The Thunderstorm
in Giggles on April 10, 2024
Houston is no stranger to severe weather.
In the summer we have heat warnings that rival vacation ownership on the sun. In the spring, we have enough pollen sifting through 98% humid air that simply clings mercilessly to all surfaces—hair, skin and clothing—the inside of your lungs. And, for all of you non-Houstonians, yes, it IS possible to have close to 100% humidity and it NOT rain. Down here, we drink the air.
We are accustomed to and extremely familiar with roofing insurance claims due to hail of biblical size and proportion.
We throw actual hurricane parties.
In fact, the only weather that really scares us to the point of sheltering in place, is a cold front that drops the temperature below forty degrees. We cannot handle that. There will be a run on the bread and milk aisle at the local grocery store. Firewood will be bought by the truck load—even if you do not own a wood-burning fireplace.
Good or bad, we are built different down here.
Last night the greater Houston area played host to a whopper of a thunderstorm. I woke up, or rather, was woken up by my six-year-old Goldendoodle, London. She was gently, yet persistently nudging my hand and arm. As I navigated through heavily sleep-filled eyes, I recognized the telltale marks of a textbook springtime thunderstorm.
As if on cue, as my eyes tried desperately to adjust to the darkness of my bedroom, a brilliant crack of lightening splintered the night and my room instantly shifted from black of night to light of day. Incidentally, at that very moment, the power failed. The whir of my bedside fan ceased and my sleeping husband groggily stirred and asked why the fan was off.
Both, London and my Bernedoodle, Mrs. Bennett, pounced onto the bed, whining and huddling as close as humanly possible to me. Still on the floor was my old and deaf, miniature dachshund, Faith. Apparently, this storm was intense enough to rouse her as well. I leaned over the side of the bed, and picked her up so that she could snuggle with her sisters.
As all five of us laid there in the silence, save the pounding rain and window-shaking thunder, I had to smile.
It’s been longer than a hot minute since I had scared babies crawl in bed with me during a thunderstorm. I didn’t realize that I had missed that particular aspect of my parenting journey, until last night. Granted, my fur-babies are not exactly like my other babies, but in that moment, the similarities outweighed their differences.
How many nights have we, as parents, overlooked the innocence and frailty of our kiddos because we were viewing the situation through sleep-soaked eyes? It’s easy to try and rationalize away the perceived impending terror of a thunderstorm to our adult mind. But children (and evidently dogs) do not have the ability for rational thought. With the first bolt of lightening and deafening boom of thunder, their brains scream out, “DANGER! SEEK SHELTER!”
“FIND MOM.”
Over the years, I have spent more than a few nights on the floor in a child’s room. Some of those nights I was keeping watch over a stubborn fever. Some nights, I was actively waking up a kiddo every couple of hours to check cognitive reflexes due to an impressive bump on the head. And still others, I was simply providing protection against the elusive, yet powerful, Boogey Man.
In all of those situations, I was meant to be a calming presence. A ray of light in a dark time. I was there merely to provide comfort.
I didn’t always see it that way.
I now have the benefit of hindsight, to help uncloud my vision. Our babies are only babies for a little while. After a time, they will no longer need us to battle the monster under the bed or the Boogey Man in the closet. Why? The rational part of their brain will develop, and they will no longer even see those things anymore.
I know how hard it is to love every aspect of parenting. I know what sleep deprivation does to you: body, mind and soul. I know how exhausting it is to try and keep up with a ruthless and brutal stomach bug that slowly and steadily makes its rounds through a household.
If that is where you find yourself today, please stop for five seconds, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. This to shall pass, and when it does, your heart will ache.
Needless to say, I didn’t get much more sleep last night after all of my new bedmates took over. Two eighty-plus pound dogs, a little dog with Napoleon syndrome, and one blissfully unbothered husband, does not a good night’s sleep make. However, it was nice to know that I am still needed. I’m still, after all these years, able to provide that same level of peace and comfort, that surpasses words and rationalization, to those in my care.
For now, the rain has passed and the air outside is still. The power is back on and life will resume as usual. If a thunderstorm is rolling through your world right now, hunker down, the sun is coming.
Have a great day!
Bill says:
Good one! 😊