Lately

It's Wednesday, which means, time for another blizzard.



Let's shake things up a bit and make this a Nor'easter, shall we?



We walk the snowy, ice laden street of our neighborhood and the twins are (understandably) captivated by the icicles. They are incredible--many of them don't even look real. "Elsa (from "Frozen") made that!" Harry observes.


Today, I was the mom who brought three kids to the wine shop (remember, it's the day before the blizzard).

Hey, at least I didn't t bring all four.


Grandma and Grandpa sent us a box of art supplies, fueling our fire for watercolors.


Harry might be a bit more interested in the "water" part of watercolors.


Leo diligently addressed all his valentines this weekend. He proclaimed every female in his class his "girlfriend."


Lucy and Harry have fallen in love with Leo's bed (his room is on the main floor of our house and since it also holds the Lego table it's pretty much everyone's favorite place). They can often be found snuggling and "sleeping," until they are found, upon which they dissolve into fits of giggles. They better not be getting any big ideas about big kid beds. I guess they didn't get the memo: They will be in cribs until they are thirty, as all good children should be.





I have a new favorite quote, which I'm hoping will carry me through just about anything:





Peace.

I'm Dreaming of a Non-White, Actual Halloween

Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of Hurricane Sandy. For the past two years, we've had two major, life altering (at least temporarily, for us, thank goodness) storms on the same day. You can't blame me for perhaps hiding under the bed for most of October 29, 2013, right?

So far, the weather report for the next few days is good. And if all goes well, in a few days we'll celebrate our first Halloween since 2010.


Halloween, 2010. Ellie was three. Leo was six (and little did anyone know-including me-I was pregnant with twins). But look at these two! Look. How. Little.

In 2011, we lost power for five days and Halloween was cancelled by an unusually early in the season snow storm, which landed us in a hotel twenty miles from home with five month old twins (who unbeknownst to us had double ear infections, ask me how much fun THAT was). I remember on Halloween night that year, the hotel manager cheerily telling us there was a nice little residential neighborhood a few blocks away where we could take the kids to Trick or Treat. Just...no. Then there was the little Halloween party we'd planned. And the refrigerator full of food that went spoiled. And as the blizzard raged on outside our living room window (and the power went out), Ellie's sad little four year voice quivering, "Why isn't anyone coming to our party?"

Last year on Halloween, with our area still reeling from the after-effects of Sandy, our town put out an APB that trick or treating was strictly prohibited. This proved to not be that difficult to enforce since we had no electricity, (therefore no street lamps), heat or hot water and several giant trees were down all over our neighborhood. School was closed all week, so those parties were cancelled. We did, as a family, have a little at home celebration the weekend after our power was restored, but let's face it, dressing up at home doesn't have quite the same cache as school.



It might sound silly, but I'd been hesitant to get my hopes up about Halloween this year. And let's face it, TWO storms in TWO years on the same day? You might be a little uneasy too.



But yesterday, feeling confident and celebratory, we dug out the Halloween costumes. I had two tucked away that I thought would work for Harry and Lucy (no spoilers-you'll see them after the big day). For some reason I saved the twins' costumes from last year, which they did wear, as they paraded up and down our driveway before feasting on Munchkins--yes, that was our eventual family Halloween party, somewhere around November 9, I believe.


Harry's old bee suit was laughably snug on Lucy. But don't tell her (and yes, she insisted on trying it on and keeping it on in an insistent manner that only Lucy possesses)..

I'd forgotten about the stinger.

We are SO ready. Halloween 2013. Bring it. But can we keep our heat and power this year?

According to the Girl With the Yellow Head

After more than a few days above sixty degrees, after a bounty of daffodils and tulips and forsythia and an explosion of cherry blossoms and plum blossoms and I-don't-know-what-they're-called-blossoms, I hereby declare, spring has finally arrived (here).

She turned to the sunlight 
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
"Winter is dead."
-A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young

Good weather can make people kinder, more generous.

Have you noticed this?

