Cracklin' Rose

So this past 4th la famille and I went to my in-law's houseboat on Lake Verybiglake. It is a lovely lake and it is a lovely houseboat, chock full of all the amenities of home, including the EX-box. We eat and swim and eat and ski-doo and eat and nap and watch sunsets and shooting stars and ass hole boaters dragging unfortunate ski-ers behind them. Lots of fun.

Occasionally a summer storm will roll in and we'll ride it out with our box of cheese crackers and the latest issue of Star or People. This trip was no exception. The first storm came through while on our way back to the marina to gas up for another night anchored out in the middle of the lake. I was reminded of the downpour the girls and I had survived just days before on our trip back from up north as the sheeting rain made visibility less than zero (only without all that pesky throwing up and Jamie Gertz), but, as FIL remained calm, so too did I. Finally, the storm passed and we made it in to the gas station, where a phone call awaited us. Seems some people in our pier saw our boat coming in and they called the marina to tell us there'd be a lull in the storm and then a bigger, badder, more pissed off storm would roll through so now'd be a good time to dock. So dock we did and went about our business of fixing our dinner. As we ate, the sky, as forecasted, darkened and the wind picked up.

After dinner the girls settled into a night of EX-boxing and I settled Rosie down in the lower cubby and tried to nurse her to sleep. Except I couldn't relax enough for my milk to let down because I kept hearing sirens. Like the kind that signal badness. Badness about which summer blockbuster movies are made. So I made my way back upstairs and said to my husband, "Am I hearing what I think I'm hearing?" To which he replied, "yeah."

Yeah, he said. And that was it. So I was a teeny bit alarmed, ya know, being on a boat in a lake with sirens going off around me. "You think maybe we should turn on the weather channel?" I asked, fighting my urge to pee myself and demand that we go home RIGHT NOW. (Home, by the way is a nice four hour drive.) "Oh, don't worry," my mother-in-law said, "these sirens go off all the time at home, you know that. Even if it's only a thunderstorm." Which is true, but we weren't home and the yellow sky was freaking me the hell out. I said with only the teeniest amount of panic in my voice, "Turn off the fucking game and turn on a local channel." Despite my children's protests, J tuned in to a local station and across the bottom of the screen rolled: "The NWS has issued a TORNADO WARNING for the following counties: Buttcluster, Nadlicker, and Closerthanyouthink counties. Seek shelter IMMEDIATELY."

"What county are we in?" J and I asked, while Bear ran around the boat panicked, demanding to be taken home RIGHT NOW. Some days I regret teaching her to read.

"Oh, we're in Buttcluster," my MIL said, "but these sirens go off all the time at home."

Meanwhile people on the other piers are bustin' ass up toward the campground's bathroom. I turned to J, "What do we do? We're on a boat! What do we do?!" All poise, baby. Grace under pressure? That would be me. Wonder where Bear gets it?

The wind picked up and I clutched Rosie to me and tapped into my inner drama-queen, already mourning all the things she'd never get to do, all the things Dee and Bear wouldn't get to do and wondering if death would hurt and praying it wouldn't. It was then that I realized that Bear was already off the boat and running down the pier at speeds I've never seen her run at before. With gusts of wind that were shaking the cars I could see up on shore. With lightning all around us. Without her life vest.Screaming the whole time, "We're going to die!! I don't want to die!!! Run, Mommy, run!!"

So, with Rosie in my arms and Dee attached to my leg, I took off after my oldest. Down a pier, with gusting winds. Without lifevests. All the while yelling for my Bear to hold still, wait for Mommy, to calm down. Finally J passed me and caught up with her and the two of them left me and Rosie and Dee behind. He will pay for that!! Oh, yes. He will pay. It was a half mile sprint, with the final leg up a steep hill while holding a 14 pound infant and worrying that I'd give her shaken baby syndrome with all the bouncing.

Soooo, we finally get in the van and drive to the campsite's bathroom and hunker down with lots of people and three dogs, one of which was a massive German Shepherd that quote, "hates people." It was like... the exact opposite of fun. And all the while I kept wondering just what the hell I was going to do when the tornado hit. How I'd keep my kids near me. What if we got separated? What if we all died except Rosie and someone stole her? What if that damned dog decided to get even more nervous and bite one of my kids? Would it be bad form to let my kids actually use the toilet since both of them were doing the pee dance? Why hadn't I worn a belt? In Twister they belted themselves to some pipes and lived to tell the tale. It'd be a squeeze, but I could belt all three kids together and then to the plumbing.... I was so close to freaking the hell out, but I couldn't because every time I looked down I had three sets of the most beautiful, trusting, and frightened blue eyes you've ever seen looking up at me for reassurance.

J remained wonderfully calm, whispering to me about how we'd cover the kids with the blanket his mom had made Rosie. I hadn't even thought to bring it in, but he had. How we'd get close to the ground and do what they taught us in grade school. He was doing what he does best, being my rock, soothing me so I could function. Have I mentioned that I love him? Because I do. Even if he did leave me behind to be sucked up by a tornado.

So, anyway, the anti-climactic ending, the tornado decided to go bug someone else and the warning was lifted. We survived and I learned a few things about my family. 1. Bear does not handle life-threatening situations with any kind of finesse and would be the person in the movie to say, I dunno... run screaming into an oncoming tornado. 2. Dee trusts us implicitly to protect her and absolutely refuses to freak out. She's Nicolas Cage in that Alcatraz movie. 3. J and Dee are clones. And 4. If I didn't have these kids to look out for, I'd be right behind Bear running into obvious danger. Oh, and 5. I totally have to start working out.