Last week we were once again without power for over 24 hours, and it got me thinking about when we began to lose power in the camper.
People ask me all the time “Wait, don’t you still have a generator?”
The answer is “no, we don’t. It died that winter, almost taking us with it!”
Late but here it is:
Excerpt from Six Kids, Four Months and One Camper
****Our doublewide had just been delivered*****
The kids had come back from school and since all of them were with us Erik decided to give them the tour. I went into the camper with Earen to prep dinner. It was a brats and hotdogs night. My options were a bit limited since I could only use the grill. Erik came back a few minutes later.
“The kids are busy fighting over sleeping arrangements.” Erik said as he walked back into the camper grinning mischievously.
“Oh yeah? Why am I not surprised!” I walked outside to light the grill. It took me a few tries then I came back. “Man that grill is a pain in the butt to light when it’s windy!”
Erik paid my comments no attention. “I called the guys earlier today for the plumbing and electric hook-ups and they will be out Monday. Monday morning I’ll call the township to come out and get approval for the work so I can get Consumer’s Energy to connect to the pole.”
“I thought you only needed a cement slab and septic?” I was confused.
“Yeah you do, but the township still has to approve your pole before you can let Consumer’s connect to it. We could begin moving into our house as early as Tuesday!” Erik’s grin widened into a full toothy smile, then he tackled me to the floor and wrestled me for a few minutes while I protested about needing to make dinner.
I wasn’t going to get my hopes up about the house.
I finally managed to get back outside with my plate of brats and dogs along with a winter jacket. It was starting to blow pretty good now, and I could see faint wisps of snow dancing across the cold-packed snow ground, swirling and leaping. I was quite sure the driveway would be drifted-over by tomorrow. I opened the grill and laid the food out evenly cross it. Then I stopped.
The fire was out.
That was strange. It was a new propane tank. I turned the nobs off and waited a few minutes to clear any gas, then turned them back on and tried to light them again. The lighter wouldn’t light. It would flame-up, then puff-out instantly. I looked at the side gauge, it was definitely full. I grumbled to myself and left the food while I went in for some matches. Good thing we had a huge box of them thanks to Randy!
I happily trotted back out with my box, pulled the grates off to one side, turned the nobs back on and struck the match.
It blew out instantly.
I frowned. I turned my back tighter to the wind and struck another match. This one flared to life, then blew out as well as soon as it got close to the grill.
So did the third and fourth and fifth.
I got smarter on my sixth. The fire pit behind me was filled with fresh newspaper from Erik’s tractor hunting. I grabbed a few sheets and twisted them into torches then lit them. They flamed to life eagerly, and I lit the gas burners on the grill. They roared into an eager line, but by the time I got to the next burner, the wind had blown the lit one out. I tried for 10 minutes, my eyes welling up with tears.
Why did everything crappy have to happen to me? Here I am, freezing my butt-off in single-digit temperatures trying to feed my family and I still get crap! It wasn’t fair! I was trying super hard to do this! My fingers were so numb I couldn’t hold a match anymore and even with two pairs of pants on, the wind was slicing right through them.
I gave-up and scooped the dogs and brats back onto my plate and slowly slunk back into the camper.
“I gotta cook this on the stove.” I announced woefully.
“No, you can’t, remember? You said you could cook stuff on the grill.” Erik didn’t look up from his Craigslist hunting.
“The fire keeps going-out. The lighter won’t work because it’s too cold, and the flames won’t stay lit on the grill. They keep blowing-out too!” I grabbed some toilet paper out of the bathroom and blew my nose.
“Aww, are woo cwying? Erik asked laughing and poking me in the ribs.
I glared at him, “My fingers are nearly frostbit! I’ve been outside with no gloves trying to get the fire lit!” I looked at the temperature gauge in the bedroom. “And it’s only five degrees out!”
Erik rolled his eyes, “oh, ok baby. I guess you can cook them in the microwave then.”
“What? You can’t cook brats in there.”
“Why not? You can cook hotdogs . . .”
“I don’t know, brats are different. They are raw meat. They will get tough and rubbery in there!”
“Well then I guess you’d better cook them carefully!”
