Well, we’ve had a productive week here in the Mid-Atlantic.  Tuesday, while at my doctor’s office, I thought I was feeling dizzy.  Just what I needed, another symptom to add to the list.  No worries though, it was just an earthquake.  I know my California and other friends more accustomed to the earth suddenly swaying as the plates beneath us slide and collide think that we East Coasters are silly for making such a big deal about a measly 5.9 earthquake, but for most of us, it’s a new experience.  I’ve lived in Delaware my entire life and for 29 (+4) years, I have never once felt anything even close.  I’ll be happy if I never feel it again either.

My son Jake, who just turned four last month, was outside on the deck with my Mom when everything began moving.  Wednesday he asked me in a slightly worried voice, “Are we going to have more of those Earthquakes, Mom?”

Not wanting to lie, since technically we could and were also more likely to still feel aftershocks, I said, “Well, Jake, it is possible.  We live in an area that usually doesn’t have many Earthquakes though, and they said on the news it was one of the strongest ones in a hundred years.  So don’t worry about it, we probably won’t feel any more.”

Jake, looking very relived said, “Whew!  I was on the deck with Mom-Mom and the whole erff (earth) was moving.  Inside my brain I thought, ‘What da hell?’ but don’t worry, I didn’t say ‘hell’ in front of Mom-Mom.”

Up next was Hurricane Irene…again, many of our friends from Florida up to North Carolina thought we “northerners” were making a big deal over a little Category 1 or 2 Hurricane.  Since many of us have not had a direct hit from a hurricane in our lifetime, and because we already have had record rainfall amounts this month, it was another event I think is all relative.  Our structures are not built like ones in California that can withstand the earth moving and shaking.  Very few of us also do not routinely have hurricane shutters installed on our homes, and many people who called their insurance companies this week found out they cannot purchase flood insurance (if you are like me and not in a designated “flood plain”) and many did not have Hurricane coverage.  Wouldn’t that be a real bummer to have your house blown and or swept away to find out that’s not even covered by insurance.  Really, as far as natural disasters go, it’s relative.  So what may be routine to some, is a big deal to others.

By Friday fellow Delaware residents were scrambling to get what supplies they could for Irene’s impending approach.  Because I’m an alarmist (we’ve just recently talked about this), and because my Dad works in Emergency Management, I panicked early in the week and bought all my supplies before the rest of the general public started snatching up theirs.  The Red Cross actually has a great emergency pack list, and with multiple disasters this week, I decided at the very least it, I’d have a disaster kit together in the event we needed one.

Here’s some pictures of how we prepared for Irene:

 

Food, First Aide, Batteries, Flash Lights, and more!

Even though I bought my supplies early, had I any real foresight I would have purchased all the D Batteries I could find and sold them for $20 a piece on Friday. I would have made a mint.

 

It's not just for drinking! I was worried about flushing #2's too!

It's important to test your items too like this battery powered lantern. I was on a quest to find Coke for my Captian

This was my emergency, emergency stuff. If the kids got real restless when the power went out, I'd entertain them with paint, new coloring books, window crayons, and if needed, bribe them with crap food like Spaghetti O's and Pop Tarts.

Don't forget to secure outdoor items. If conditions became bad enough INDOORS, this was going to be where I rode out Hurricane Irene. I would have been fine. It was tied to the fence afterall.

And finally, prepare for the worst and hope for the best. Flooding wasn't a huge concern for my kids.

Hurricane Irene blew past Delaware in the early morning hours and we saw conditions deteriorate throughout the day yesterday (indoors and out).  After an already record month for rainfall the nearly foot of rain we received in some spots was not needed.  We also had a lot of wind which destroyed my vegetable garden and uprooted several bushes and plants around my house.  We lost internet around 3pm Saturday, the Direct Tv was in and out all afternoon and night until 9pm when we totally lost power, and my sanity was also lost somewhere in that time frame.  With multiple tornado warnings, and a ton of noise from rain and wind upstairs, we all slept in the family room together.  The boys and I were on the pull out sofa and Cecilia and my husband were on an air mattress. With the loud weather conditions, the lack of air conditioning, and being out of their normal routine, all three kids were up well past midnight.  Our power came on and off twice at 1am which woke anyone actually asleep because my security alarm goes off every time the power comes back on (scaring the shit out of the kids).

