My parents watched the girls tonight, along with my niece and nephew, so that Liam and I could have dinner with my sister and brother-in-law. We didn’t realize that some bad weather had begun until we headed outside at the end of our evening together to pick up the girls and bring them home.
While we were inside having dinner, and later playing boardgames and laughing so hard I cried and slightly peed my pants—can laughter bring on labor?—about an inch of snow had covered the cars. Strong winds were causing what little snow had fallen to blow all around us. As we were driving to my parents’ house, I expressed to Liam that the snow didn’t really concern me. Our new van has AWD. It’s the potentially crazy other drivers on the road, and the whipping wind that disturb me. “How so?” he asked.
And then I told him, in my dark mind’s eye, I visualize a jagged piece of lumber or wood, roughly eight inches to two-feet long, being picked up from its resting spot on someone’s fireplace pile, or pick-up bed, and hurling itself, propelled by the wind, toward our car an ninety miles an hour, with enough force to shatter a front windshield or side window, crushing whatever may lie in its path, my family included. It was enough to make me wonder whether we should just sleep at my parents’ and avoid risking the girls’ lives in the storm.
As usual, he assured me I was overthinking things. We would sleep in our own bed. The weather was not that bad. The girls would be fine. No wood would be flying about.
We picked up the girls from an evening of ice cream and Oreos and fun time spent with cousins and grandparents. The drive home was uneventful, unless you count the barking of song requests that came from the nearly four-year-old in the back seat the entire thirty-minute ride.
No one was injured. And we are all sleeping in our own, big, collective bed. Happy Valentine’s Day!