I've been fighting colds for a month now. Hence my lack of posting. By the time I'd get them to bed, I'd be too tired to even concieve of going downstairs, turning on the computer, and being creative.
Saturday night, I thought I'd post after I lusted over Colin Firth in "Pride & Prejudice."
Never got that far. I was finishing up a glass of Reisling and wallowing in period literature when I heard something.
No way. Can NOT be. It's freakin' November.
But I turned off the tape, turned on the one reliable weathercaster in this town, and sure enough: tornado sirens.
I was alone with the younger two kids; dh and kid one were off at the annual daddy-daughter dance at her school. The other two were asleep.
Okay, did I really need to wake them up? Once the weathercaster started listing off landmarks and intersections in my neighborhood, I caved.
Woke up the kids. Kid two was handed a flashlight and told to be brave.
"I'm scared, Mommy."
Guess what, I was too. Because if it came, I knew there was no way I could hold on to both him and his 14-month-old sister. My plan was to lay on top of them and hold onto them for all I was worth.
In the end, we just had some hail. It was dicey there for a bit, though. There was an F1 in the next county over. Nothing like what they had in Iowa, though.
Kid two can't stop talking about the "tormado" now. It's a topic every night. I'm proud of him, because he was brave, despite being scared. He listened, despite being the same 3-year-old pest who was sent to bed early for not listening. He was an angel.
But, please God, could we hold off on the tormados until next season?