"In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt."
-Margaret Atwood, Bluebeard's Egg

Just ask Harry about the dirt. He is our in-house Dirt Expert.

Spring means the return of dining al fresco.

Goldfish just taste better outside, don't you agree?

The view from inside isn't bad.

The company is pretty good too.

"When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people, and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness, except for the very few that were as good as spring itself."
-Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Snow Day(s)

The snow started falling on Friday morning: tiny, fast flakes. By afternoon the roads were getting dicey and it was definitely sticking.

By evening it was a confirmed and beautiful blizzard. "Look Mommy!" Ellie squealed, "It's a Winter Wonderland!" (Earlier in the day I overheard Ellie asking Leo if he was "Gonna freak out if we lost power"--yes, she was full of zingers on Friday).

When it was all over (it snowed for about twenty-four hours straight), we had about sixteen inches.

Snow rendered the usually gutsy and outspoken Lucy quite...irritated. The funny thing is, this snowsuit is a hand-me-down from Ellie and I have pictures of her at around the same age with nearly the identical expression of disgust. Ah, sisters.

Harry was much more game about the snow business. Here he is attempting to stand and ending up...doing a sort of variation on splits. It was just impossible for these two to do much of anything.

Erin had the best idea of all, which was to take the twins (and the big kids) for a walk around the neighborhood since our backyard was just one big snow drift (probably three feet high in snow, in some places). By Saturday afternoon most of the sidewalks were shoveled and semi-clear and Harry and Lucy reveled in the novelty of walking the streets, free from the shackles of the stroller. There was enough snow that they were still hesitant and therefore weren't taking off at their usual breakneck speeds.

If you asked Lucy, I think she'd be most excited about the fact that the weekend snow storm forced me to seek out my boot stash and lo and behold I found this little pink pair (again, Ellie hand-me-down). Lucy is now seen, most often, clomping around the house, always with the one boot. She loves her boots.

It takes a lot of outerwear and organization to get all these people out the door and warm.

By Sunday, the roads were clear enough to head into the city where we took Harry and his big brown eyes (and the rest of the family) out for brunch.

Fearless Babies and Frigid Temperatures

It was so cold here this morning (11 degrees) that I spilled coffee on my coat and it literally froze. The good news is, this frigid cold air appears to be excellent hair weather (it's a dry cold!), so, yay?

This was last week. Before it became January with a capital J.

We had a nice, long weekend. I firmly believe all weekends should be three days long, especially when one baby decides to rise at 9:30 on a Friday night screaming, feverish and pukey. Yes, poor Lucy was awake and miserable most of Friday night and into Saturday.

Of course by 5 a.m. Saturday  morning, she was snoring. Albeit, briefly and on my lap.

By Monday, Lucy had recovered. Strangely enough, no one would let me watch the inauguration (I snuck peeks as I switched the channels during some after breakfast "My Little Pony" most annoying show ever viewing). Leo did take great pleasure in marching around the house and saying "Obama! Not Mitt Romney!" (in case there was any question where his politics lie).

Leo is a Democrat, meanwhile Harry? Is just a really messy eater.

After lunch I had to get everyone out of the house (mostly me). Thankfully it was in the balmy 30s, the frigid temperatures hadn't hit yet so we headed to the park. My phone was being cranky so I don't have any good pictures of that outing. I know I sound like a broken record on this topic but it's just incredible to me how much the twins are changing from week to week. We went to this same playground three weeks ago with the grandparents and the babies were more tentative, fell down more, needed more hand-holding and steadying. On Monday? Harry somehow got his little meatball thighs up and over the "Recommended for age 2 and Up" steps and scaled the spiral slide, headfirst. Lucy followed close behind.

Taking all four of them to the park by myself is...exhilarating. I don't worry about Ellie and Leo is fairly trustworthy, but the babies? They literally toddle off in opposite directions. There's a constant need to weigh who's in more danger? Who's closer to falling off the side of the play structure or getting a little too close to the open gate. Letting them "go rogue" at the park is exhausting, more mentally but physically. But I liken it to going on a good, long run or writing something I'm especially proud of. I feel compelled to do it, kind of dread it, but once I've done it? I'm so glad I did. And seeing their little faces when they're "set free?" The best. And worth all the stress and mental anguish (ha ha).

