Tryin' to reason with tornado season

“Well, the wind is blowin' harder now
Fifty knots or thereabouts
There's white caps on the ocean
And I'm watchin' for waterspouts” ~ Jimmy Buffett; Tryin’ to Reason with Hurricane Season

Three-quarters of the year or so I spend much of my time daydreaming about living in the Southeast. I’ve had an attachment to the Sunshine State in-particular since I was 9 years-old, and not only because it’s where Walt Disney World is located. Although I admit that is a big part of it. I love palm trees and lizards and the idea of ocean only a short drive in either direction. However, this is that rare time of year when I DON’T envy all my friends living down in Florida. And the news the last couple days is reiterating that feeling.

Not that we don’t get our share of rough weather here in the Midwest, especially in the summer. Summer brings heat and humidity and with it, the very real threat of tornadoes dropping out of the clouds with little warning. In an earlier blog post I mentioned how my youngest daughter was not a fan of mine the first month of her life, and it was only after an "act of God" that she and I found peace. It was in late-June, only four short years ago.

My wife had taken the two older kids to her sister’s house about an hour north of us for a day of swimming and frolicking. I’m not a fan of public pools and volunteered to stay home with the baby who was on a strict nap schedule and didn’t need to be out in the hot sun anyway. In truth I just wanted to spend a Sunday planted on the couch. Early that afternoon I was doing just that, lounging on the sofa watching a movie while the baby napped. I wasn’t even paying attention to the scene just outside the patio door a few feet away, until I noticed some strange movement from the corner of my eye.

If you have kids, you’re probably familiar with the red and yellow Little Tikes Cozy Coupe. It’s every child’s first car. I suddenly became aware that my kids’ Coupe was flying across the cement patio just outside the door. I thought “well that’s peculiar.” Then I also noticed the sky had gone from sunny and blue to a muddy shade of green, and our neighbors' trees were currently sideways. I flipped over to the regular television in time to hear the Emergency Broadcast System finishing a sentence with “. . . hurricane force winds” followed by my county and “get to the shelter of a basement.” I clicked it off and bolted upstairs, grabbing the sleeping baby (who would be pissed at me, but what else was new?)

I headed down into our cold, concrete basement and held her tight in the corner as what little light usually crept in the subterranean windows faded to darkness. The rain was coming down in sheets so loud I could hear it hitting the roof, three levels above. I thought to myself “as long as we don’t lose power, we’ll be okay.” No sooner did I finish that thought then everything went dead. The lights. The air conditioning unit. Everything. Welcome to the stone age. I rushed over to the corner of the basement and peered into the sump pump using my phone as a flashlight, holding the still sleeping (thank God) baby in my free hand. The water level was surprisingly low. We had time before I really needed to worry. If that thing overflowed, I’d have a real problem. If the rain continued, the basement would flood. No question.

That’s when water in the basement fell a few rungs on the ladder of my concerns. It suddenly sounded like a locomotive was rushing through our backyard. You don’t hear a tornado – you feel it in your soul, and it’s terrifying. Especially when you’re standing in a dark basement clutching a newborn to your chest, with no clue where the rest of your family is at the moment.  I could feel the ground vibrating below me. Thoughts flood your brain like “what if this isn’t the safest spot in the house? What if the whole house collapses on top of us?”
I’ve grown up my whole life seeing horrific news footage of post-tornado devastation here in my own state. Plus, I’ve seen Twister about a hundred times. That’s when my daughter woke up and began to cry, not happy to find herself out of her crib and in the clutches of the hairy one! I tried my best to be calm and comforting, even though there was nobody to do the same for me. Those are the moments you regret any immature ounce frustration or resentment you ever felt toward those little ones for waking you in the night, spitting up on you, or keeping you from any semblance of a social life. You are once again reminded they are all that matters to you. Those are also the moments you find yourself trying to negotiate with your maker.  

Thankfully, while it felt like an eternity, it wasn’t but a minute or two before the rumbling and howling was gone. The pitch black at the top of the basement windows gave way to green, and then gray as a little light found its way down to us again. I breathed a deep sigh. Then rain began pelting the windows again. I looked back into the sump pump. The water was literally kissing the edges of the tank. Panicked, I looked around for anywhere to put the baby since I hadn't thought to grab her carrier. I grabbed a Rubbermaid container of hand-me-down clothes and gently placed her in it, surrounded her with a wall of soft pajamas and winter coats. Then I grabbed another, much bigger Rubbermaid; this one filled with Gorilla Blocks we’d bought our son a few years before and he never played with. They’re essentially enormous foam Legos. I dumped them out across the floor and pulled it to the well, along with an empty plastic wastebasket and began bailing water. For a solid ten minutes I stood there hunched over, trying to stay ahead of the rising water before it was covering the linoleum tile.


