The Storm

We didn't get a tornado yesterday, but boy did we get benefits from the scare of it.

First: Captain Kindergarten got to come home early from school.

Second: Spouse-who-likes-work-ok-but-likes-no-work-quite-a-bit-more was told to be home by 1pm.

Third:  The small part of storm that we saw was spell-bindingly beautiful.

I'm an old hand at these storms now, so here is what I know: if you're a Mom, you worry about the storm for hours before it comes, then you hear a tremendous clap of thunder, your spouse-with-the-little-boy-in-him runs to the porch to watch, you make sure you know where all your children are and calculate how with your two arms you can pick up all four children at once and run to the bathroom, but then you see that unperturbed-spouse is calm so you go out on the porch with the baby in your arms and watch the rain do flips and loop-d-loops as it gets flung like a rag doll on the wind.  You watch agape as the rain splatters up the roof instead of down.  You goose-pimple as the spray of the storm wisps around inside your covered porch.  Then the wind heaves around the corner of your house and you swear you hear the train sound that everyone who recollects their harrowing experience with a tornado says they heard right before it hits, so you dodge around amused-spouse and jump into the house with the screen door slapping behind you.  You just about yell, "To the bathroom!" like you're in the final charge of a decisive battle as you look wild-eyed at your children.  Then you realize you over-reacted.  You gather yourself together and go watch the storm out with spouse-who-is-satisfied-with-his-ability-to-be-rational.  The rain hits like poppers on the fourth of July against the cement.  It gets hurled by the bath-tub full against the car and then against the little struggling tree and then against the power lines.  Then it slows.  In a second it looks like a spring shower.  Then it is a drizzle.  Then it is gone.  In no more than five or ten minutes from the opening shot, the sun is shining.  You tell spouse-who's-still-excited-about-the-branch-falling-off-of-the-tree-across-the-street that you think you will go for a run now that the bad weather's past.  As you're about to get going on your run you mention to spouse, "That storm sure was beautiful," and he says, "Yeah, but you were scared."  And you say, "You're not a Mom, you don't know!"  And he says, "Thank goodness!"  And you laugh.

That's about how a storm goes, as far as I know. 

P.S. - My heart goes out to all of those who did suffer in the storms yesterday - in eastern Kentucky and southern Indiana things really did get bad.  The ferocious unpredictability and complete devastation of a tornado is humbling indeed.