The kids all ran back inside excitedly and out of breath.
“Eian pooped in the toilet!” Abby announced.
“Shut-up Abby! I did not! I found the poop!” Eian shoved her as they both struggled to rip their boots-off quickly.
Earen blinked rapidly in surprise as cold gusts of air blasted him from the slider as he sat on the ground with his toys. In his feverish attempt to run in to tell his story Eian nearly trampled baby Earen.
“Can’t you move him somewhere else?! He’s in my way!” Eian spat as he scowled at his baby brother sitting in front of the sofa.
He plopped down onto the sofa and draped his feet in Earen’s face. Earen began screaming and crying.
“Well then MOVE! I want to sit down! You don’t have to hog everything!” Eian began nudging him to the side with his foot which produced even louder howls from baby Earen.
“Eian! Knock it off dude! You don’t have to be so rude! Get your feet out of his face, he’s just a baby!” Abby yelled at him.
I was standing in the kitchen trying NOT to overcook the brats. I could feel the anger ticking at the back of my head hoping Abby would resolve the situation. I didn’t know if it was an older brother thing, or an Eian thing, but he had NO regard towards his brother at ALL. I decided it was best to keep my mouth shut and not say anything mean.
“What am I supposed to do Abby?! Crunch my legs up like this?” Eian tucked his knees up to his chin and raised his eyebrows at Abby. “Besides if I sit like this Dad will probably fart on me!”
Abby shook her head in wonder. “What? Why would Dad fart on you if you sat like that?”
At that exact moment, having been listening to the conversation and sitting beside Eain on the sofa, Erik farted and began laughing hysterically as both kids screamed and ran to their back bedrooms.
Nuriel and Brea walked inside, and the gust of single digit air knocked the scent of fart further back towards the kids’ room and more screams rippled out of the kids. Erik began laughing so hard he was snorting. Brea and Nuriel exchanged glances and gave me a quizzical look. I simply shrugged and shook my head.
“Did the kids tell you?” Brea asked as she kicked off her last boot.
“Something about poop was all I heard before the screaming began.” I replied, stopping the microwave to flip the brats over.
“Yeah! I guess Eian and Abby were looking around and Eian opened the toilet and there was a huge turd in there!”
“What?!” Erik sprang up suddenly. “Not uh! You guys are such liars! You know how I know? Because the moving people have to flush all the lines with winterizing liquid to keep the pipes from freezing!”
“No, Dad, I SAW it! It was so gross!”
“It was Eian’s!” Abby shrieked from the back bedroom and Eian tackled her down again.
“Was NOT!” He yelled back.
“Did it have chunks of corn in it Brea?” Erik asked gleefully.
“What? Eww! I don’t know! I didn’t stop to poke it! Dad you’re so gross – why couldn’t I have gotten a normal Dad?!” Brea wailed.
“Because I’m a cool Dad, not some boring fuddy-duddy!” Erik replied as he jumped up and began giving her a noogie.
“Wait!” I interrupted. “Those pipes have antifreeze stuff in them! Whoever pooped in the toilet could have damaged the pipes if they tried to flush the toilet! It’s not like a regular house!”
Erik stopped his assault on Brea. “Do you really think the movers took a crap in our toilet?”
I shrugged and opened a can of baked beans.
“Well it couldn’t have been Eian,” Erik continued. “He was with me the entire time I was over there, and when I left all the kids were arguing over bedrooms. He needs total privacy to poop . . .”
“And strip his clothes off!” Abby yelled and giggled from the bedroom.
“Shut-up Abby!” Eian shoved her and walked out of the bedroom and sat at the table. “When will dinner be ready? I’m starving!”
“In just about one minute,” I said, looking at the time on the microwave.
Everything went black.
“Daaad!” Shrieked Brea who was now in the back bedroom when the power went out.
The camper was black as night.
“What’s that beeping sound?” Abby asked, an edge of nervousness to her voice.
“Smoke detector,” I replied, expecting Erik to get up and go fix the generator since I was making dinner.
Erik didn’t budge.
“Dad! Aren’t you going to go fix the generator?!” Brea wailed from somewhere in the camper.