Finally, around 2am they fell asleep but rolled around unsettled for four more hours until we felt it was safe to put them back in their own beds.  Thank God they all slept between three and four more hours, and even though I declared a mandatory state of afternoon nap time, at nearly 3pm no one is listening and all three are awake, cranky and annoyed that they can’t play outside again (still very windy, lots of rain and my back yard is a swamp).

Thank God the storm wasn’t as bad as predicted and after this week of medical issues, earthquakes, hurricanes and tornadoes, I think I may try to sneak off for a nap…that outdoor playhouse is looking pretty good about now!  I hope any of you in the storm’s path were able to fair as well as we did, and I hope the rest of you had something better to watch than the news and weather channel’s constant coverage of what must have been the slowest moving Hurricane in history.

Are you in a disaster prone area?  Am I being over-reactive?  Were you in Irene’s path?  Leave me a comment!  And while you’re here, please do me a favor and click on the link below. JUST ONE CLICK casts an automatic vote for me on Top Mommy Blogs!  Thank you!

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Mommy Poppins

 Posted by Domestic Diva at 9:00 pm  Uncategorized
Apr 062011
 

Today was “Kite Day” with Joey’s Kindergarten class.  Kite Day, in case you didn’t know, involves every child bringing in a kite and all of them running around in an open field flying them at the same time (or at least trying to).  Kite Day, my friends, is even more fun than you’re imagining it is.

Today’s festivities were rescheduled from last week due to wind/rain/snow, and although it was a bit chilly the sun was shining, and there was a steady kite flying breeze.  Thankfully, all of the kites had been assembled by the “Wednesday Mom” this morning, so all the kids had to do was get them in the air. Sounds simple enough.

Joey has an awesome kite.  It was purchased from “The Kite Store” where the name says it all.  This kite puts all other kites to shame.  It is comprised of some aerodynamic fabric and developed by NASA.  The color combination and design will leave you breathless as it soars through the air.  That kite is in my parent’s garage at the beach house.

Today Joey’s kite, from family Dollar, cost all of $2.50 and was made of trash bag type plastic, two skinny wooden sticks, and a string roll on a cheap plastic handle.  I thought it was going to take Jesus Christ himself to appear and make this piece of shit fly.

Kite flying, as you may or may not know, is all about location. Location, location, location.  So as I surveyed the available space, did a quick assessment of the wind’s speed and direction, and saw where most of the children were clustered, I took the kite and my son over on a hill by the far end of the field.  I was not hopeful as I position my son and the crappy kite, and I was completely shocked as the kite took flight with ease.  Joey wanted to watch me fly the kite, and I was so excited that ours was one of the first in the air.  This caused me to get a little cocky and let that p.o.s. soar higher and higher.

“Mom!!!  It’s gonna go to Mars!  It’s too high!  You’re making me nervous!” Joey whined.

“Are you kidding me, Joey?  Look around, you’re supposed to fly your kite as high as you can.  Welcome to Kite Day, son.” I half scolded.

I made Joey hold the kite a few times, but he preferred to backseat kite fly and critique my technique.

“Joey, relax. Have fun.  Isn’t this fun?  Watch, I’m going to make it go higher!” I squealed.

And so it was for twenty minutes.  Yes, for twenty minutes my Joey’s kite soared higher and higher.  This kite flew longer than any other kite I had ever flown, and I was pretty pleased with myself.  I hummed the “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” song from Mary Poppins and thought those musical Londoners had nothing me.  Joey, although nervous, began to see my mad kite flying skillz for what they were, and I took the time to prep him on what he should say to my husband when we got home. He was never going to believe this.  I was rocking this kite flying business and after twenty minutes I had that kite flying 50 feet in the air.

