Irma ask you to stop kicking me; thanks, kid.
Obviously this blogging business isn't my ticket to fortune or fame. Too bad about the first, but okay about the latter, I suppose.
Nevertheless, this corner of the interwebs is still up and I just felt like saying hello to the singular person who might bother to read this post.
Hey, you!
As I write this, we are getting back to normal after Hurricane Irma. When I say "we," I mean my pocket of Florida. The damage caused in other areas of the state as well as the Caribbean islands is, simply, heartbreaking, not to mention what the areas of Texas affected by Hurricane Harvey are still dealing with weeks on.
But here, in the panhandle of Florida, we fared better than expected. What we expected was a repeat of 2016's Hurricane Hermine, after which some of us were without power for a week, and the roads were blocked with trees, and many power lines were down.
As Irma approached and the information about it constantly updated, we decided to stay put. We had prepared as best as we could for the inevitable power outage. Until Sunday morning. (Irma was expected to fully arrive that night.) Then we made the last minute call to beat it to Patrick's uncle's house in middle Georgia.
We hurriedly packed and made the final sweep outside the house to make sure everything was inside. And because we #LeaveNoPetBehind, I scooped a very uncooperative cat into her carrier and loaded up her supplies.
Two adults, two toddlers, and a cat in a Camry. What about that doesn't scream FUN to you?
The trip north was, frankly, a breeze. It was like we had an escort the whole way. There was basically no traffic. No bottlenecks. No accidents. We made it to our aunt and uncle's house easily. We got to visit with them and the girls got to play with some of their cousins and had a blast.
What is NOT a blast is sharing a bed with a tiny person. We were in Georgia for two nights. There was a full-size pull-out bed available as well as the air mattress we brought. "Divide and conquer" we decided. Each parent takes a kid and hopes for the best.
Night 1. Dad and the little one on the air mattress. Mom and the bigger one on the pull-out.
Tiny one, who still sleeps in a crib at home, had trouble dealing with the freedom that the air mattress provided. She apparently decided that playtime should be from 1-3:30 in the morning.
Big one is a typical small person who, somehow, takes up all of the space. I was kicked in the ribs, the back, the stomach, and the head at various points throughout the night. The sweet child would curl up into the fetal position and then, needing a good stretch, would, with explosive movement, shoot her legs out straight with the force of a cannon. Directly into me.
We needed lots of coffee the next day. One of those cups of coffee came courtesy of a camping percolator heated over the gas stove. Because our hosts lost power that afternoon. Word from neighbors back still home was that our house was okay. And that we never lost power. Go figure.
Night 2. We switch kids. Dad and the big one on the air mattress. Mom and the tiny one on the pull-out.
Big one repeated her Night 1 performance for dad. The nearly 6-foot tall man had but a fraction of the queen sized air mattress to use as he pleased, while the child star-fish slept across the rest of it.
Tiny one at various times tried to: lay on my face; lay on my stomach; lay on my back; dive head first off the bed; sleep on my pillow; sleep on her pillow; remove all pillows from bed. She also, it should be noted, moved every 5 minutes--just enough to wake up the mother worried about a second swan dive toward the hardwood floor. Sometime around midnight mom awoke. Sometime around 3 she went back to sleep. (Thanks to strong percolator coffee that was consumed around 8:00 pm. Smart move, mom.) At some point during her awake hours, the tiny one sat up, felt for mom's face in the dark, and stuck her finger forcefully into mom's eye.
We needed lots of coffee that day, too.
That morning we packed up our belongings, our cat, and our children, said goodbye to our family, and headed back home. I've never seen so many Florida tags in GA. It took us 2 hours longer to reach home than it did to leave. The cat carrier only fit in the front passenger floorboard, so I sat for 6 hours in various bent up positions. My hips and knees let me know I am not 15 any more.
But home we did indeed make it. Blue skies. White puffy clouds. A few branches down in the back yard and a fridge full of still-cold food. What a gift.
How about you? Did you make it through okay? Did your children take turns kicking you in the uterus?
