The Tornado Watch

** My blog is a bit like a newsstand tabloid - when newsbreaking stories hit, you backburner those previous blog postings you wanted to post. And yes, I'm 4-5 posts behind - a few more glasses of wine, peaceful evenings where I can write and you too can read about The Bomb Bag, The Travel Curse Taxi Style, The Travel Curse Again, etc. Tonight, that would be newsbreaking story - not as cool as Angelina having twins, but chaotic none the less. Enjoy! **

The Tornado Watch

Most people embrace each day with a smile and hope for the best that life will bring them. While I share in this optimistic view of life, the truth is instead of embracing each day, I usually brace for my day steeling my nerves and readying myself for the inevitable chaos that will ensue. Today was no exception.

This evening, as a family fun outing, we planned a Cubs game to see our beloved Cubbies play hard towards the hope of a World Series title. The game started at 6:08 p.m., thanks to ESPN, and of course, I was running late home from work…with the tickets. Once I arrived home, Dave and the kids were packed up and ready to go, complete with mitts (in case of a foul ball), healthy snacks (to counter the cotton candy they would be eating) and tickets to awesome seats where we could yell out to the players and they could actually hear us.

The benefits of living one block from Wrigley Field are numerous. We can hear the ballgame from inside our house, with the windows closed. We can set up a lemonade stand for the kids and make $50 (although Delaney last week asked if she could sell beer instead, she thought she could make more money – unfortunately all of her profits would have gone towards her bail). We can sell parking spots and let the kids earn extra money. The list goes on and on. The biggest benefit of living close to the Field, however, is when we are at a game. The typical plan is we take the kids to the game, and once one or more of the kids start to freak out, I take them home leaving Dave, his beer, and the Cubs to enjoy the rest of the game.

This evening, during the top of the 5th inning, Max started rumbling of wanting to go home. OK, he actually had to go to the bathroom, but none the less, “I want to go home!” was heard around the ballpark. Looking for an excuse to leave the chaos of the game and go home to some peace and quiet, I quickly volunteered to find the next pedi-cab to take me the one block home (alright, truth is, I’m lazy – or, I think having a guy ride me home on a bike is pretty cool, one of the two). Just as we were pulling in to our home, the heavens opened and the rain poured down. I’m sure airplane passengers everywhere were wondering if I was flying and thus the reason for the storms. What can I say, not today.

After 15 minutes behind me, Dave, Delaney and Jack come racing home soaking wet, leaving my brother in law Mike, and his fiancé Lindsay, at the game. As Dave said, “We don’t do rain delays – we wait those out at home.” And so we began to settle in for a early evening, a bottle of wine, and most importantly, my just delivered People magazine with Brangelina and the twins on the cover. Yippee! I had settled in to reading my 19-page spread of the Lady who lived in a Shoe, aka, Angelina, when we heard the most peculiar sound.

“Su – do you hear what I hear?” “I think I do – it’s either the party siren or we have a tornado barreling down on us.” “Get the kids, go to the basement.” “Right-o, I’ll run upstairs and see if I can snatch them away from the entertainment of SpongeBob Squarepants.” “Kids – to the basement…I think. I can’t remember what I learned in 4th grade about tornados. But I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to be in the basement.” Let see, flooding – go to the top floor. Earthquake – stand between a door. Snowstorm – pile on the fleece and dress in layers. Tornado – bottom floor? Basement? Get away from the mobile homes? Crap – I don’t remember! “Delaney, quick – what did you learn in 3rd grade about tornados? Or is that 5th? Are you smarter than a 5th grader?” “Mommy, go to the basement, and wait 20 minutes after the tornado comes to make sure we’re safe.” “OK, RUN to the basement! Go to the bedroom down there, I’ll protect you…after I get a few things.”

So, after the kids make their way to the protection of a mattress in an interior room (heard that was important), I run to grab a few things while Dave either opens or closes the windows, I still don’t remember what you’re supposed to do with the windows and frankly, I wasn’t paying attention.

While the kids were huddled on the bed, and we were listening to the AM radio, it felt a bit like Y2K. Remember that? The earth was supposed to implode, but I was ready with my cans of baked beans, water bottles and duct tape. Frankly, I could have sold that duct tape to the airlines for the work they did on the broken nose gear. Anyway, as I’m listening to the radio, I hear them say, “Go to the basement and put your hands on your head.” I look over and what are my kids doing, yep, they have their hands on their head. “Mommy – PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!” “But guys, if my hands are on my head, I can’t reach my glass of wine and I’m really thirsty!” Then I hear Delaney say, “I don’t feel so good.” Great, it’s a freaking tornado and Delaney has Tornadoitis. For all those medical types that are reading this, don’t pretend you don’t know what Tornadoitis is. It’s the immense fear of Tornados that makes you sick to your stomach. Yes, you guessed it – my precious, sweet daughter Delaney decided at that moment to throw up the contents of Wrigley Field concessions - the hot dog, malted chocolate ice cream, cotton candy, peanuts...and the carrots that Dave packed. UGH! Throw-up cleaning supplies were not on my list of Tornado-prepardeness!

I’m sure as you are reading this you are beginning to wonder where Dave is. I, too, was beginning to wonder where Dave was. “Dave, where are you? If we’re going to die, could you at least come down here and join us?” “I was thinking I would stay by the door and just in case Cubs fans needed a basement to run to, we could let them in.” O.K., in theory, nice. In reality, come on! This is not the Titantic, all I need is 35,000 screaming Cubs fans in my basement. I already have one puking kid, I don’t need more! “Dave, umm…, I think that’s a bad idea. Not a big fan of throwing a party right now. I only have one bottle of wine and it has my name on it.”

And I’m sure many of you are wondering what is in my Tornado-prepardness-kit. Frankly, I was working by the seat of my pants, so I only took the things that were important to me:

· Kids - Dave clearly was more concerned about helping his fellow baseball loving pal
· Bottle of wine - hey, I might get thirsty, and I had just opened it
· Jill’s Orzo Pasta Salad – yum, it’s really good, even better on the second day
· Computer – constant access to all things important like weather.com
· Cell Phone – my new iPhone did me no good as I got no reception in the basement
· New People Magazine – hey, if I’m going to die, I want to know what those twins look like!

That’s it. That’s what I took to sweat through the tears and fears of my first siren-blasting Tornado Warning in the city. Completely pathetic, but I know some of you girls out there are thinking I had the making of a nice night in. Mike and Lindsay took shelter at the stadium, in which they locked the gates. First time in 40 years. Dave held firm by the door and popped his head downstairs occasionally to make sure we were okay. And now? Well, the kids are asleep on the 2nd floor and we have started our flood preparations – moving everything off the floors, saving the Wii and all other important items in our basement. While many times I feel like Old Mother Hubbard who lived in a Shoe, days like today, I feel a bit more Noah’s wife while we wait out the storm.