Sandy was a bully. A big bully who made
Irene look gentle, even though Irene was no joke herself. If you want to go back to high school analogies, Irene was to Sandy as a whisper is to a scream. Or blowing out birthday candles is to, well, a freaking hurricane.
As was the case with Irene, we knew Sandy was on the way. So we bought flashlights and canned goods and water and waited to weather the storm. Owen, the future meteorologist, likes to look outside on a normal day, so the wind whipping the trees had him twisting in his high chair to check out the conditions.
Hurricane damage could even be seen inside.
Note the PJs. He wears them for like four days straight.
Before the worst of the storm even hit, our neighbors had tree limbs down, hitting the fence that lines our driveway. The storm itself was actually pretty nerve-wracking. Whereas storms in Kansas are sudden and severe, they pass fairly quickly. This lasted for hours. And hours. And hours. And although it wasn't constant, the roaring gusts had us wincing and bracing ourselves. When you're hearing racket and loud noises outside, falling limbs and trash cans blowing away, you're just waiting for the moment something comes crashing through the window. Gusts blew water into our back door, which we were able to MacGyver and fix. Our grill tipped over, landing like a puzzle piece on our patio table, which we'd turned over in preparation for the storm.
We finally decided enough with the wincing, and we headed to the basement to watch every second of storm coverage on TV and feel slightly safer. We held onto power longer than I thought we would, and I was able to make dinner Monday night, watching a tree out the kitchen window and ready to take cover if I saw it crash to the ground. Because the worst of the storm was yet to come, we decided to camp out in the basement (and a big yay for it being finished and way more comf than it was during Irene). We finally lost power at 9:34 p.m. (give or take) and crashed out as we listened to what sounded like jets flying overhead.
We woke up the next morning with limbs in our driveway and yard, but our neighbors got the damage. Their fence was smashed in places, a huge tree branch crushed their picnic table and patio set. They are set for years with firewood.
Right after some of this came down, I saw a poor, terrified squirrel hanging on for dear life. He finally, finally scurried away.
The jungle in the driveway. As I charge my phone. Which eats battery like candy.
Alan was off work the entire week last week. After a couple of days of being at home, we ventured out. A grocery store 30 minutes away was running on generators, so we got a few new items.
Where is Halloween and what do I have to do to get some milk around here?
My phone-charging-in-the-car buddy.
Minus some leaf splatter, our house is unscathed. We were extremely lucky. Extremely. The loss of power and heat was nothing compared to the heartbreaking devastation that's just a stone's throw away from us, whole houses and neighborhoods lost, memory-filled boardwalks gone. Even today, there are still people in our town without power; our downtown, just blocks away, is mostly shut down because power isn't back on. The stoplights aren't working. Our polling place moved. In the days right after the storm, it was the rare block that didn't have a huge tree down. Trees pulling chunks of earth and sidewalk with them? Everywhere.
A block away from us.
Stop. There's a tree down.
Another block over, another massive tree.
I will also just say how surreal it is to see hours-long lines for
gasoline because so many people were lining up with gas cans to power
generators for their homes and so many gas stations didn't have power to
pump gas. I was able to get gas today for the first time and I still
had to wait 20 minutes. Also weird? Having almost no cell reception. It was just wiped out...I had to try a dozen times per text I sent out, and calls would drop before I even connected.
Luckily, we have a gas stove for cooking, but not having heat gets old quickly, especially when you have two kids to keep warm. Luckily Avery is a toaster, and her room is the most well-insulated, and she demands three blankets, so she stayed pretty cozy. Owen, on the other hand, wasn't as successful sleeping on his own in a 55-degree bedroom. (High maintenance!) So he napped strapped to us and snuggled with me at night. Having him, Marti, and Toaster Sr., Alan, I didn't have a problem staying warm overnight. It just really, really sucked to get out of bed in the morning. And showers? Ha. We barely even changed our clothes.
The positives? We did make memories, although two of us won't remember any of them.
Or will any of us remember them?
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| Daddy/daughter fire building. |
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Lots of reading and snuggling.
When power finally kicked back on on Friday night, I was so relieved. I didn't realize how stressful it was until I didn't have to fret about food and heat any more. It's one thing when it's you, but it's another when it's cute little kiddos whose hands get cold.
So there you have it. Sandy. I'll have more (hopefully soon) on the lack of Halloween and other fun stuff. Remain on the edge of your seats. And now Owen is crying, because "Where is MAMA?? She slept next to me for FOUR DAYS and now I cannot sleep without her!" So bye!
