Years ago when I lived in Boston, I wasn’t the only one shaken up by Gloria’s expected arrival in town. We planned rooftop parties and bought all the candles and beer in the city. And masking tape. No, Gloria wasn’t kinky. She was a hurricane.
Being young and definitely not a parent, my friends and I were more likely to wait out the excitement with cameras and curiosity than preparations and protectiveness. We weren’t the only idiots on the roof as trees began swaying below on Commonwealth Ave. But as it turned out, Gloria wasn’t much of a party girl and so she did a quick tour of town and left without breaking any hearts or windows.
Chicago is so different, and so am I. Monday morning I’m lamenting that the rain will steal my baby’s playground time at school. Afternoon I’m glad he likes his new hand-me-down rain boots, and thankful that his dad’s Mondays-in-July gigs are through so we’ll see him tonight.
Seven thirty or so at night, storm warnings pop up to disrupt Antique Road Show and my paella, only catching our attention because of two things. One, they say a tornado WARNING, not Watch, so at least one has been spotted in this storm. Two, I hear them say Logan Square.
WHAT?! This I have got to see! Ignoring the TV voice, I go to look out the window and imagine I’ll see it coming like in a Judy Garland movie. We’re on the fourth floor, and I start feeling a little vulnerable. And of course, after Katrina in 2005, who will ever take the National Weather Center warnings lightly??
Then I notice J. He’s starting to pick up on something going on. When the third or fourth ticker runs across the screen, his dad tells him to shush and stop playing so he can hear it. He sounds nervous, and suddenly out of the Daddy Zone he’d been in.
That’s when I realize I’m the one who’s got to keep us safe, because I’m the one able to make good, clear decisions while keeping the anxiety level it to a minimum.
What did the “experts” say after 9/11? That we can best help children handle disaster by focusing on The Helpers. So I tell Daddy and J. that I’ll watch the weatherpeople in the other room, since that is who is helping us know if the storm is safe or dangerous. And without J noticing, I also start packing for the worst.
Ten minutes later, in the building staircase I’ve put shoes for all 3 of us (since we’re barefoot inside,) flashlight, seven-day candle LIT already, one coat per person and a sleeping bag. And I tell Darius that if they say one is spotted in the city limits, we’ll head straight out the door and go to the first floor and camp out in the stairwell.
They’re saying 8:22pm is expected time for the storm center to cross the north side. We can no longer see out our windows due to the rain being slammed against the glass, sounding like hail. It’s 8:18 and I’m deciding I’d rather be the weird woman who took supplies and family into the stairwell for a rainstorm than one of the families that got injured by glass shattering in their living room, or worse, anything at all harming J. I watch the Doppler one more time in my room, expecting to be convinced to leave now. Instead they’re talking about it being over 130th and Cicero. Then they’re talking about the lakefront and Indiana. I don’t blink until I realize it’s almost 8:30 and they’re going to commercial. They’re far too afraid of lawsuits and FCC hearings to go to commercial if they have urgent news that, if withheld, could cause harm or damage to the public. I decide we have been pretty much missed.
This time the party boy zig-zagged through town and caused floods and tore massive trees up by their roots but left my porch planters untouched. Didn’t even scatter the memorials-in-a-milkcrate in my area that mark where people have recently been shot. All this preparation and the party boy didn’t even tell us his name. I felt stood up. But glad I didn’t have to play games with J. about the storm danger and being in a stairwell, possibly as our home gets destroyed.
A couple hours later, Daddy has gone home and J’s asleep. I’m looking outside and mopping up the rivers running down from my leaking front windows, and I watch the lights go out one block at a time. Some will stay off for 2 days, but ours only blink several times.
I wake up at 3 am, and can’t stop feeling a rush of thought and fear and action impulses. I’ve always had a hard time coming off an adrenaline situation. This one was so anti-climatic. I didn’t get to save anyone. I didn’t even get to be certain my plan was right. I eventually will fall back asleep, knowing that protecting a child or anyone else isn’t about the moments that earn interviews on the Today Show. It’s about being the parent who is ready to do the safe thing at the drop of a hat, and who pushes aside their worries of looking silly, or of failing, and who just does what needs to be done.
The next morning I bring J to daycare and we merrily point out all the trees along Humboldt blvd that have been toppled. It’s sobering. He’s handled all of this well. I give myself a mental pat on the back, put in his VF music CD, and keep driving.
2 comments:
At least you listen to the news! Dumb ol' me was standing right in front of the window at the time, holding Tyler in my arms and with Evan by my side, explaining to them, "See? It's just rain. Nothing to be scared of... Oh, that sound is just thunder. It's nothing."
That is until I turn around and see my dad standing there, drenched in water, telling me to get myself and the kids downstairs immediately. (Apparently he tried calling on the phone, but I didn't answer so he decided to come over.) I'm all, "What? I'm putting them to bed and they were a little scared." He spelled out the word tornado -- as if my kids know what a tornado is -- and we headed downstairs to wait it out.
The kids were remarkably calm, probably because their mother who always had to be told to come in from the rain, was absolutely clueless. They just thought it was cool Grampa came over. Ignorance can be such bliss!
That's so funny, Christina! So far I've only talked to one other person who actually went to a "tornado-safe" location. My across the hall neighbor guys were focused on the skylight leaking. I told them "In about 15 minutes, that's gonna be the least of our problems." They had gotten a call from one of their moms, telling them to be alert.
It's funny how so many things come into play when we're deciding how to prepare for an emergency. Some people wait to see what everybody else is doing. Some people swing into battle mode without concern of overreacting. Some people are calm, some are unraveled. guess I'm somewhere in between. Though I'm still trying to realize/accept that i did a good job, and that while it wouldn't have hurt to go ahead down and wait, that I made an educated call to NOT take the last step even though we were ready to. Next time, though, I'll err on the side of caution and do it. It'll be good practice for us, and j. will learn that taking safety measures is the best use of energy when scared of something. The trick is doing that PLUS what you did: Keeping everyone from spinning out in anxiety, keeping calm discussion going of what's happening and facts and sharing feelings openly. I think this is what i learned from this one: That I want to teach J. and anyone else who cares to listen how to be active in handling anything while also being smart, calm, and gentle to each other throughout.
P.S. Thanks for stopping by "my place." : )
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