The thing with a kite being 50 feet in the air is that if the kite loses the wind and spirals back to the earth it has the potential to fall 50 feet in any direction.  I’m sure many of you are thinking I crashed the kite into a group of five year olds, into the teacher, or smack on top of the principals head.  I didn’t, thank you very much.

But when this Family Dollar airborne miracle lost the wind beneath it’s wings and came crashing down, I watched helplessly as it spiraled out of my control right into a line of 35-40ft pine trees.  Fudge…only I didn’t say fudge.

Joey cried out and my brief moment as an ace kite flyer was over.  “It’s in the tree, Mom!  I told you it was too high! It’s Kite Day and my kite is in the tree!” Captain Obvious wailed.

And there, atop the might pine, my pride and joy was wedged.  I struggled for a moment and the kite fell down a few feet.  A swift breeze spun it round a branch and as I tugged I knew it was a lost cause.  “It’s over, Joey.  I should have listened; we (I) flew it too high.”

Joey has no poker face.  He sulked and slumped over and I tried to keep him with me and help some of the other kids whose parents didn’t come for the fun.  Joey helped me help his friends and he also made sure to point out the kite in the pine to anyone who would listen.  I laughed it off, seemed typical enough for me, just the ending I’d expect, until Joey walked over to observe another boy’s kite high in the air, down in the field below.  Joey congratulated him on flying his kite so high and then quickly pointed his finger at me and called me out to yet another parent, “Yeah, my Mom flew my kite right into a tree. My Mom broke Kite Day.”  I apologized again to Joey, but the other boy’s father said he’d go take a look.

I tried to explain it was 35 feet in the air and there was no way it was coming down.  The boy’s father continued over towards the trees and pushed away some branches at the bottom.  As he looked up at the tree I could not believe it as I saw him place his feet on a branch and he began a precarious ascent up the sappy pine.  “Oh my God!” I exclaimed, “That is so unnecessary!  The kite cost $2.50 and we flew it for awhile, it’s not worth you breaking your leg(s) or neck!”

The boy’s father ignored me and continued up the tree.  The branches crackled and made snapping noises as he made his way all the way up to the top of a tree.  Perhaps he was a bear in a previous life, maybe a squirrel, or maybe they teach police officers these things at the academy now (he’s a state trooper).  Either way, after what felt like a lifetime he reached the kite and made what felt like an even slower decent.  I kept thinking of what I’d say to his child when he fell 35 feet from the tree, and how I’d pay for his inevitable medical bills.  Could I somehow have this covered under my homeowners insurance? Doubtful.

As he handed me back the kite Joey and several other children erupted into cheers. I knew the real miracle of Kite Day was not my long and glorious flight, but rather it was that this every day hero didn’t break his neck rescuing my kid’s crappy $2.50 kite….cause that is also my kind of luck.

Nice flying, Mom.

With 2.50 for paper and strings
You can have your own set of wings
With your feet on the ground
You’re a bird in a flight
With your fist holding tight
To the string of your kite

Oh, oh, oh!
Let’s go fly a kite
Up to the highest height!
Let’s go fly a kite and send it soaring
Up through the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear
Oh, let’s go fly a kite!

When you send it flyin’ up there
All at once you’re lighter than air
You can dance on the breeze
Over ‘Kindergartners and into trees
With your first ‘olding tight
To the string of your kite

Oh, oh, oh!
Let’s go fly a kite
Up to the highest height!
Let’s go fly a kite and send it soaring
Up through the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear
Let’s go fly a kite!

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Feb 252011
 

I was going to write about this yesterday, but my injury prevented me from doing so…

Technically, this has been a short week.  We had President’s Day off on Monday, another snow day Tuesday (also the day of my fall from grace), and Friday the kids are off for an “in service” day.  So why did I feel like I had run a marathon by the time I was picking up my son from preschool Thursday just before lunch?  Maybe I was still feeling the effects of my fall on Tuesday. Maybe it was the heavy desk I decided to move from one side of my house to the other on Wednesday. Maybe it’s because my husband’s snoring has reached almost unbearable levels or perhaps it’s because the younger two kids have yet another cold causing them to cough, sneeze and toss and turn the last few nights..  Whatever the reason, my body aches and my mind is tired.

