max

awe [aw] –noun
1. an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, fear, etc., produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful, or the like
2. Archaic . power to inspire fear or reverence.
3. Obsolete . fear or dread.

awe·some [aw-suhm] –adjective
1. inspiring awe
2. showing or characterized by awe.

The other night, we had a truly [awesome] thunderstorm.  The kind of storm that makes you fascinated and fearful all at the same time.  It started out slow earlier in the day.  The clouds spit a little on the pollen-covered cars and sidewalks.  We had been hoping for at least one decent shower to wash all the pollen out of the air and off the cars.  My poor silver car has been a gross, dusty tie-dyed display of silver and puke green.

A few spits and that was that.

Until dinner.

We heard the rumbles in the distance.  Distant thunder makes my heart happy.  The low growling of Mother Nature and she prepares to scrub everything clean.  Like a lioness growling softly as she bathes her young.  The raindrops pattered then fell steadily on our roof.  I peeked out the window and watched, happily, as the pollen ran off my car in streams.

The dog is terrified of thunderstorms unfortunately.  I wonder sometimes if he was born during one given his complete irrational fear of all things related to rain and thunder.  He cowers and shakes, climbs on top of the couch, tries to crawl under the couch, under the bed, under Olivia’s crib.  Anywhere he can hide where he feels remotely protected and there is no amount of shushing and consoling and petting we can do to help him.  We try every time, though.  Stephen usually puts a big blanket by the bed or in the closet or in the bathroom and covers Max in it, which he seems to appreciate.

Baby bedtime commenced and went off without a hitch.  It wasn’t storming too badly, so Stephen and I played a little War.craft before calling it a night.  The rain had picked up a little in speed and the thunder was getting louder.

Olivia woke up, as per usual, around 1am.  I pulled myself out of bed, having only fell asleep talking to Stephen a mere hour before.  She was standing in her crib, waiting, tiredly speaking her new “nanananananana” noise when she wants nursing.  Sleepily, I gathered her up and we went out to the living room to rock and nurse in the dark.  Max was pacing back and forth from the bedroom to the living room, trying to find a Safe Place.

The rain grew in intensity in pretty much five minutes.  Roaring on our roof.  Unphased, Olivia nursed on and sleepily popped off and sucked on her pacifier for a moment.

Suddenly.

LIGHT FLARE

CRACK BOOM

You ever seen lightning and then heard the crack of thunder [immediately] afterwards?  The whole, “It’s right above the house.” thing?

That.

I jumped and instinctively held Olivia tighter.  She startled and looked at me with wide eyes as if gauging my reaction to see how she should react.  I started stroking her arm and shushing her and telling her about the storm and how we were fine.

Inside, my heart was pounding and I’m sure she could feel it.

Max.  I’m surprised he didn’t have a heart attack.  He immediately tried to get under my glider, which made rocking very difficult.  He managed to squirm under the glider and behind it between it and the corner it’s tucked into.  Stephen came out of the bedroom at my request and put a blanket on him and then proceeded to unplug everything in the house in case it happened again.

It took us an hour and half to get everyone settled again.  Olivia was unsettled and would cry anytime we put her in the crib.  Unfortunately, she won’t cosleep anymore or I would have brought her to bed immediately.  She gets in bed with us now and is all, “OMG A BOUNCEHOUSE!”  So it was a lot of tag-team rocking and shushing…

The dog kept trying to get into her room, which made things worse.  So we put up the baby gate to the hallway and he tried to climb it.  So we put up the gate in our room and shut our door and he tried to get out of it.  Finally, he squeezed himself between Stephen’s side of the bed and Stephen’s nightstand and laid there trembling for who knows how long.

Meanwhile I’m in bed silently freaking out that my baby is on the other side of the house and something could happen.

Stephen is on his side of the bed, petting and talking to the dog, trying to get him to stay put and to calm down.

Then the power went out.

And came back on twenty minutes later.

I think we all fell asleep around 3.30am.