There was a severe thunderstorm that went through, the third one we’ve experienced in this new house. This was the first one that we weathered without my husband.
It lasted about twenty minutes.
I got a text message from an old friend making sure we were safe.
Then another from my sweet mother-in-law.
I called my mom and talked to her a bit, calming my nerves.
“I’m staying calm so that Aedan stays calm.”
I’ve had a true love/hate relationship with storms since I was young.
I grew up in Fort Lewis, Washington. We had storms, rain storms. I don’t have many memories of anything scary. In fact, I only can recall one vivid memory of a lightning strike that scared me to death. Our hail was more like snow and it happened fairly often, but rarely with any serious weather threat associated with it.
Moving to Evansville, Indiana was almost like a culture shock.
No, it was a weather shock.
For the first time in my memory, weather was associated with danger.
I learned about lightning that could strike and injure, kill, cut the lights, or in all of its danger beautifully shoot across the sky. It’s hard to argue against that beauty.
Deadly and beautiful.
Once I got quite a bit older, I tried to stop hiding under blankets in the basement crying or breathing so hard I should have passed out. I would bravely put on a front and stand on the porch with my mom, occasionally bursting through the front door back inside fearfully.
My mom reassures me that it’s what I have to do as a mom, teach him to remain calm during the storms. I know it is my job as mom to remain calm and teach him respect, appreciation, and understanding.
The storm reminds me of this lesson in motherhood.
He is a sponge, and what we put out, he absorbs and will eventually when pushed to his limit put out too. Parenthood requires some introspection