So as I pulled in the driveway yesterday just before noon with Jake and Cecilia in the back seat, a front seat full of shopping bags, and snow covering the lawn, it occurred to me that maybe I should leave the kids in the car, run up and unlock the door, and come back to escort Jake and carry the baby.  This way, while my arms are full of bags, and I’m fumbling with the keys in the door, no little people are running and falling in the melting snow, or worse, out into the street.  Seemed like a smart and simple enough plan.

I grabbed most of the bags from the front seat and left one or two light bags that I could come back and easily manage in one hand while carrying Cecilia with the other.  I left the door open and said “I’m just opening the door and I’ll be right back to grab you” to the kids as walked the 15 feet to front door.  The heavy plastic bags with two gallons of milk and four bottles Juicy Juice (among other items) dug into my arms.  They ached already from moving that stupid desk and shelf and I considered making two trips. That’s when the screaming from the car started.

What the hell were they both flipping out about?  Was there a fucking bear that climbed in the open front door and was mauling them as I stood 15 feet away? As I turned to see what the problem was I dropped my keys.  “I’m coming right back!” I yelled as I attempted to grab the keys.  Several bags slid down and nearly broke my wrists. “FFFFFFFuuuuuuu….” I cried out nearly toppling over.  Sweet baby Jesus, nothing is ever simple. Ever.

I managed, to grab the keys, stand up, and turn back towards the door.  I assume my son was crying since his sister was screaming, and it’s my assumption that she felt abandoned in her car seat. Holy shit, this is taking much longer than I had hoped.  “Alright, guys! I’m right here!  I’m coming to get you! Reeeeeelax!” I called out.

It took a huge amount of effort to open the storm door which I kept propped open with my ass, and even more to lift my sore and weighted arm to the lock on the door.  The key slipped off the lock and on the second attempt slid right in the lock. Victory!  “Kids, I’ll be right ….garble! Garble! Blah! Pftf!”

What just happened? My face was burning.  I couldn’t see.  My arms couldn’t reach my face.  Instinctively, I dropped the heavy bags and grabbed at my face.  The cold, wet snow now stung my bare hands too.  It took me a moment to get my breath back and realize what had happened.  Did I get hit in the face with a dozen snowballs?  Did I fall off the porch into the snow? Or did the 42 degree temperatures, sunshine, my commotion and yelling out to my kids cause a giant sheet of snow to slide off my roof and land on my fucking head?  Yes, yes.  It was the latter of the three.

I saw stars…literally.  My head was wet, my face felt like it was burning, and I no longer heard the cries of my children.  Was I deaf now too?  No.  Apparently, my youngest two kids saw what happened and just sat in stunned silence.  I managed to open the front door, left all the bags on the steps and went to retrieve the kids.  Jake just stared at me, and didn’t even try to run through the snow.  He just marched right up the walk, stepped over the bags and went into the house.  The baby clung to me as we made our way behind Jake, and just before I set her down inside she reached out and touched my wet hair.

They immediately went to play and I grabbed the bags from the front step one by one.  For a final smack in the face, one of the gallons of milk had broken and spilled all over several other bags and the front step. Awesome.  Thank God at least the kids were safe in the car while I was hit by the avalanche.

The rest of the day I popped Motrin, drank Coke, and even ate 2 mini Snickers bars to cure my headache.  I also went to bed two hours earlier than usual, and today with winds up to 60 mph, I’m not taking any chances outdoors.  I’ll be hanging out inside the safety of my home lest a house drop on my head.