Electricity, food, and A.C. to you and yours,
xo
Nevertheless, this corner of the interwebs is still up and I just felt like saying hello to the singular person who might bother to read this post.
Hey, you!
As I write this, we are getting back to normal after Hurricane Irma. When I say "we," I mean my pocket of Florida. The damage caused in other areas of the state as well as the Caribbean islands is, simply, heartbreaking, not to mention what the areas of Texas affected by Hurricane Harvey are still dealing with weeks on.
But here, in the panhandle of Florida, we fared better than expected. What we expected was a repeat of 2016's Hurricane Hermine, after which some of us were without power for a week, and the roads were blocked with trees, and many power lines were down.
As Irma approached and the information about it constantly updated, we decided to stay put. We had prepared as best as we could for the inevitable power outage. Until Sunday morning. (Irma was expected to fully arrive that night.) Then we made the last minute call to beat it to Patrick's uncle's house in middle Georgia.
We hurriedly packed and made the final sweep outside the house to make sure everything was inside. And because we #LeaveNoPetBehind, I scooped a very uncooperative cat into her carrier and loaded up her supplies.
Two adults, two toddlers, and a cat in a Camry. What about that doesn't scream FUN to you?
The trip north was, frankly, a breeze. It was like we had an escort the whole way. There was basically no traffic. No bottlenecks. No accidents. We made it to our aunt and uncle's house easily. We got to visit with them and the girls got to play with some of their cousins and had a blast.
What is NOT a blast is sharing a bed with a tiny person. We were in Georgia for two nights. There was a full-size pull-out bed available as well as the air mattress we brought. "Divide and conquer" we decided. Each parent takes a kid and hopes for the best.
Night 1. Dad and the little one on the air mattress. Mom and the bigger one on the pull-out.
Tiny one, who still sleeps in a crib at home, had trouble dealing with the freedom that the air mattress provided. She apparently decided that playtime should be from 1-3:30 in the morning.
Big one is a typical small person who, somehow, takes up all of the space. I was kicked in the ribs, the back, the stomach, and the head at various points throughout the night. The sweet child would curl up into the fetal position and then, needing a good stretch, would, with explosive movement, shoot her legs out straight with the force of a cannon. Directly into me.
We needed lots of coffee the next day. One of those cups of coffee came courtesy of a camping percolator heated over the gas stove. Because our hosts lost power that afternoon. Word from neighbors back still home was that our house was okay. And that we never lost power. Go figure.
Night 2. We switch kids. Dad and the big one on the air mattress. Mom and the tiny one on the pull-out.
Big one repeated her Night 1 performance for dad. The nearly 6-foot tall man had but a fraction of the queen sized air mattress to use as he pleased, while the child star-fish slept across the rest of it.
Tiny one at various times tried to: lay on my face; lay on my stomach; lay on my back; dive head first off the bed; sleep on my pillow; sleep on her pillow; remove all pillows from bed. She also, it should be noted, moved every 5 minutes--just enough to wake up the mother worried about a second swan dive toward the hardwood floor. Sometime around midnight mom awoke. Sometime around 3 she went back to sleep. (Thanks to strong percolator coffee that was consumed around 8:00 pm. Smart move, mom.) At some point during her awake hours, the tiny one sat up, felt for mom's face in the dark, and stuck her finger forcefully into mom's eye.
We needed lots of coffee that day, too.
That morning we packed up our belongings, our cat, and our children, said goodbye to our family, and headed back home. I've never seen so many Florida tags in GA. It took us 2 hours longer to reach home than it did to leave. The cat carrier only fit in the front passenger floorboard, so I sat for 6 hours in various bent up positions. My hips and knees let me know I am not 15 any more.
But home we did indeed make it. Blue skies. White puffy clouds. A few branches down in the back yard and a fridge full of still-cold food. What a gift.
How about you? Did you make it through okay? Did your children take turns kicking you in the uterus?
Electricity, food, and A.C. to you and yours,
xo
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