"Lights no work"

First, let me reassure you that we're OK. I'm sure you all have been terribly worried about us what with all the news you heard about our tornados/inland hurricane/bad thunderstorms last Friday, right? I mean, it's an official declared disaster area here. I personally never saw the CNN news trucks, but I'm sure you saw their extensive coverage? Interviews with survivors on NPR? Lengthy newspaper articles with harrowing pictures? What? Really? Nothing?

Oh well. It all just feeds that Southern Illinois insecurity complex we have going here. Don't even get me started on how much attention Chicago gets at our expense.

But it was scary. We'd had really bad thunderstorms starting late Thursday night, with hail and torrential rain. Storms continued late Friday morning, just after Calla and I had returned from a stroller walk home from playgroup. We waited out that storm, and then went to a friend's house for lunch. I was trying to cajole Calla out the door (so many fun toys at everyone else's house) when Joe called to warn me that another storm front was on the way in. We were about 5 minutes away from home, and while I thought about staying put, figured we had time to make it home. Good decision, as it turns out. I was just putting Calla down for a nap around 1:30 or so when the tornado sirens went off. We headed to the basement with Chloe and Lily following close behind. Just then the power went off and the emergency weather radio went silent. I still didn't think it sounded too bad, which helped me stay calm, which helped Calla think this was all just a fun diversion from naptime. When we emerged 20 minutes later, I could see it was pretty bad outside. And that was just our neighborhood.

Trees were down everywhere. Big pines trees snapped in half like asparagus. Huge 100-year old Oak trees, completed uprooted. Power lines down, roads impassable. The tree-lined street where we'd had lunch was littered with trees and power poles. Fortunately, other than a cedar tree in our front yard that splintered and fell on our forsythia, we had no damage at all. It was a little embarassing in fact, when neighbor John had trees lining his garage and roof, and Ed across the street had his backyard covered in downed trees.

Closer to town was even worse. The University was hit hard. The next community to the east of us was also really torn up. In the end, it looks like the storm (a climatologist spouse of a friend of mine called it a "derrecho"?? - haven't yet googled to see what that means) cut a 20 mile path from west to east and we just happened to be in its path. Some "tornadic activity" was involved, we're hearing now, although true climateologists apparently scoff at the original diagnosis of an "inland hurricane." I happen to like that description the best - makes us sound exotic.

Our biggest damage was the loss of our freezer and fridge for 5 days. We invited a neighbor family, who also happened to be our pastor and family, over for dinner Friday night to eat as much grilled meat as we could manage. We were lucky to have a gas stove, which kept dining options open. But unfortunately, an electric hot water heater, which helped us realize how optional regular showering really is.

Calla never really cared. We probably spent more time outside, which she loved. Her lack of interest in TV paid off, so I never had to explain why I couldn't summon up Elmo. Most often, the simple explanation of "the lights don't work" sufficed for her. She'd nod knowingly, shake her head and repeat "lights no work."

So, yesterday, after 5 days and 1.5 hours, the power truck stopped me just as Calla and I were setting off on a walk. I could have kissed the grizzly man who said we should go back home and see if our lights were working. We followed behind as the truck drove slowly up our street, parade style. Neighbors ran out of their house, waving and yelling thanks to the utility workers. We waved back and joined in the excitement when we got home and saw the garage light on. Well, I was excited. Calla was just mad that her stroller walk was cut short. All things considered, she liked it better when the "lights no work."

Calla Update

I realized that what with my postings on gardens and baby owls (one egg hatched - still waiting for the rest, FYI), I haven't updated you on 22-month old Calla's latest tricks.

"Kiss You"
We've gotten to that stage where a well-placed kiss from Mom or Dad will heal most bumps and falls. Typically, by the time Calla finds us, she's already forgotten what she hurt, and will usually offer an out-turned palm for a kiss with the request "Kiss you!" Yesterday, she scuffed her toe on the rug while we were playing. Apparently, it was not nearly enough discomfort to warrant a kiss from mom, so she said "kiss you" to herself and brought her toe to her own lips. Mwah. All better.

Back on the Potty Train
We had started the whole potty thing a while ago, but after (what I thought were) some early successes, Calla seemed to be terrified of her... ummm... outputs. I only had to mention "potty" and she'd lunge for my neck, protesting tearfully. So, this week, I was pleasantly surprised when she suggested a sit on the potty. We read a book or two, maybe sing a song, and generally have a potty party. Maybe someday, something will happen there again.

"ABCs! ABCs!"
Calla's latest favorite song is the Alphabet song. She can sing it all the way through on her own, if you allow a loose interpretation of "L-M-N-O-P." I had assumed she didn't really understand what she was singing about, until she started pointing out letters on t-shirts and signs - not the correct letters, mind you, but just calling them all "ABCs." Still, I thought that was impressive, and then this week, she pointed at the first letter on my "Quality Chick" t-shirt and announced "Q!" Can't identify any other letter, yet, and I'm baffled how she became so interested in one of the more obscure members of the whole 26, but there it is -she knows her Qs.

"Ashes, ashes"
Along with singing her ABCs, one of Calla's other favorite past-times these days is running around in a circle, singing "Ashes, ashes!" If there's anyone around to hold her hand, she'll do the whole "Ring around the Rosy" game with glee, but has just as much fun running in circles by herself - that is, until she gets too dizzy and collapses, laughing.

So, here we are - 22 months old, quickly moving in on two years old with all that brings: swift transitions from great joy to profound sorrow to bitter anger. And then back to joy again. At the end of the day, she collapses and so do I. We're not always friends throughout the day, but every morning brings another chance to try to get it right once again. Thankfully, forgiveness comes easy with toddlers!