I must have said this line from “The Hangover” a hundred times yesterday:

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Lego my Eggo

 Posted by Domestic Diva at 6:10 pm  Uncategorized
Feb 072011
 

I’d been having one of those stayed-up-too-late-and-forgot-to-set-the-alarm type mornings, and just as I began to settle down and tried to find my groove, my daughter, who had been out of her highchair for all of three minutes, found, ate and began to choke on some Legos.  Because of my daughter’s tendency to climb, eat, and generally cause mayhem, I rarely leave her alone in a room and was thankfully right there as she first coughed then stopped making noise all together as the plastic blocks obstructed her airway.  I quickly ran over, swooped her up and performed the Heimlich on her. After just two thrusts she coughed out the Legos, which were two blocks stuck together, and as a bonus I got a handful of Eggo Waffles she had eaten 10 minutes earlier.  She immediately coughed, cried, and then began running around acting normal, while I stood there holding regurgitated Eggo & Lego in my hands and could actually feel the hairs on my head turning gray.

I spent the next hour following her around, listening to her breathing, and of course looking for any other choking hazards that may have been left around.  Normally, my older children’s toys remain in the finished basement’s playroom, and only my daughter’s toys are within her reach upstairs.  This was something that fell off a friend’s toy who had visited Sunday.

Still shaken by the incident after an hour,  I called her doctor and got some reassurance that she was probably fine now after giving them the play-by-play. I tried not to think about what could have happened since she was fine and I was right there.  Cecilia, aka ‘Baby Hoover,’ enjoys eating a variety of things off the floor including but not limited to old food, grass, mulch, and evidently Legos.  My floors aren’t that dirty, she just finds every little thing that falls on the floor.  If you track in a piece of mulch or dirt from outside, this child will be eating it within 20 minutes.  All I know is that I cannot wait for her to grow out of her Pica phase…it’s causing premature aging on my part.

Hours later, while she was napping, I went through and did a visual sweep of the area, checking under couches and the entertainment center to ensure I didn’t miss any other Lego parts.  Thankfully, I didn’t find any more Legos, but did get a couple other items I’d been looking for…

Under the entertainment center was a missing DVD, a couple puzzle pieces, a remote and a empty box of raisins.  I hate finding food or food items fearing one day I’ll have insects crawling around my house as a result.  So as I continued my sweep of the house, I was especially irritated to find that there was a raisin on the rug by the front door.

Only, it wasn’t a raisin…

So to end my Monday, which by definition are generally shitty, I picked up a small turd that must have fallen out of my daughter’s diaper just before I had changed her that morning.  She won’t use the potty yet at 19 months, but once she goes in her diaper she’ll get a clean diaper, start disrobing, and even try to remove the dirty diaper.  Through this normal process a little mini turd must have rolled out, and unbeknownst to me, and just laid there looking like a raisin waiting for me to pick up and squeeze between my fingers.

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Hot Pursuit

 Posted by Domestic Diva at 1:26 pm  Uncategorized
Oct 202010
 

My heart beat faster in my chest than it has in a long time. My lungs burned as I breathed in and out, faster and faster, the cold midnight air. My legs felt like they were made of cement, and with every step, I felt like I had to physically command them to move. Faster and faster my heart beat. Faster and faster my legs moved.  I had no choice; I was losing him.

My body, so abused by three pregnancies over the last five years, is in no shape for a marathon, but my legs did as I commanded and pushed forward. Forward through people’s front and side lawns, forward through the empty lots.  My anger was the only thing propelling me forward.  With every soggy step, through the knee high grass on the empty lots that anger grew and boiled. What was I going to do when I caught up to him? Or what wouldn’t I do?

“You better stop!!” I manged to yell between gulps of air.  “I…swear…I…will not stop ….chasing ….you….you…little asshole!!!” I screamed hoping a neighbor would hear and help me.  The bandit slowed a bit and peeked a glance in my direction. I saw fear in his eyes even from 30 feet away, and I knew that he knew I meant business.  With not nearly enough breath left to yell anything else, I just raised my arm and pointed right at him.  Without missing a beat he dropped it in the tall grass, just before the next neighborhood and disappeared over the man-made hill.

