At the Moment

When it Rains, it Pours

Yes I know, that title is totally cliché, but it works. Because it’s true.

If the shoe fits …

Oh look, another well-worn cliché.

Springfield received five inches of rain in less than 24 hours. To say we are saturated would be saying dogs eat their own poop. It’s pretty stinkin’ obvious (get it? Stinkin’? Hehe).


It was a challenge to pick the boys up yesterday. They have to walk along side the road until they reach the tennis courts, and then cross the street to meet me. Only when it rains, water builds up by the side of the road (think river wide) and when the cars drive past, they inevitably splash water up on the kids walking on the sidewalk.

Some do it accidentally, some do it on purpose because let’s be honest, some kids are rotten and think it’s funny to drench these poor kids trying to walk home in pouring rain.

In order to protect my kids, I drove up onto the curb alongside this road and waited for them to come out. And even though it wasn’t that long of a distance to walk and they were both using umbrellas (which is saying a lot because HELLO! Teenage boys and umbrellas – not cool. But it was truly coming down), they still got quite wet.

But whatever, it’s water, right? They won’t melt.

At any rate, it was sort of hairy picking them up because traffic was horrendous and slow moving and I was parked on the side of the street that isn’t really accomodated to allow cars to park, so I had to hold my breath each and every time someone passed me in the hopes they didn’t rip out my side mirror.

But again, whatever, that’s a small price to pay to protect my babies. Right parents?

By the time dinner rolled around, our yard was flooded and the huge drainage hole across the street was close to over flowing. Kevin and I were watching “The Mentalist” (he loves that show – me? Meh), when we heard this gurgling under the house.

Uh oh.

So, went to our pantry (because my clever husband made an entrance to the crawl space through our pantry as opposed to having to go outside and through that way), and opened up the hatch.

Water. A lot of water.

Kevin grabbed a flashlight, got down on his belly and stuck his head in the hold to see what was going on.

A pipe had come loose on the sump pump and water was spewing everywhere – think geyser spewing.

So, the man donned his swim trunks, an old t-shirt, his old lawn mowing shoes, grabbed his tools and lowered himself into the cold, murky, wet depths below. The water came up to his ankles – there was about 8 inches of standing water.


The man, half bent over and half crawling, pushed his way over to the sump pump. He worked on tightening the clamp and putting the thing back together. In the meantime, I’m fretting and laying down 30 old towels because I know he’s going to be oozing mud when he returns.

He finishes the job and lifts himself out of the hole. After making sure he’s not tracking half of Missouri across my carpet, we turn the pump back on and head outside to see if water is indeed spewing from the exit pipe.

It’s not only spewing, it’s GUSHING! That sump pump is really awesome.

Kevin stays in his swim trunks, just to make sure everything is on the up and up and I lay down some towels on the couch so he doesn’t turn my red couch into a rust color and we resume watching “The Mentalist.”

Because I worry, I got up to check on the water gushing from the pipe progress.

Only, there’s no gushing going on.


I tell Kevin, we turn off the pump and he again sticks his head down into the hole to see what’s up.

The bucket that he put the sump pump in is floating on top of the water. To give you a little perspective … the sump pump works quite similar to the floating ball in a toilet. When the water reaches a certain level and the floating ball reaches a certain level, the sump pump turns on and it pumps out the water, when the water recedes and the floating ball lowers, it shuts off.

But the pump (and the brick he had put into the bucket to hold it down) wasn’t enough weight to keep the bucket down into the hole, so the pump had shut off and we still have lake Springfield under our house.

So, once again, Kevin wraps up his flashlight and drill in a plastic bag and he goes under the house to drill holes in the bucket so surrounding water would get into the bucket, it would fill and yadda yadda yadda.

Again, it worked and water gushed out.

But when it stopped (because yes, I once again checked – I told you guys I was anal about stuff like this ), it didn’t have anything to do with the sump pump, but with the fact that there are grooves worn into our dirt floor and water was trapped in those grooves and not draining toward the sump pump. So Kevin plans on going back under the house this weekend to level out those grooves so the remaining water will drain.

There’s not much water left, but enough to cause health problems if we leave it alone.

So … it was a rather unpleasant night last night (especially for Kevin!). But I thank GOD that I’m married to a man who thinks about things like this because if Kevin hadn’t put that sump pump in, we’d have woken up to about two feet of water under our house and though we have a pretty big crawl space by comparison, it’s not deep enough to hold that much water.

Have you guys seen that commercial for FEMA flood insurance? Where the people are going about their business and totally ignoring the fact that their house is filling up with water?

I had dreams about that happening to us last night. Not fun.