“Nope. I’ve been on my feet working all day, not sitting at home doing nothing like SOME people.” He replied off-handily.
“Well I have not been doing NOTHING all day, but I guess I’ll go fix the generator instead of making dinner . . .” I grumbled as I pulled-on my boots quick. I didn’t bother grabbing my coat since I knew I’d be back inside in a minute.
Typically when the generator blows, you flip the reset switch and start the girl back up again. I was pretty certain it wasn’t the gas. I double-checked it anyway though. Low, but not out. I added more to it to last us through the night and set the reset switch.
Nothing.
The single digit weather felt even colder. Maybe it was finally down into the negatives? I hadn’t checked before leaving but wished now that I had! My fingers were quickly going numb and I was shaking quite violently. I don’t mind the cold as long as I can dress for it, and in my haste I had not put on a jacket!
I tried restarting the generator again. It struggled and coughed and choked and died out again. I tried repeatedly to get it going, but it wasn’t. I knew if I went in to ask Erik for help he’d point out some dumb thing I had forgotten to do and I’d feel like an even bigger idiot for not remembering or thinking of that.
However, I was out of options, so I had to drag him out to help me.
“Move over and let a man get the job done,” Erik gave me a light push as he stooped down to look at the generator.
He tried again and again to restart it, but it coughed and choked and died each time. Finally, he pulled a plug out of the back. It looked like a tiny dipstick on a car.
“Did you check the oil?” He inquired, his question tinted with an edge of smart ass.
“Oil?!”
“Yeah, it takes oil. Just like a car. So I guess you haven’t been keeping an eye on it, have you? If you’re going to be running a machine, it’s your job to keep up on its maintenance.”
I gave him a furious look. “What?! You never said anything about the oil! How am I supposed to know about these things?!”
Erik shrugged smugly. “Maybe do your research online at the library. You don’t have anything to do all day anyway. Might as well spend it trying to learn about the machines you are using . . .”
I was too furious and dumbfounded by his comments to say anything except give him a soul-piercing glare with my eyes. Unfortunately it was too dark for him to see my stare.
“Go get me the yellow oil pan.”
“What? Where is it?”
“I don’t know where you put it! I need it though because this oil needs to be changed!” Erik thrust the dipstick in my face.
“Can’t we do it tomorrow when it’s daylight?” I asked hopefully.
“No! Not unless you want to freeze tonight! This won’t run in cold weather with thick oil. I think I’ve got some extra oil in Randy’s covered trailer. I’ll go look and grab a wrench, you get my oil pan.”
“Um, ok . . .” I still had no idea what this oil pan was, but I kinda had a picture in my head of something like he described. I had never changed the oil on anything, so how was I to know?
My teeth were chattering so violently by this time that I feared I’d break them off. I ran to the slider and begged the girls to throw me my coat and gloves in the bathroom closet. They grabbed them along with a hat (thanks!) and I threw everything on and began to feel a bit better.
I pawed around the round top with a flashlight trying to find this oil pan thing. A flash of yellow in the far part of the wall caught my eye. Oil pan! I think. . . I dragged it back to the generator. Erik followed behind me with a new container of oil and his ratchet set.
He had me hold the oil pan under it and set to work testing ratchet sizes. I glanced at the nut and told him it was a 7/16 size. He ignored me and continued testing all the sizes. I wasn’t skilled with tools, but I could see the size was a common one I had used over the years. I had been right, 7/16 was the only size that fit. He ratcheted the nut off and instantly thick, black goo came oozing out. It was hot and steam poured-up out of the oil pan. Erik began tipping the generator to facilitate faster movement. In 10 minutes we had it drained and re-filled. Erik made me restart it, and it roared to life. The lights flew back on in the camper and the kids all shrieked with delight.
I was thoroughly exhausted now. Earen was still only sleeping every 30 minutes at night lately, and 8:00pm was whooping my butt. The snow looked so fluffy and comfy. Maybe just a quick nap here. I could roll around and pad up a small area and tuck myself in. I was warm and toasty. Just a quick little nap in the soft, cozy snow . . .
Earen’s crying broke my thoughts, and I wearily trudged back to the camper to finish making dinner.
The brats came out tough and rubbery.