Eventually the rain stopped and I realized the water level was staying where I’d left it. Thank God, because the giant Rubbermaid was nearly full of brown, leafy water. I went back to my daughter and held her to my chest. This time she didn’t cry. She just snuggled into my neck. We went upstairs where sunlight was now flooding the kitchen. I nervously peered out into the backyard, expecting to see mass devastation. Miraculously all we’d lost was an old wooden privacy fence that had been erected next to the patio. If fact, later my wife would be upset we hadn’t suffered more damage in order get the fence replaced. I put the baby in the stroller and we toured the neighborhood. It seemed impossible we’d been so spared. There were giant trees completely ripped out of the ground, laying on their sides with thick roots in the air. Cars had been hit by heavy branches. Fences were downed all over the place. Neighbors were emerging from their homes, dragging rolled up carpets to the corner, ruined by the flooding. There was marble sized hail all over the grass that had pelted our aluminum siding, as well as my car, yet still no damage.  

To add to the block party, the temperature began steadily rising into the 90’s. Once everyone was home, and I plugged in the generator we’d borrowed from my brother-in-law to get the refrigerator and a couple fans running, I ran to get more fans. We'd need them. By time I got home to our personal sauna, I was greeted by three crying, miserable children and an overwhelmed wife. I loaded all of them into the minivan with instructions to drive to my parents’ house where there were plenty of beds and the central air was cool and crisp. I stayed home to man the generator and protect the homestead (with a baseball bat and steak knife under the pillow – but at least it was something I guess.) By ten o’clock I found myself lying on top of the covers in a pair of shorts, with two fans blowing on me like a modern King Tut. I began chuckling at myself and the situation. Finally, as I drifted off to sleep, the generator ran out of gas. As I began the internal debate about getting up to refill it or wait 'til morning, I zonked out from exhaustion.

In the morning, I woke to a beautiful day. I ran an extension cord from my coffee maker, out the backdoor to the generator on the patio.

Priorities, people.

I headed off to work, as neighbors began to put their houses back in order.  It was ultimately another day before we got power back, and many more days for other neighborhoods in our area. Even the annual Independence Day parade had to be rescheduled.


After that day, the baby and I became best friends. She’s my little peanut. Never cried again when I picked her up, and even now when she falls or her siblings do something that hurts her (real or imagined) she wants Daddy to comfort her. I don’t believe for a moment she remembers a moment of that day, but still, who knows? Maybe it’s somewhere, stored away in her subconscious.

Now every summer, while I welcome the sun and heat, I always get a little concerned when they start showing that cloud & lightning icon on the news. When I was young I loved thunderstorms. Now, as a parent and a homeowner, storms just make me pace nervously. It’s the reason this morning I woke up, took a walk, and made sure to send messages to my friends down in Tampa and Jacksonville who seem to be right in the storm path, making sure everybody’s okay. The A/C is on up here and we’ve got room on the couch, if you need to evacuate for a few.

Birthday Girl

Wednesday is our youngest child, Macy’s birthday. She’ll be four. We already had a party –her sister Maya is only 14 months older, to the day. I’m starting to feel guilty that we aren’t really doing anything additional. Although we’ve left most of the decorations up and I’m sure we’ll get a cake or something. The question will be, will she remember she already got her present from us? It’s amazing how quickly they can forget little things like me saying “if we give you your present now, that’s it. Are you okay with that?”

Guess what. She said she was. Of course she did. She’s 3. She knew it was her very own tablet. Of course she said yes.

Truth be told, it’s very likely we’ll have a few little things for her on Wednesday just so it feels like a birthday. I like giving my kids things. Crazy, I know. Sure, I worry about raising spoiled children who don’t appreciate hard work (which is a dumb phrase anyway - I don’t appreciate it -I just know I have to do it every day or we’ll lose the house) and the value of money.

Honestly, I don’t worry about Macy so much. She’s a very sweet, appreciative kid. Those other two . . . well, let’s keep talking about Macy.

If you’ve kept up with this blog thus far, it’s not hard to use simple math and a little deductive reasoning to determine that she was what they call “a surprise.”  One that floored my wife and me. We had such a hard time even having one, that when we were fortunate enough to have two, we said we were through.

