Lightning Strike

I will never, never, no, not ever, be blase about lightning again.

Last night, we had a doosey of a storm. Tony had just gone to sleep at
11:30 (finally!), and I could see the flashes in the sky, no thunder.
I got up to see where they were coming from. They were to the south of
us, so I knew they were headed our way. I decided that I should stay
awake just in case the very large elms next door or the redwood on the
other side got hit. At about midnight, the storm hit us. FLASH, BOOM,
FLASH, BOOM. Isabel went berserk. Tony stirred, but as long as I was
holding his hand, he stayed asleep.

FLASH, BOOM. I could feel the concussion. That one was close, just
north of the house. There’s a funny noise, constant, like an air raid
alarm, but not so loud. A few seconds later the sky lights up with
fast moving clouds that are underlit. Hm, that’s odd. Then the sparks
are showering up. Sirens. More sirens.

The storm moved off to the northeast, and things got quiet, but it took
me a long time to calm down and go to sleep. I was afraid that
someone’s house had gone up in flames. I could smell that burned

This morning, as I’m loading the kids in the van, the neighbor girl
comes by and tells me that it was a tree that got hit and where.

It was really close, less than 100 yards. I drove by after I dropped
off the kids. The split, blackened tree lay on the ground.

When I decided to stay awake because I was concerned that the lightning
would hit the neighbors trees and we might have to move quickly, I
kinda thought I was being silly. But it could have been those elms.
It was so close. Fortunately, nothing other than the tree was damaged.
I’m still tensing up, thinking about it.

Stomp on it!

Tony is lying on the floor, happily cooing and playing, with his hands
extended in front of him.

Isabel comes up to him, yells, “Stomp on it!”, and promptly stomps on
Tony’s hand like it’s a snail.

I know she did it deliberately. I know she didn’t mean to hurt him, so
in a sense, she didn’t hurt him deliberately. Ah, the mind of a 3 year
old, exploring the concepts of cause and reaction, is a mystery. I
just wish she wouldn’t use her brother as a test subject.

He was fine. I don’t think he even cried for a minute. Isabel and I
talked about the stomping afterwards, but I have no clue if she
understands. I know she loves him, and she is the first one to react
now-adays when he starts crying. She will go hold him and comfort him.

Header off the changing table

I caught him before he hit the floor.

Tony has become quite good at rolling over. As I was putting his
diaper in the diaper pail, he decided to leap off the changing table.
On previous attempts, I was able to restrain him with my left hand. I
must have screamed; I recall shouting NOOOOO! I caught him by his
ankle just before his little head hit the floor.

I was so scared. He started to cry after I caught him, whether it was
because I was upset and had screamed or because it hurt to be caught, I
don’t know. We sat on the bed and calmed down.

This goes in my memory as the 2nd most scary thing to happen in my
life. (The first being the time I lost my 4 year old nephew at a
street fair.)

From now on, he gets all dresed and goes into the crib before I start
the cleanup.