The Day Mom Plugged the Toilet

I checked my phone to see if I had any juicy messages that couldn’t wait; but there was nothing more interesting than what was going on downstairs. Mom was in the middle of barricading the door of our small bathroom with yellow and black hazard tape. Sweat was building on her forehead and upper lip. “A little early for Hallowe’en, isn’t it Mom,” I remarked. “Ha ha; more like I plugged the toilet,” was her reply. “Why don’t you call a plumber,” I asked. “Most plumbers don’t work weekends, and if you are lucky enough to find one; they’re going to charge you an arm and a leg.” I always thought that was a weird way of saying, “lots of money.” I mean, who would ever cut off their arm or their leg to pay for fixing a broken toilet.

“I’m giving up,” (which didn’t sound like Mom at all), “and waiting for Dad.” “Maybe something got stuck in it. Do you want me to take a look,” was my attempt at helping. Mom sprang up from the stool she was sitting on and stood guard in front of the door, like her life depended on it. “Don’t go in there; the toilet is a complete mess.” “What do you mean,” I asked. “Well, it looks like a diaper full of poo, except without the diaper,” Mom explained. “Oooh, that sounds disgusting,” I replied.

“I bet I know what happened,” I proposed: I bet Coleman dropped his phone in the toilet.” Mom and Dad really folded like a cheap suitcase with Cole: giving him the phone of his dreams when he was only in grade five. I didn’t get my phone till grade seven, and then I had to ask for it as a graduation present. And Nate, he got the worst deal of all: first year university, if you can believe it.

“I highly doubt that,” Mom replied. “He guards that phone with his life.” “But I have seen him take his phone into the bathroom,” I corrected her. Wouldn’t that be funny, I thought: One of Coleman’s precious friends phoning him, and all they hear on the other end is the swooshing sound of a flushing toilet. Mom muttered something, but I thought it best not to ask for clarification.

“Jen, why don’t you make yourself some breakfast,” Mom hinted. That was my signal to get lost. I grabbed a couple of handfuls of Lucky Charms from the cereal box, trying to pick out as many colored one as I could without looking like that was what I was doing, and sprinkled some milk on top.

I was about to start eating, when a massive stink bomb lit the air. For some reason, Mom took down the tape and opened the bathroom door; probably to give her plunger one more try. I watched my precious Lucky Charms turn into nuggets of poo right before my very eyes. I kept telling myself, it was just my imagination, but it was too late to change the picture in my mind. I quietly got up from my chair and poured my breakfast into the sink. One flick of the garburator switch and it was gone.

Mom gave up after that. Nothing more happened in the small bathroom until Coleman and Dad came home from soccer. Then it was show time: “What in the world is going on here”? Dad demanded. I noticed Coleman’s face turning a lighter shade of pale. “I’m so sorry,” he confessed. “I plugged the toilet this morning and forgot to tell you.” “Hold on,” Mom said in a bewildered voice. “You plugged the toilet; I thought I plugged the toilet,” repeated Mom.

“Looks like we have a plug on top of a plug,” Dad announced. “That’s a double plugger,” I chirped in. I didn’t want Dad to stuff his lunch down the sink like I did, so I took the liberty of warning him: “Whatever you do Dad, don’t look at it before you eat. Mom says it looks like the inside of a baby’s diaper, except without the diaper.” “Lovely,” Dad replied. “In that case, why don’t you and me work on it later,” Dad suggested, as he turned towards Mom. “Later, what’s later?” I knew this wasn’t the news Mom wanted to hear: she’d already been fighting with the toilet for a couple of hours, and wanted it fixed tout de suite. “I don’t know, later; do I have to give you an exact time,” Dad asked. I could tell Mom was losing it. “Look, I don’t know about you, but sooner is better than later as far as I’m concerned.” “Fine then, would it be okay if I ate my lunch first.” I could tell Dad was in no mood either. “By all means,” Mom said in a calmer tone.

“Can I go to my room and do my homework,” Coleman asked meekly. I knew exactly what that meant: computer games. I came to the conclusion if Coleman actually did his homework every time he said he was doing his homework, he would be a straight A student, and he was far from it.