The back yard (fully fenced) is admittedly, much more relaxing and toddler-friendly then the wide expanse of the park. While Lucy recuperated on Saturday and Sunday, Leo, Ellie, Harry and I had some fun out there (One baby? Easy peasy! Where's the challenge in That?). 

I probably hover more than I should (as much as I can, with two), always certain am I that when someone falls it will be on their head, in the worst possible way. Maybe in some ways, the good thing (one of the many!) about having two babies is you simply can't always be in two places at once, forcing the babies to be a little more independent, self-confident and self-reliant than they might be if there was just one of them. Also it forces mommy to not be such a helicopter.

Even Ellie noticed the twins' progress in beginning to master the intricacies of the dreaded  deck stairs (big! steep!). Ellie observed: "Harry can go up and down the stairs! He's like a teenager!"

Inside, it's warm and cozy. I won't even go into Lucy's new flirtation with "High chair? Who needs a high chair?"


That grin. Clearly, she is not to be trusted.

Sandy's Lessons: Tales From Our "Prairie" Life

I'm pretty sure Ellie meant to write "Harry," not "Hammy" (although he is that). This is evidence of one of the many, many Hurricane Sandy-Power Outage creations. For days and days, our kitchen table looked like a scrap booker and an artist went on a wild bender. Hey, what else is there to do without Disney Jr. and PBS Kids?

It's only been a week since our power has been restored and already it feels like all of that dark and cold was a lifetime ago. This morning I self-indulgently cranked the heat to seventy, threw a load of lights in the washing machine and simultaneously ran the dishwasher. Because I could.

Only a week ago this was a mere fantasy. Did I tell you at one point during the power outage I actually dreamed about doing laundry (to be fair, it was almost waste-high in our laundry room. Hey, that's what you get when you don't do laundry for six people in ten days. Not pretty.)

And yes, I am still in love with technology and all of its conveniences.

I don't miss much about our ten day experiment with the prairie life. I don't miss the cold or having to quickly fetch milk or melting frozen pizza from the cooler stored in the mudroom before Harry and Lucy could come padding in to spill the dog's water or play in the kibble. In case you're wondering, the only reason we stored the cooler in the mudroom was because a certain toddler boy learned to climb and stand on said cooler (we dubbed this Cooler Surfing) which we deemed unsafe, especially in the dark. Yes, this is my life.

No, I don't miss bundling the babies in four layers plus a sleep sack and then lying in bed, wide awake at 2 a.m. thinking I heard a cry, convinced they were cold. Nope, sure don't.

Speaking of waking cold, I'm pretty sure Harry was. I don't think it's a coincidence that most mornings after we lost power, Harry was up between 4:30 and 5 a.m. In normal (i.e. heated) circumstances, I've been known to let a baby whine and fuss when they have the gall to wake so early. But when the upstairs is hovering around fifty-five degrees (which I realize doesn't sound all that cold but trust me it is), well, it just didn't seem right.

Which brings me to coffee. No, I don't miss how we were forced to make coffee in those days without power. I would creep downstairs in the dark with Harry and with one hand I boiled water on the stove (lit with a match), then poured it through our coffee pot. It worked well, except for the fact that obviously it didn't keep the coffee warm and, well, when your downstairs is fifty degrees, let's just say things cool down quickly. But at 4:30 a.m.? Coffee is not optional.

One morning, I woke to Harry's cries and stumbled into the babies' room to fetch him before he could wake Lucy (if there's anything worse than one baby awake before sunrise, it's two babies awake before sunrise). I brought him to the bathroom, where Erin was showering and where I knew the steam would warm us both. Erin and I chatted briefly, and before we knew it, Leo and Ellie were both also in the bathroom too. Apparently Harry's cries had awakened them. I glanced at the clock: 4:45 a.m. and three out of four kids were up. Man, it was going to be a long day.

