Aug 21, 2009


8/21/2009 — cori

You know how some dogs can sense a storm coming? We used to have one like that. She would immediately go hide behind all the clothes in the closet or stay glued to my side wearing a worried expression, while panting heavily. Yeah...that's me. I'm just like our old dog. I HATE thunderstorms. As soon as I hear one blowing in, I start to panic. Especially if its at night. I hide my head under the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut to no avail. I run and check on the kids. Why? I have no idea - it just seems like something a concerned mother should do. I run and check the news to make sure there are no tornado warnings and to watch the animated radar like a hawk.

This is Texas after all. When a storm rolls onto these plains, the wind blows stronger, the lightening seems brighter and tornadoes can pop up at any second. Admittedly, I've never been in a tornado. But I've hidden in our 'storm closet' too numerous times to count. That's my safe place when a storm hits. I know that tucked in the closet under the stairs with Chuck's iPhone (so I can watch the animated radar), my purse, shoes for everyone and a flash light...all my immediate fears melt away. But it doesn't stop my heart from pounding, my head from aching or my eyes from being big as saucers.

And let's not even get into the physiological aspects of what a storm does to me. I'm one of the lucky few who is so sensitive that whenever the barometric pressure changes fast for any reason, my head decides to warn me with a migraine. So now...not only am I in panic, raised heart rate mode...but add to that the migraine. I'm a walking idiot.

Try comforting scared children in this state of mind. Try playing down the fear and talking about how "God is just watering the flowers, trees and grass, honey. It's okay. Don't worry." Why does he have to use lightening and loud, loud thunder though too? I'm really a child in an adult costume.

One night, when Chuck was out of town, the siren in our neighborhood went off around 3am. I take those sirens literally. If someone is taking the time to blow a siren...I am taking the time to get out of the way of a possible questions asked. So, with heart pumping out of my chest, I run upstairs to carry each sleeping child down to the closet. This was only this past spring people - my children are not light. Gavin can carry me for goodness sakes. I was running on pure adrenaline. After a good 10 minutes and lots of huffing and puffing, we are in mommy's safe place. I calmly inform the children not to panic, but we're just going to hang out in mommy's closet for a little while in the middle of the night. The natural thing to do is to include Chuck in the fun. So I call him in the middle of the night and ask him to check the radar for us. Pathetic.

I have a problem. I know. I have many other equally pathetic problems. This was what makes me unique. Most people like to claim certain skill sets that set them apart from others such as speaking a different language, being a great artist, playing an instrument. I prefer to use my patheticness as my differential factor.

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