Burnt Hair, the Hospital and a Rogue Set of Googlies

So much crazy has gone down in the past 72 hours. 

For starters, Windpocalypse 2017 came at us like a wrecking ball, and I mean that in the most literal sense possible. The greater Rochester area, but particularly our town of Irondequoit, just started vomiting trees all over the place. In the words of my four year old son, Jay, "it's insame."

The past few days feel like everything in my life was shoved into an enormous version of that game Barrel of Monkeys, shaken up and then spilled out all tangled and confusing and somehow dangling precariously from one flimsy limb. So, now you all get to experience the literary version of these things being spilled out, in a random, haphazard and somewhat tangled order. Here are the events that transpired over the course of the past 72 hours:

-One ancient tree exploded into the street and landed directly at the end of our driveway, crushing nobody, but if it had fallen in literally any other direction, one of our houses would have been decimated.

 Our house is the white one. Jay is by the stump, for perspective.

Our house is the white one. Jay is by the stump, for perspective.

 View of wreckage from attic window.

View of wreckage from attic window.

 I picked up these 7 crazies from school to discover the driveway completely blocked - this pic was taken because,for a brief moment, one of them was certain they could move the tree.😂

I picked up these 7 crazies from school to discover the driveway completely blocked - this pic was taken because,for a brief moment, one of them was certain they could move the tree.😂

-A thousand other ancient trees were uprooted, landing on countless homes, cars, a mail truck, a school bus, etc.

 Photo from Democrat & Chronicle

Photo from Democrat & Chronicle

  Photo from Democrat & Chronicle


Photo from Democrat & Chronicle

 Our friends' house is under there. :(

Our friends' house is under there. :(

 And our old church, impaled by its own steeple.  

And our old church, impaled by its own steeple.  

-Many of these trees took powerlines down with them and we have been without power since 1:30pm on Wednesday.

 Photo from Democrat & Chronicle

Photo from Democrat & Chronicle

-I got called into the school because one of my children used magnet letters to write “nipples” on the magnet board. (Before you judge, I should note that he did not learn that word at home. I am not mature enough to use correct anatomical language with my children, so ‘nipples’ is not a word he learned at home. In my house, we say “googlies,” like normal people.)

-The first thing I did after the power went out was spill a canister of white sugar all over the floor. You really do need a vacuum for that sort of situation. This is the one single thing that is stopping me from becoming Amish. Mama needs a vacuum because no birch broom is gonna cut it when you have wall-to-wall sugar carpet. And my hair would never stay under those little bonnets. And also I love nail polish, it keeps me sane. Okay, whatevs, maybe being Amish wasn’t ever really in the cards for me.

-Tom found a secret hidey-door on our fireplace with a battery compartment for just such an emergency. Not the sugar emergency, but the power outage. So, we have a toasty fire in one room that has allowed us to stay in our house, despite the dropping temperatures.

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-On a churchlady dare, I gave Tom such an epic kiss that he forgot to put the car in park and I closed the car door on my own knee while Tom just watched the car roll away with his eyes glazed over. #skillz

-We have moved all of our food from the luke-warm fridge, to the front porch, which feels super classy. Nothing says “I have no dignity left” like a huge ziploc bag of chili on the front stoop.

-London was in the hospital for a procedure to confirm Celiac Disease as well as further testing on her thyroid. Her thyroid levels have continued to elevate and each test proves a little more concerning than the last. The GI doc just called to inform us that while we are still waiting for all the lab results to come in, her TSH is, once again, higher than the last test.

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-She was a champ at the hospital and in recovery, and groggily requested sushi on our way home. So, high thyroid levels aside, she’s pretty much acting like herself.

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-They are calling the power outage a “multi-day event” as if it some sort of special occasion and, Lucky us! We made the guest list!

-The kids are actually having a blast living pretending to be Amish (there’s still a chance for them) and love living by candlelight while we remain one of 92,000 people who initially lost power in Rochester.

-In other news, that may or may not be related to the children enjoying the candlelight, Marlie set her hair on fire.

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Guys… do you recall the title of my last post? Please Excuse My Mental Breakdown? Yeah, I think that post may have been a little premature because what in the actual heck is going on!? All of this has been so crazytown, I really have no choice but to laugh.

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(Except about London’s poor precious baby thyroid, if you laugh about that I will cut you.)

In times like these – and in complete transparency, my life always seems to be “times like these” – I feel really elderly. I don’t feel like the 35 year old spring chick that I am. I feel a thousand. I feel like one of those skittish, old, maniacal women who laugh way too hard and for way too long, and then the laughing takes a fast curve into spontaneously crying, and all this while feeding so many birds for some reason. That’s me. I’m a thousand and I’m “insame” and I’m here cackling away in the candlelight with all the birds, but I am one sugar-granule-on-the-bare- foot away from snapping.

Poor Tom. Yesterday he had to calmly explain to me why he felt it was actually for my benefit that he talk to me “like a mental patient.” Say goodbye to your magical makeout sessions mister.

In all seriousness, as hectic as the past 72 hours have been (and the preceding 35 years) I haven’t actually lost my mind. That is how I know that Jesus is real. That is how I know that when life comes crashing down, sometimes all at once, he is steady and at the center of it all. And I honestly do not know how I would do each day without him, without the hope that this life isn’t all there is. I really believe that this life, and all its trouble, are temporary. That London will not suffer forever. Even if she suffers for her whole life, it won’t be forever. Even if every 72 hours looks as wild as these ones did, it won’t be forever. It is this awareness that keeps me going. Apart from my hope in a God that sustains us (sometimes with front-stoop chili) I would not make it through another day, let alone come through it laughing.  

We will eventually get our power back. Marlie’s hair will eventually grow back. We will eventually get to the bottom of London’s strange set of symptoms. Eventually, I will be mature enough to explain to my kids what these so-called “nipples” are. Until then, we are just going to say that where we are at right now – even if it is the center of windpocalypse 2017 – is the best place to be, because it is where He has put us. And I don’t want to be anywhere else.

Unless somewhere with less sugar is available.