How much biohazard is too much?

Soon after we moved into these apartments, I began noticing these weird little growths coming out of the window trim in our bedroom. I assumed they must be caused by an insect and tried not to worry about it. They grew. They are weird. They are in my bedroom. But, alas, this is where we can afford to live and Britt doesn't want to deal with the hassles of moving again. And truly, neither do I. So I ignored the little "wood boogers" and tried to go on as though nothing were growing out of the window sill in multiple places.



We came home from living in another state for two months only to find that the apartment had turned into one biohazard after another. Apparently it was a rainy summer, and the water was not draining away from the building properly, so it pooled in our wall and rotted the base board and apparently the whole lower half of the wall in general (it's hollow and moves when you touch it). A few days after we got here, this little gem appeared. Ava thought it was a squash and could hardly wrap her brain around why it was growing in the corner by her high chair and why we weren't eating it. Yeah, kid...mushrooms aren't supposed to grow inside.



Upon further inspection, I discovered that there must be some more water damage in the wall above our refrigerator, as the corner is sort of rotting out and peeling around the recently-installed (last summer) cabinetry. Strike three. Are we out? No. We had not only already signed another year-long lease, but we had also painted Ava's bedroom and our living room before we left for summer, rationalizing that I might feel better in this apartment if I could personalize it and make it feel like a home. Plus the moving hassles.



We notified the apartment maintenance people of our mushroom. They promptly sent a guy out to take a look at it. I believe his response was, "Well, I'll be." Yeah. Mushrooms aren't supposed to grow inside. He said they would come back to spray some bleach-like chemical on the area to prohibit further microbial growth. Great, so now my baby has been exposed to sheet rock dust last summer when the bathroom ceiling had to be replaced, no telling what kind of particulate in the air when they sawed through the ceiling several times last year for various management-mandated projects, paint fumes, noise during countless naps, and now fungus followed by a "bleach-like chemical spray" that should fix the fungal growth!!? Super. I pointed out the other problems too, and the guy told me they would schedule a time to come and let me know when to be gone from the apartment if I didn't want Ava to be exposed. (That's important.)

In true Squire Hill style (excuse me, Abbington Crossing...they changed the name this summer after the drowning...), we heard nothing from maintenance for about a week. Just when I was getting ready to call and complain, the new head guy passed by one day and stopped to ask me when they should come. They had been waiting for ME to call and tell them exactly when to come. WHAT!? That is NOT what the guy said, and Britt was my witness. So this time, I told the new head guy (Tom, the same guy who last year came to fix my dishwasher and purposely broke the rack to "fix" my problem, which he had already fixed 10 minutes earlier and I had told him I was satisfied...now it is rusty) that I am here all the time, so they need to schedule a time when I can count on them to come and then tell me so I can arrange to have the car that day and be gone while the work is done. No problem, ma'am, sorry for the confusion. Oh, and he also said I really wouldn't have to take Ava out of here, that the chemical spray is really not harmful, it just stinks. Oh, right. "Bleach-like chemical" is not harmful. Sure. Whatever.

In the meantime, more mushrooms arose.



And we found a horrible section of mold growing on our wall behind the dresser in our bedroom where we'd been storing some boxes (big mistake). We've been breathing this stuff in every night for at least nine months (minus summer) since the apartment flooded last December!! I was horrified.



In summation, it took them two "miscommunications" and almost two weeks to get here for the mushrooms. They sprayed their magic spray to make them go away and never return. A few days later they were invited back for the aforementioned mold in the bedroom to do the same. While they were at it, they plucked the little wood boogers with nary a word. And today, lo and behold, they were invited back yet again for a new mold patch recently discovered in our dining room.



The property manager was contacted directly this time, so she came over personally and assured me that it is not the Texas-feared black mold. It's green mold, which apparently is less threatening. They sprayed the magic spray on it, and Voila!--it looks as though it never existed. She also assured me that the spray really does take care of the biohazard I'm concerned about living with (especially Ava). Though I am skeptical of the magic spray, I must admit my sinuses have settled down since they took care of the latest mold patch earlier today. She left here with a list of all the projects their maintenance people have never followed up on, and they are expected Friday morning to replace the rotted out wall.

It's hard living here amidst a constant stream of construction projects and maintenance problems, but it's what we can afford with a washer/dryer in the unit. I'm feeling guilty after so many other moms have asked me How can you stay there!? What about Ava!!?, and I ask myself the same question time and again. I feel like an irresponsibly flippant parent not to worry about it. But on the other hand, the house I grew up in probably had more than one mildew-smelling closet, and I hardly even had allergies until I moved away. It's a toss up. The property manager has assured me that we can break our lease if we find more mold. That's at least a little peace of mind....even if it does mean a costly and very annoying move across town to a place that will harbor its own unknown maintenance needs for us to deal with. I think.

I have spent time, money, and effort on making this place "home." I don't really want to have to leave now. (That would also mean painting all the walls back to horrible stark white.) And they just put in a new playground this summer, which we are really pleased about. It would be a shame to end up somewhere with no playground within walking distance since we only have the car one or two days a week. Why did all the mold have to present itself just when I was accepting this place as home?

I am thankful I have a place to call home. Even if it's moldy. I guess we'll stay.