"Are we in hell?" I asked Erin.
"Pretty sure, yes," she replied, poking her head out of the shower, briefly.
But we were both laughing.

So maybe it will surprise you to learn that there are plenty of things I do miss about our little break from life on the grid.

1. No Distractions: I didn't realize how much housework takes me away from time with the kids until my ability to load the dishwasher, do laundry or cook anything more complicated than boiling water for pasta or heating pizza on the stove top, was taken away. Aside from trying to keep up with the dishes (admittedly, hand washing the dishes is tedious but since we were blessed with hot water it was a welcome way to keep warm) and trying to clean up toys from the floor before sunset every night, there wasn't much housework to be done. And since my phone was in a constant state of near-death since it rarely got fully charged (I charged my phone in the car before Erin left for work every morning which takes forever --see: never full charged) I couldn't really text anyone, email or partake much in the mother of all Mom Distractions: Facebook. It felt...liberating.


No joke, this photo was taken at around 5:30 a.m. Nothing to do at that hour in the dark but draw (by flashlight of course)!

2. Break from Technology: We warned Leo and Ellie that the power could go out before the storm (of course, little did we know...). Their first question was about the TV. The prospect that they might not have it seemed shocking. For the first few hours, they were in denial. Leo kept trying to turn it on. But by the next morning, it was not even discussed. Out came the pens and crayons and water colors. The kitchen table became Command Central for The Great Artfest of Hurricane Sandy. Ellie made paper dolls and paper fairies and paper princesses. Leo drew seventeen different versions of Spider Man and at least fourteen different renditions of the solar system. We don't let them watch a ton of television but they certainly watch it. It's not like they don't normally draw and color often, but when TV is taken completely off the table and it's not even an option? It's a no brainer that activities are going to get more creative (see above: liberating). It wasn't just art. As I mentioned before, there were many complex games involving fixing toys and dress-up and playing school.

3. Closeness: When it's cold and dark at 7:45, there isn't much to do but crawl into bed and snuggle to keep warm. Even when she was still eating dinner, Ellie would ask me "When are we going to go upstairs to cuddle?" We settled into a nighttime routine early on. As soon as the babies were down and dinner was over, I took the big kids upstairs (once it got dark we traveled as a pack-remind me to tell you the story of the first night of no power when Leo freaked out--he is not a fan of the dark) and turned on the hot shower in the bathroom for a little warmth so they could change into their pajamas. Then we'd climb into our bed (we had the kids sleep with us to keep warm). And Leo and Ellie would be snoring by 7:55. Side note: It was during one of these snuggle sessions that Ellie piped up the words that will go down in family history: "Leo! I can feel your tushy!"

That's when I would sneak out of bed to go downstairs and to clean up (I use that term loosely--there's only so much cleaning one can do by candlelight). Clean-up time usually involved a glass or two of wine. Like I said: those were some loooong days. That was some well-earned wine.

4. Life on Hold: I really don't think I'm cut out to be a stay at home mom but I have to say I really enjoyed that week home with the kids, when the trains and buses stopped and my office closed and New York City nearly ground to a halt. And when I say home I mean home. We have one car, which Erin took to work (poor thing worked before dawn to well after dusk in those frenzied, post-Sandy days) so there were few places to go. We took a lot of neighborhood walks. There was our infamous trip to the Red Cross Shelter. I referred to my week home with the kids as Extreme Parenting, because not only were we living without a lot of basic comforts (heat, electricity) but home with four kids for seven straight days and no television? I am here to tell you: It can be done. That morning three out of four kids were up at 4:30 a.m. (I still get chills writing that) I read the kids books by flashlight. I know! Once the sun came up and it was light enough, Leo and I played catch with his little foam ball.

