January 4, 2010 – Write From Karen

I woke up this morning with a start. What was that annoying beeping sound?

Oh. My alarm. I hadn’t recognized it because I haven’t had to use it for the past ten days.

I sat up, stretched, yawned and them remembered – we got snow.

A lot of snow. As in, over four inches of snow.

The roads were covered. The roads were hard to drive on.

Did this mean school would be canceled today?

I threw back the covers and headed toward my computer. I switched it on and went to make myself a cup of coffee. I heard my computer’s Windows start up jingle play as I poured half a bag of sugar into my bitter, now sweet, brew. (Okay, maybe not half a bag – more like a fourth of a bag. Stop splitting hairs).

I opened up a Firefox browser window and took a sip of my steaming hot brew.

My window was taking much too long to load, so I got up and went over to open the shades in my husband’s office. This would allow me to gaze outside from my computer chair.

I sat back down, cupped my mug between my cold palms once more and stared out into the darkness – would the kids be out of school today?

Kevin and I had gone grocery shopping yesterday and the roads hadn’t seemed that bad. But then again, we were in a 4×4 pick up truck – nothing really seems insurmountable when you’re in a pick up truck.

But we did see a few cars that had slid off the road and were parked on the side at awkward angles. They were dark and abandoned.

I heard that our side of town, the south side, actually got more than the north side of town.

Naturally.

I took a sip of my coffee and turned my attention back to my computer.

I’m usually the last person who wishes school to be out. After all, that’s one more day closer to having to extend the bloody school year and THAT is not something I’m keen to do – at all.

But … the temperatures were frigid (it was a balmy SIX degrees this morning) and I got to thinking about all of those poor children who would be forced to stand out in frigid weather while waiting for their buses. And all of the traffic jams and likely accidents due to our hazardous roads and I soon convinced myself that there would simply be no way that school would be in session today.

I took a few moments to focus on the Google logo before I immediately clicked over to the school district’s website to see if I would be braving the elements to take the kids to school.

The first thing that caught my attention when the site loaded was this big, yellow box that clearly stated: “Springfield Public Schools ARE IN SESSION for Monday, January 4, 2010.”

Crap, I muttered. (Actually, I think I muttered something different, something more along the lines of excrement, but not nearly as nice).

I suddenly dreaded waking the boys up. Though they have long since given up HOPING that school would be canceled (it really takes an act of God to close them), I know they still harbored that small sliver.

Alas. It was not meant to be.

Part of me was relieved – we didn’t have to use up a snow day. Part of me was annoyed – didn’t they realize how freaking INCONVENIENT it was going to be for so many people?

But real life is, well, real.

I woke the boys up.

They were sluggish, grumpy, but not really surprised, I think. They went about their morning routine and I went out at 7:10 to warm my car up knowing full well that as cold as it was, it STILL wouldn’t be warm enough by the time 7:25 came around and it was time for us to leave.

However, my knight in shining armor came to my rescue. Kevin offered to take the boys in his truck.

I declined. And the reason I declined was because the last time we had inclement weather and he offered to take the boys, I agreed. Only the boys didn’t get ready fast enough for him and he got really annoyed, and that irritated me because would it KILL the man to alter his schedule even five minutes and we ended up getting into an argument that bled over into the evening and I really didn’t want to go through that again.

But Kevin insisted. Now that his job is coming to an end, he’s a lot more relaxed about the time he arrives at work.

The world will now NOT come to an end if he shows up at 8:02.

He took the boys. And I puttered around, somewhat lost, because my own routine had been broken and it was WEIRD not taking having to take the boys since I’ve done it for the past 12 years and will continue to do it for the next three.

The time for school arrived and I began to fret. Did they make it okay? They didn’t have any problems, did they? Was Jazz able to get out of Kevin’s (extended cab) truck okay with his saxophone case? I suddenly had visions of him tumbling out of the truck, landing on his face and the saxophone case crushing his legs.

Yes. I really do think like this. It’s the curse of an over active imagination.

I forced myself to calm down. Nothing happened. Everything was fine.

And then I heard an ambulance siren. Which is really weird to hear in a snow-covered, muffled world.

And then our local newspaper, who I follow on Twitter, tweeted about an accident on the highway.

So, I called Kevin on his cell phone.

It went to voice mail. It never goes to voice mail because if Kevin can answer, he will. He’s really good about that.

So, I started thinking, “Great. He must not be able to answer his phone.” And on the tail of that thought came another, “He’s lying in the road, bleeding to death and the kids are watching, feeling helpless and will be scarred for the rest of their lives.”

I called his office. No answer.

I emailed him.

Nothing.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of running even more horrific scenes through my head, one after the other, Kevin emails me.

Will call you,,, in meeting

Well thank God, the man was alive.

My husband knows me. He knows I worry and he made the effort to send that email even though he was in the middle of a meeting.

You can see why I adore him.

He called me a short time later – all was well. He got the kids off to school without incident and though he saw a few cars off the side of the road on his way to work, he didn’t have any problems.

My family was safe. I could breathe.