As John Lennon said, life is what happens when you’re making other plans. One winter’s eve, we were watching television after the kids were in bed, and my wife casually mentioned she’d gotten dizzy at work and almost fell down. She said she’d made a doctor’s appointment just to be safe. I asked her at the time, “you don’t think you’re pregnant . . . do you?” I should mention that a month or so before, I’d gone in for a procedure to shutter the baby-making business for good.

So of course my wife answered “no, of course not!”

Turns out, yep, of course so! Apparently the doctor said with a chuckle “hey, let’s do a pregnancy test just to rule that out.” Nope. Problem solved. Cause found. Bun placed squarely in oven.  My wife says she cried for ten minutes when she got the news – not because she didn’t want another baby – just that, we were already exhausted. We didn’t start having them until our 30’s and now we were both nearly in our 40’s. We already felt too tired for the ones we had. She called me and it was as if she was speaking in a dead or alien language. I couldn’t comprehend the word pregnant.

After doing a few laps around my office building, I called her back and said everything would be fine. We’d figure it out. We’d make room for three. After all, I told her I loved having kids (which I did and do) and would be happy to have three, four, even five if I felt we were financially sound enough for it. We weren’t of course. We’re still not. But screw it, you find a way.

Macy’s arrival was a bit turbulent. They scheduled an induction. We checked-in at the hospital early and we were there all day, and into the night. Nothing was happening. She didn’t want to come out. Then things went south. Our doctor, Vernon, said the baby’s heart rate was dropping . . . and cue the chaos.

One nurse pushed me back and the rest began yanking chords and plugs out of the wall and in a matter of seconds, my wife, the bed, and all those electronics were gone. I was standing in an empty delivery room with just one machine making an insane, screeching beep.

In his book A Pirate Looks at Fifty, Jimmy Buffett wrote “remember that it can all go to hell in an instant.” In that moment, I got it. Every “what if” scenario races through your head. I tried to tell myself “they do this all the time.” That didn’t make it any less scary. Just as the fact women give birth every day doesn’t make it any less miraculous and amazing. In the moment, I was terrified. I couldn't imagine losing either or both of them.

At first they told me I couldn’t go. It was an emergency C section and I had to stay put. Then a minute later a nurse returned with some scrubs and said they would let me in with her, and to put them on. The scrubs were medium. You may not know this, but I’m a big boy. I can’t get my thigh in a medium. I tried to put the shirt on and looked like Chris Farley doing “fat guy in a little coat.”

Someone scurried off to get my size from the tent and awning company down the road. They finally brought me my plus-sized scrubs and we raced down the corridor. As I finally entered, our doctor was leaving and he congratulated me on a beautiful (they have to say that – the thing is covered in strawberry jelly and crazy glue-like material) baby girl and off he went. My wife was shivering and overwhelmed, but she was okay too.

While her entry into the world was full of surprise and terror, Macy was the greatest baby. Although she did not like me the first month of her life. For a few weeks I couldn’t pick her up, feed her, or anything of the kind, without her having a full DEFCON 4 meltdown. An act of Mother Nature brought us closer together – I’ll tell that story another time. Now she’s the sweetest child, and has a face befitting the angel that she is. Most of the time. She loves to help others, make people laugh, and give and share freely. She’s been the greatest “surprise” of both of our lives.

So I’m happy to spoil her with an extra gift this year!

Tablet addicts - The struggle is real

Six years ago, Steve Jobs stood before a crowd of shareholders, and really the entire world and introduced the next “big thing" – the iPad. I was skeptical.

One of his big highlights was the ability to download books. As a writer, I’m still in love with the feel of paper and biding in my hands. I love folding over a paperback to hold in one hand, or shoving one in the pocket of my cargo shorts on vacation. In my 30-something brain, I saw eBooks as the end of the civilized world.

Admittedly now that I’ve had a couple books in the marketplace and sold a fair share of digital copies, I’m less resistant. Funny how that works. Still, I’ve tried to limit my use of iPads and tablets. I have sausage fingers so I prefer an old-school keyboard. And being in my 40’s now, I have to admit reading on a screen isn’t’ always the most comfortable experience. Its bad enough I have to stare at one for every single one of my jobs.

However, all of my children discovered tablets at an early age. I don’t even know how it happened. They’d see one at a friend’s house – maybe a Leap Pad or some other form of educational toy device. Then it became the inevitable “can I play a game on your phone?” To which you think “well if it will keep them in their seat long enough for us to eat, sure.”