5. The constant reminder that if you don't laugh at the situation, you might cry (not that there is anything wrong with crying). One morning I had the brilliant plan to warm the babies' bedroom before their morning nap, with steam from the shower. I carefully closed all the bedroom doors upstairs and turned the water in the babies' shower on hot and high. Ten minutes later our neighbor came over to check on us. That's when all three upstairs smoke alarms went off at the same time (apparently the steam combined with the cold air and set off the alarms). I've never seen Leo turn a whiter shade of white, poor guy. In other news, it seems I'm not a Girl Scout, after all.

That time at home with the kids in the cold and dark was intense, exhausting, ridiculous, frustrating and often  hilarious (at least, in retrospect). And as I have been telling almost anyone who will listen: I am now pretty sure I can do almost anything.

***

Last night as I stood, wiping down the counter in our obscenely bright kitchen, watching Ellie eat the last few bites of spaghetti and feeling suddenly oddly nostalgic about how just a week ago it would have been close to "cuddle time," I asked Ellie if she liked it better with the power on or off.

"Off," she replied, with instant certainty.

"Really? Why?" I asked, assuming she'd mention the thrill of sleeping in our bed for ten straight nights or missing a week of school.

"Because it was an adventure!" she said.

And isn't that the truth.

The Eventual Halloween

For the second year in a row, Halloween in our neighborhood (heck, I think in our whole state if not the entire region) was cancelled due to a major weather event. This year of course, it was Hurricane Sandy, which hit on October 29. There was no trick or treating on the actual day, no school parties or parades, period.

Oh sure, trick or treating was rescheduled. In our town it was last Monday. When we were still without power. I wasn't about to bundle the kids up in freezing temperatures and walk through a dark neighborhood, nor was I about to answer the door to trick or treaters without a porch light. Honestly that's Leo favorite part, handing out the candy. Ellie, on the other hand, doesn't play. She is all about the getting of the candy. She was not happy at the news that there would be no trick or treating.

Part of me just wanted to forget the whole dang thing. Just the sight of Halloween decorations has semi-bad connotations for me at this point. Bright and early on November 1, Leo and Ellie and I efficiently packed up all the Halloween accouetrement: gone were the witch and ghost figurines from the mantel, adios to the pumpkin garland and candy corn collages.

Let's make Turkeys and hang them all over the house! I practically shrieked, so ready was I to Put Halloween Behind Us. The other day I joked to Erin that I'm going to need doggy tranquilizers next October 31, so fearful am I of Another Spooky Major Weather Event. Third time's a charm?

This year's "official" Halloween (unbeknownst to the kids) was spent changing the radio station and the subject when the newscaster announced it was Halloween (Ellie didn't miss a beat and asked, "It's Halloween today Mommy? Are we going trick or treating?).

Later I did my best to maintain normalcy: We went to the playground and wandered around the neighborhood (anything to keep four stir crazy kids out of the dark, cold house for a few hours). The "highlight" of our day ended up being an impromptu field trip to the local Red Cross Shelter, where the kids ate chips and Cheerios and I was able to charge my cell phone (at first they weren't going to let me, saying the power needed to be conserved for the phones belonging to first responders). I was gracious about it and didn't argue but the gentleman in charge insisted that a woman with four children and no cell phone certainly constituted an emergency (I'll say! No Facebook? No Words With Friends?). KIDDING.

Well, thankfully, life has mostly gone back to normal for us. Unfortunately, Ellie was not taking my lead about the decision to do our best to ignore Halloween this year. She kept asking about trick or treating, kept asking when we were going to have our party (for the record, we were not having a Halloween party but that didn't stop her). I had explained several times that due to the storm it wasn't safe to trick or treat and she understood that. But the power came back on, the streets were cleared of trees and debris. And so her question, understandably, persisted: When are we going trick or treating?

That's when it dawned on me. All the kids really wanted to do was wear their costumes and get some candy.

I know! I exclaimed, not quite sure where I was going with my idea, I just knew that if I had to explain to Ellie one more time...

How about, you dress up in your costumes and you knock on OUR door and we give YOU candy?