I stopped, hands on knees, praying God would let me live long enough to retrieve the stolen item.  As I stood there with cold sweat pouring down my face, lungs on fire, and legs wobbling,  and I heard my husband calling my name.  I waved and manged to tell him they dropped it.  His face indicated he had no clue what I was talking about.  As I slowly made my way through the last of the empty lots,  I continued to pray. First, a prayer of thanks that I made it out the door before my husband who might have killed the thief had he caught up to him. Second, a prayer that there were no critters or creepy crawly things like the snakes (that I know are there) between me and my nearly stolen treasure somewhere just ahead in the tall grass.

Finally! I reached down and examined the face.  The pumpkin, slightly bruised and missing two teeth, smiled up at me.  I found the top of the Jack-o-lantern another two feet away and sloshed my way home.  When I reached my street corner my husband met me and took the now one-toothed pumpkin from my arms and said “what the hell just happened?”

As he shut the front door and I removed my muddy ballet slippers and pj pants, I told him I had woken up 30 minutes earlier with a headache.  I’m battling a sinus infection and my motrin had worn off.  I came down stairs to pop a couple more and sat down at the computer to check my email before returning to bed.  I saw shadows move past the window, and at first thought it was my over-active imagination scaring me again.  As I peeked through the curtain I saw two hooded teens right outside my front door each going for a pumpkin.  Infuriated, I quickly turned off the alarm, called up to my husband and threw open the front door. The smarter of the two kids took off without a pumpkin, and the dumber took off with a pumpkin in the other direction. The chase ensued.  My husband scolded me, yes literally scolded me, for not waiting for him, but how could I? There was no time, I just reacted.

I went to two stores on Saturday looking for suitable pumpkins.  I spent another two hours that evening helping the boys carve just one of those pumpkins because they wanted to clean it and carve it themselves. I, of course, assisted with the carving, but we had a few practice drawings of the mouth and some debates on what type of face we wanted the pumpkin to have…so after all that was I about to let some punk teenager just walk off with my time, money and most importantly family bonding? Hell no!

Let that be a lesson to any punk kids in my neighborhood.  I’m willing to die of a near coronary to save even something seemingly as worthless as a pumpkin. My kids would have cried and then inevitably whined until we spent another two hours carving another one.  I also would have had to take them to pick out another one at the store which was a painfully long process the first time.  So next time, pick a different house…or face a crazy, sleep deprived, suburban Mama.

Who wouldn't try to save such a masterpiece?

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False Alarm

 Posted by Domestic Diva at 9:29 pm  Uncategorized
Sep 292010
 

A few years ago, shortly after moving into my newly constructed home, fire trucks went around and had to evacuate some of the homes in our neighborhood due to a gas leak.  We heard and saw them driving up and down streets and really didn’t have a clue as to what was happening.  Our home was one of the first completed in our phase and for a number of months our closest neighbor was 2 blocks away.  When the trucks finally reached our house they informed us we had to leave until the leak was under control.

One day, several months later, we were enjoying a beautiful Saturday with the boys and had the windows open.  I began noticing a strong odor tainting the steady breeze we had blowing into the house.  After an hour or so, it became so bad that my eyes began to water, and once I noticed the boys were suffering the same smelly symptom, I shut the windows.  I began to worry there was some freak chemical leak and the kids were going to suffer permanent damage from breathing in toxic fumes.

However, after an hour or so with the windows shut the smell seemed to dissipate.  My husband had also given me another talk on my tendency to overreact, and I finally began to relax a bit.  That is, until I heard the sirens.

At first, the sound of multiple firetrucks began off in the distance miles away.  Slowly, over the next several hours, the sound slowly got closer and closer.  I kept alternating between the window and my computer scanning for news on a chemical leak.  My husband’s theory was maybe it was a wedding or something for someone in the fire department. Ridiculous! I knew he’d be singing a different tune once we were evacuated and being treated for toxic fumes at a local Red Cross Shelter.