Now each of my children has their own tablet. My son has an iPad, and my daughters both have Samsung tablets (with matching pink cases and their names on the back.)  They are at once the bane of my existence (the tablets, not the kids) and often times my savior as I try to get dinner made for the three of them, or change out of my work clothes (I can only handle so many hours in business casual before my head explodes.)  Quite frankly sometimes I’m just tired and want to sit down and not play baseball or lacrosse or push someone on the swing set.

So yes, call me a bad parent. I sometimes allow more tablet time than I should because it makes for a good babysitter. I know, that’s probably the thing you wouldn’t want to admit in a proper parenting blog, but I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one guilty of it.

I know they should be outside getting fresh air and exercise, especially now that it’s spring. If they have to be inside, they should be reading (kryptonite to my son – don’t get me started) or playing some kind of game. Something that requires them to think and be creative.

But then I remember that when I was a kid, I had a screen for a babysitter too. You see my folks split when I was 5. I was primarily raised by a big wooden floor television with the silver knobs that “clunk-clunk-clunked” when you changed the channel. The only exercise I got was walking from the couch to the TV to change it. Kids today wouldn’t believe the inhumanity.

While I’m not defending such an upbringing, it was what it was. My mom was working her butt off to raise two boys in-between the occasional support check. On her day off, you know, the day she had to do laundry and clean, she would drop my brother and me off at the movie theater with a $20. We’d stay there pretty much all day, hopping from movie to movie. Truth be told, from age 5 to 18, I spent a huge chuck of my free time staring at screens, absorbing other peoples’ creativity.

While it did not create in me an athlete (or even someone with abs) it actually did fuel the creative side of my brain. Hence, two books in the market, full-time and freelance jobs in creative fields, and I’m kickass at trivia!  

Maybe that’s why at some point last night, or maybe early this morning (I was too tired to lift my phone and look) I heard rustling in my daughters’ room which is right next to ours. I could hear the muffled but all too familiar sounds of YouTube.  Even my sleepy, two-cycled weed whacker engine of a brain figured out quickly that my older daughter, Maya, had woken up, grabbed her tablet, and was in bed watching videos and playing her dress-up games. My brain told me I should get up, go yank it out of her hands and order her back to sleep.

But I didn’t.

I could tell you because I was still half-asleep and just too exhausted to move. And that is definitely part of it. But the truth; she’s my creative one. Her brother is a jock (don’t know where he got it) and her little sister, well, we’re still not sure. Maya is my artist. She paints, she draws, and she dances. As I often say, she is all my child. I see so much of myself in her, good and bad, that it terrifies me. Yet it also created a special bond in us. As much as she is responsible for 80% of my gray hairs, she is my girl, 110%.

I know how much she loves those silly videos of people opening weird plastic eggs with toys inside, or singing “Mommy Finger”, or creating crafts. As much as I should have, I could not take it away from her. How do I know where she will go with that information one day? Sometimes you just don’t want to sleep, so why not let her download some more brain food, even if some of it is just candy?

Frozen Question

I don't want to exaggerate here, but I've seen Frozen 7,232.6 times.

No, this is not an anti-Arendelle rant. I like Frozen. I think it's a great movie with a good message about the bond between sisters who are very different. I have two little girls at home. One only hopes his daughters will love each other the way Anna and Elsa ultimately displayed.

That said, I do have a problem with one major plot point. It will seem nit-picky to many; just a minor detail that I should get over. Nope. Can't get over it.

It isn't the snowman they made as children being resurrected years later, this time alive and sentient.
I have no issue with the boring rock trolls - other than the design was boring. Come on. You know it is. I think they were either in a hurry to get the movie made or running out of money.

The thing that bugs me about that movie, popular as it is around the world and in my living room, happens very early on, and it sticks in my craw the duration of the film.

How did Anna pay for all that stuff at Wandering Oaken's? She rushed out of the castle, hopped on her horse, and away she rode. How likely is it she had a few spare kroner stuffed in her dress? I've heard people try to explain it away as Oaken knew she was the princess and therefore would give her anything she wanted on credit, or even for free.

Really???

How would he know she was the princess? Did he see her on TMZ or in Us weekly? Oh right, no, because there was no electricity back then! Even if she identified herself after we left the store to follow Kristoff, what are the odds he would believe her? Why would the next in line to the throne be out in the wilderness, during a blizzard, alone?

I'm just saying . . .