Unanimous grins all around.

And that's why Halloween 2012 will be remembered as the Year We Trick or Treated At Our Own House.

And the nice thing about having four kids is you always have an instant party. We didn't even need to invite anyone for it to feel festive. The big kids put on their costumes. We got to dress the babies in their first Halloween costumes and take the proverbial ten thousand pictures. The kids ran around in the sixty-two degree weather (why yes, two weeks ago we had a hurricane! Of course!).

Don't ask me why I felt the need to have Munchkins and apple cider (which I of course forgot to serve) in addition to the Three Musketeers, Milky Way, Twix and M&Ms we still had left over, due to the whole, no Trick or Treaters thing.

I told Ellie she could eat as much candy as she wanted but it would be gone the next day. And like any well-adjusted kid, she ate so much she almost made herself sick, but stopped just short. Later she reported she was going to "Just eat tambourines, because they don't make my stomach feel so yucky."

For the record, she meant tangerines.

You Knew It Would End Well

Our street this morning.

The snow started falling yesterday around noon, small, wet flakes blown sideways by the Nor'easter's powerful winds.

Perfect, I thought to myself. Not only do I need to leave work early to avoid the parking lot of the turnpike, but it will be an even colder night, thanks to the storm's high winds and blowing snow. All made that much more painful, due to that small detail of no power at our house.

***

The walk from the bus to my house took twice as long as usual. The snow had accumulated quickly, making the sidewalks slick and treacherous. I could barely see-it was almost white out conditions and the snow was blowing straight into my face. At one point my glasses were so coated with snow I had to take them off and clean them.

Normally, I would feel festive: The first snow of the season! I got to leave work early! I'd come home to a cozy house in time to make a nice, comforting dinner, maybe some kind of stew (if I were the kind of person who made stew). But no. I knew I was coming home to a cold, dark house. The scramble to get everything picked up in time for darkness would begin, the rush to consider dinner and its few simple ingredients. In no time the house would go from gray, to purple to black. The twins would get lost behind a stairwell or an end table "Where's Harry? Where's Lucy?" A diaper would need to be changed, by flashlight, and then the bundling of four layers would ensue.

Just then a utility-truck of some kind passed me. I'd started to spot them as though some kind of mirage--could it be? A repairman? An angel? To rescue us from our darkness? Was it even real? It barreled along, its turn signal on. Where would he turn? My plan was to catch up with him, to flag him down and see where he was headed and if he had any prognosis for my street. "Sunshine State Electric" read the sign on the truck's door. As quickly as I reached him, he turned down the culdacac across the street from my house.

That's when I saw two of my neighbors, laughing and smiling. My heart raced. Could it be?

One of them spotted me.

"He said it will be about an hour and a half," she said. "He's never seen snow!" Clearly, she felt celebratory too.

I instantly loved these Florida electrical crew snow virgins. I was giddy-filled with more hope than I'd had in ten days.

Thirty minutes later, as I held Lucy in my arms and watched the men work on the street outside my picture window, the lights in my living room and kitchen flashed on, then off, then back on again. The whole house whirred back to life. Digital numbers on appliances blinked yellow, green and blue. The furnace kicked on. Leo and Ellie, in the backyard playing in the snow, rushed to the back door, clamoring to come in, pink cheeked and with enormous grins.

"Mommy! The lights are ON!" Ellie squealed. "Do we get to have our "The Electricity is Back on Party?" (I'd promised this event,  which would entail pink and chocolate frosted cupcakes and the wearing of Halloween costumes, the ones the kids never even got to wear, because of the storm).

Leo jumped up and down and flapped his arms so high he could have ascended to the second floor of the house.

Life, as we'd known, was back.

Losing It

Surveying some of Sandy's damage, October 31, 2012.

First, the disclaimer. I know we were incredibly lucky. I know there are so many people who have it worse than we do. We are lucky the structure of our home was unscathed and that no major trees came down. We have our lives, for goodness sake. Some people were not so fortunate.