The sun had now begun to set on what I feared was the last day of our lives.  Just after dark I saw the lights coming. Three trucks began driving through the development with lights and sirens. “Get the kids!! Joe, get the kids!! We’re leaving!!”  I shouted.  I wasn’t about to wait for them to go to the other 150 homes first and risk further damage to my kid’s lungs.  We were clearly at the other end of the development and I remembered how long it took for them to inform all the other residents of the gas leak the winter before.

Have I mentioned before I might not be the best person to have around in a true emergency? I grabbed a clothes basket, threw in several outfits for each of us, several empty clean bottles, formula, granola bars and diapers.  I then grabbed a case of bottled water in the event we needed uncontaminated water for baby bottles.  If I had gas masks I would have grabbed them too.

“Susan, shouldn’t we wait and see what’s happening” my husband boldly questioned on the front lawn.  “Do you want to risk the health of your children?!  Cause I don’t!  I call from the car…Let’s.Go.Now.” I frantically pleaded.  My husband, God Bless him, in times like this probably just assumes it’s better to go along for the ride (literally in this case).  So off we went.  I remember turning around and looking back at our house, who knows when we’d be back. I said I silent prayer for those brave fighters who were risking their own health to evacuate the whole town, I supposed.

I called my parents first, my mother was obviously confused as to why we were coming to her house, and I quickly hung up the phone and called the fire station. “Hello, I’m calling about the fire trucks driving through our neighborhood.  We’ve already left and I wanted to know where the leak was…” I said.  “Ma’am, I’m sorry did you say leak? What leak?” the male dispatcher questioned.  “You know the leak. We smelled it earlier; it was so bad our eyes were watering. We closed the window, and we heard your trucks for hours.  I didn’t want to wait until they got to our house like the last time there was a leak.  I have young children; we left the house.  Are you saying there’s no leak?” I questioned.

At this point, I do not look over at my husband who I can feel looking at me. “Uh, Ma’am…our guys participated in a national tournament and won something pretty big today.  They’ve been celebrating by driving through the town, parade style,  even in and out of the developments.  We got first place and the guys are showing off…” he said seriously but with an obvious effort not to laugh at me.  “Now, what’s your address, we’ll send someone over to check out the leak.”

As we headed back home, my husband took the boys and said “when the trucks get here, this is all you!”  So I sat on the front stoop, waiting for the breeze, no praying for a breeze, so that the firemen could smell the toxic fumes on the wind.  As the trucked pulled up to the house, and I saw it was full of firemen in their gear, I contemplate just throwing myself under the shiny red truck.  The panic of my children being in danger was wearing off, and the realization that I’m a total spaz was setting in…after the ten or so volunteer fire fighters unloaded off the truck, one identified himself as being in charge.  I began to tell him about the gas leak in the winter, the smell in the morning, our eyes watering,  and finally the trucks coming in the neighborhood.  The entire squad (or whatever a gaggle of firemen is called) began to laugh.  In his best effort to remain professional, one began by asking me a question.  “How long have you lived here?” Knowing for sure I was an idiot at this point, I replied less than a year.  He asked if I ever smelled anything similar before and I told him I had not and this was my first self-determined evacuation. “Well, you see, Ma’am, there’s a Hanover Food’s Plant on the other side of town…and on days like today, when the wind is really whippin’ you can smell it all the way over here at your house.  I smelled the very same thing this morning.  They must be processing onions.” Cue a roar of laughter. “So the strong odor (which to this day I swear was not like any onion I’ve ever had) which made your eyes tear was just them adding onions.”

The good news about this day was that I realized you cannot die of embarrassment. The bad news is that I have to chaperon my son’s class to the fire station (the same one where these heroes are from) on Friday.  Did I mention this was a small town?  I’m thinking of dying my hair, wearing a mustache and dark glasses.  Did I also mention that this was only one of a couple super embarrassing events in the last couple years with said fire station?  I’ll save the others for another day, but keep me in your thoughts and prayers for Friday. I feel another “moment” coming on…

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