Just as Mom called Dad down for lunch my older brother Nate walked in the door. He’d spent the night at his friend’s place. “Hey, what’s with the police tape?” he asked. I answered first, “Mom and Cole each did a whammy in the toilet, and now it doesn’t work.” “Wait, when did this happen”? Nate looked confused. “Cause I dropped a load last night, just before I went out. Come to think of it, the toilet did make a funny choking sound, but it still went through.” “That choking sound means the toilet is plugged,” Mom was raising her voice. “Why didn’t you tell somebody?” Dad was getting mad too. “I would’ve, but Leyland was already waiting for me, and I didn’t want to be rude,” Nate explained.

“Wow, I’ve never heard of a triple plugger before. Do you think that qualifies for a world record Dad?” I asked. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it. I’m a little tired and could use a nap. Call me if you need a hand,” Nate’s voice trailed off as he made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. We all knew what that meant. “Can you guys stop talking long enough about the toilet, so I can eat my lunch?” Dad insisted. I probably didn’t need to, but I did anyway, give Dad: “Don’t forget what I told you about not looking at the poo before you eat.”

Mom took the tape down the second Dad finished eating, but they didn’t start working on the toilet until sometime later. Dad apparently had something urgent to do upstairs. It was not unusual for him to disappear for long stretches of time upstairs, “talking to Bob, his computer,” as Mom liked to put it. It was exactly 3:00 PM when Dad went out to the shed and came back into the house carrying his secret weapon, the auger. It looked like a mini fishing rod, only instead of fishing line it had a metal coil coming out of the end of it.

“Better let me go first,” it was always like Mom to take the first bullet in matters like these. Knowing what was about to happen, I ran upstairs. I could hear Dad: “Uggh, get the air freshener.” “I think we ran out; I was looking for it earlier,” Mom answered. It was me that came up with the perfect solution. “Here,” I announced, as I handed Dad Mom’s favorite, made in Italy perfume. “You’re a genius,” Dad said. “Yah, what a great idea,” Mom said solemnly, as she listened to Dad spraying away.

I sat on the stool outside the bathroom waiting for the freedom flush, but it never happened. I wanted to be part of the celebration, the sense of relief and happiness Mom and Dad would feel once the toilet finally flushed. But it was taking a long time, the longest I could ever remember. I saw Mom and Dad peering down into the toilet bowl. Dad was cranking the handle on one end, while Mom was positioning the bottom end of the auger in the toilet. They were trying to find the sweet spot that would let the coil snake up the gooseneck and break up the poo that was stuck there.

I could hear Dad: “No, not there.” “Hold the bottom steady, while I crank.” Then there was, “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this design; I knew it was a bad idea.” Mom was not without words either: “I think this is it. No, I guess not.” How much longer do you think this will take? I have to start dinner soon.” “I knew we should’ve started right away.”

It was 6:00 PM sharp when I heard the Royal Flush. “Hallelujah,” Dad yelped. “Thank God,” Mom said next. I thought it was strange, they both used words from the bible to talk about a plugged toilet. I wondered if the minister at the church I went to for preschool would approve.

The next job was to get the pooey auger out of the house. After a five-minute brain-storming session, Dad decided to stuff the auger in a black plastic bag, and hose it down outside. Mom, for her part, put on the longest rubber gloves she could find and cleaned the toilet, not once, but three times; which, I thought was a bit obsessive, but given the circumstances, maybe not. Before everything was back to normal, it was already 6:45.

It was as if Coleman and Nate had been quietly waiting in the wings for their cue to appear on stage, that moment when there was absolutely nothing left for them to do. “Do you guys need a hand?” Nate asked, like he really meant it. “No, not anymore son,” Dad replied.

“What’s for dinner then?” they both chimed in at the same time. “Good question,” Mom answered. “How about we order Chinese food”? Dad suggested. “Sounds great,” Nate replied; “but isn’t that what we had the day before the three of us plugged the toilet”? “I feel like pizza,” Coleman said smiling and tossing his basketball cap in the air like a disc of raw pizza dough. “Yah sure,” Mom answered for the five of us. After a day like this, I knew Mom wouldn’t put up a fight.

by Jenavieve