But. We are on our tenth day without power. Without heat or electricity. Did I mention there is a nor'easter forecasted for this afternoon? The kicker with that? The workers who are scrambling to reinstate power to those who are still without, will have to stop once the storm hits. Not to mention the possibility that people who have power might lose it again. I think if that happened, I would just drive myself straight to the closest mental hospital. I mean, really.


Even during the day, the house doesn't seem all that light.

I want to cry. I'm wondering around in a perpetual fog and feel stretched so thin that it's as though if I stood side ways I'd be transparent. I'm not sleeping well. I lie awake and think of those cold little babies in their seven layers. My spirit feels like it's being slowly crushed. I know this is irrational but the prospect that the power will come back is starting to feel out of reach, impossible. When I hear of friends getting their power restored, I am thrilled for them and don't begrudge them their power, but I am envious. I don't think: Why them? I think, Why not them AND Us?

Erin was able to download a movie on the iPad (she had to do it in the city, our signal at home is too weak right now) the other day and it was as if the heavens had parted. By the way, according to Leo and Ellie  The Secret of the Wings is not to be missed.

One bright spot in all of this: I will admit that I sort of love not having a TV (that is of course until the kids go to bed and I want to watch My Shows--Oh wait, there's another bright spot! Think of all the TV I have saved up to watch! Weee!.) Without a television, the kids are forced to be creative. They draw, they play "Animal Hospital" and "Fix the Toys"--you should have seen Ellie making casts out of white printer paper, for all the stuffed animals. They come up with complicated scenarios: "Leo!" Ellie calls, "Let's play Fairies!" And we all know about Leo's love of dress-up. There has been plenty of that.

The only reason we are able to stay in the house is that our neighbor (who inexplicably, has power--that's another kicker, most of the houses on our street have power restored) offered to plug in an extension cord to his outlet, so we're stringing one to our electric fireplace. Of course we're not able to keep that overnight (hello, fire hazard), so it is getting very cold in our bedrooms. The daytime temperature in the house hovers around fifty-eight degrees. We wear many, many layers.


Thankfully, our gas stove works (we turn on the gas and then light it with a match). We plowed through our supply of frozen pizza in the first few days. And yes, in case you were wondering, you can heat pizza on the stovetop (see above).

Some good news? The kids finally went back to school yesterday after missing seven days. As you can imagine, we were all thrilled. I usually pack their lunches (which they prefer) but since we are dealing with some rather extraordinary circumstances, had counted on them having school lunch until life goes back to normal. Food has been tricky, we have a cooler packed with ice (which at this point seems silly--I could just save the trouble and store the food outside in the freezing temperatures.) I've been doing a little shopping every day but am certainly not in my usual Bento lunch box form.

So you can imagine my disappointment when I got the email from the school district yesterday afternoon saying there would be no school lunch available today.

In the end, I was able to cobble together two passable lunches. I think I will always remember Election Night 2012 as the one in which  I listened to the returns on the radio and packed lunches by candle light, while I dined on Cheese Nips and wine. Try not to be jealous.

Last night Poor Erin got caught in hours of traffic coming home. Why? Because there was a downed wire on the turnpike. Of course there was. It feels like the End Of Days around here lately. Like, if it can go wrong, it will.

I keep thinking how easy life will feel once we get power back. But I did not need this reminder of how wonderful modern conveniences are (I already loved my dish washer and practically want to make out with my extra large HE washer and dryer). That reminds me. The laundry that has accumulated? Oh my goodness. It is epic.

"Why do we have to go to school?" Ellie asked this morning. "There's no power."

I explained to her that while we still don't have power, her school does. "It will be warm at school! And there will be lights!" I practically cheered. Lights and heat! Imagine the novelty.

"But why don't WE have power?" she asked.

Yes, it could be so much worse.

But I'm still waiting for it to get better.

I called our town mayor today. I call the electric company every day. I wish I had a good answer. If you'll forgive the pun, I feel so incredibly powerless.