One of those nights

The rain poured in buckets yesterday with the wind knocking the new growth of leaves and flower buds from trees and wisping limbs to the ground.  Cozy in my piano chair in the warmth of my living room, the students blew in for lessons water logged from their day at school.  Turning off the living room lights at the end of my day was the start of craziness for the next thirty minutes. My husband kissed me goodbye to hit the gym, the kids were headed to bed.

With lights flickering I told my girl to hurry in the shower and maybe we could beat the power outage and get her hair dried with the dryer.  While she's singing her shower tunes and forgetting about the hurry part, my son and I were chatting and getting backpacks unloaded with our dog running crazily under our feet; excited that we were all home.  Meeting up in my bathroom with jammies on and teeth brushed, I started drying my girl's hair.  When all of a sudden my son came screaming at the top of his lungs into my room; shutting off the dryer I hear our house alarm going off.

Sigh.  Knowing it is not a real intruder, I rush down the stairs to turn it off.  My dog is barking, my kids are arguing because they both were set off guard at the panic, and neither enjoy the ear piercing sound of our alarm, nor the computer-lady talking through the speaker, but they are trying to be brave, and the result is both getting mad at the other for being mad.  Make sense?  Not really, but it happens among siblings.

Coming back up the stairs I try to get us back to the happy place, but first have to help orchestrate the lesson learned and apologies from both children to each other; all while carrying on this heavy speech impediment due to my lovely new retainer. As a result of my lack of being able to form words correctly and be understood clearly, respect for my teacher role is just so-not-being-taken-seriously by the children, but at least some laughter ensues, and a few minutes later we seem to be under control.

As I am tucking in my son, I hear what sounds like the outside garage door being opened.  Trying to stay calm and hoping they didn't hear what I hear, I tell the kids that I am going to check the laundry downstairs.  The dog follows and starts barking.  The kids pick up that something isn't right, as the wind is knocking and rain is pelting sideways on their bedroom windows.  I listen to the inside garage door and hear someone in the garage.  Now it was my turn to freak.

I quickly locked the door and set the house alarm.  The noise continues.  My husband could not be home already, he left just 15 minutes ago.  Or was it him?  I knock on the door.  No answer.  The garage is quiet.  I call my husband's cell phone.  No answer.  I hear noise on the side of our house.  Great, did this person exit to my backyard?  Calling my husband again, keeping calm and telling my children every things fine, I begin to doubt ... until ...

My husband is trying to get into the house.  I yell his name to be sure it was him, the kids are panicking, and he answers from the other side of the door.  I unlock the door and he comes in surprised at the look on my face; one of not being too happy.  Trying to describe my last fifteen minutes produces a laugh from him too ... you got it ... I take out my retainer, and then reexplain my last fifteen minutes (I begin to wonder if I've been punk'd by my orthodontist).

My husband didn't have much of an evening either; he doesn't remember even setting the alarm (let alone setting it incorrectly so that any wrong motion inside the house would set it off), while he was driving in the darkened storm he had to swerve in the street for a guy walking on the side, get stopped in energy crew traffic because lights were out, and then get to the gym to find they have closed because of power failure due to the storm.  Coming home with out a work out, a stressed client chatting on his cell phone, while taking out the garbage cans in the pouring rain, to being locked out of his own house, to finding his kids panicked, and his wife speech impaired ... just one of those nights.

We all called it a day and went to bed.