what she needs and tell her how to fix it herself.
(Or, you never know, she might meet somebody there she likes better than Band Guy, who --bonus-- can fix things and has a real job. ;)
Cath, say this over and over to yourself: It's. Not. My. Problem. At least about toilets.
Cathy, forgot to ask...is she paying you back the extra $? If so, that might help her learn a lesson. K's son is having some adventures in adulthood like this (e.g., learning you don't go to the ER when all you need is antibiotics and you have a high deductible health plan) and the pain of paying so much money is the best teacher.
There was never a plumbing bill, to my knowledge, (imagined scenario) or she just isn't telling me. Fine by me.
Michael's advice was correct and it doesn't cost that much for the replacement part. It isn't that hard to fix either, it doesn't take a man to do it. Something we just have to figure out on our own how to fix it.
Have a great weekend.!!
HEY! Who's the grownup, here? This is the time in her life that you should be the holy terror!
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So, anyway, a long, long time ago we had a toilet that kept running into the tank. The exhole fixed it. Soon I heard it running again. I looked inside the tank and found that the Ph.D./engineer/professor's toilet repair technique used a small Playskool wooden block as the key part. In the way of wood in water the block had softened and the repair needed redoing. I realized I'd need to take natters into my own hands.
Off to the local hardware (exhole had not yet bought the Time-Life home repair series) where I read the package instructions on everything that looked like it belonged inside a toilet tank. Soon made a decision and took something or other to the cashier where the assembled local geezers asked about my problem and offered comments on my proposed solution. (I can't remember exactly what either the problem or the solution was but it was inside a toilet tank - how complicated could it have been?) The geezers' final comment: "You'll be back."
No. The repair took minutes. I didn't go back. The toilet was still working fine when we sold the house years later.
If I've told the kids once, I've told them a thousand times, do that. Read directions on the package, read a book, google.
#2 (1000 miles away) says, "He's not that kind of engineer, Mom," and does it herself. (Some day, when they've been married longer, we'll go into that "kind of engineer" thing in greater depth.) #1 (2000 miles) has a landlord. #3 (10 miles) is gradually the recipient of the Time-Life series, personal instruction and tools. Still raisin' 'em right well into multiple decades.
I won't tell her, Cathy.