In like a lion

Like thousands of our neighbors, we lost power Friday thanks to a powerful nor’easter — proving the old saying about March: in like a lion, (hopefully) out like a lamb.

I’m something of a weather nut, if that hasn’t been expressed clearly over the years. I once dreamed of becoming a meteorologist, and logged the hours scanning Doppler radar and geeking out over The Weather Channel — back when it was just matter-of-fact reports and cut-ins from hurricane-ravaged areas — all day.

Though I eventually gave up on my dream of chasing tornadoes or reporting on weather, my need to know what’s happening outside my door — preferably without exiting said door — has stayed intact. All sorts of smartphone apps exist to keep one continuously in the loop, and I check them diligently.

Except last week, apparently. It was a busy one for my family and at work, and I didn’t pay much attention to the forecast. There was talk of wind on Friday, of course — but “wind gusts” can mean many things. I had no concerns until my phone started buzzing with severe weather alerts on Thursday, and by then? It was almost too late.

I can sleep through a thunderstorm. Lightning is creepy, but nothing that keeps an exhausted mother up at night. But wind? Our house backs up to a dense forest, and the sound of the tree canopy rustling in the howling wind is enough to make me sleep with one eye open.

We’re no strangers to gusty winds here in Maryland. I’ve been through my share of tropical storms and hurricanes. But the towering trees outside our windows feel dangerously close when anyone so much as blows a dandelion in our direction.

The nor’easter pummeling us was terrifying. I was startled awake around 3:30 a.m. Friday by the sound of tree branches snapping off and clattering to the ground. By some miracle, we lost only one tree near the driveway.

I’m normally so tired that I don’t wake up without hearing the sounds of Oliver and Hadley stirring for a midnight snack, but the wind outside definitely freaked me out. Even screwing my eyes shut, I was terrified of what I would find at the house. It seemed like disaster was imminent.

Our power flickered for an hour or two, then finally snapped off early Friday. We have a pretty great track record of getting service restored quickly, even after large-scale disasters like this one, so I wasn’t too concerned.

But morning turned into afternoon. Six hours without “Sesame Street” or “Paw Patrol” to offer much-needed distractions? Six hours without internet or television of any kind? More importantly, six hours without heat or running water — so no showers, or dishes, or restroom visits?

Worst yet, six hours without . . . coffee?

By lunchtime I had a massive headache from the lack of caffeine and pandemonium taking place in our living room. While baby Hadley was content to play with her toys and scoot around the living room, Oliver did not understand why he couldn’t watch “Curious George” — a request he made approximately 1,000 times — or use the iPad. “It’s dark,” he said repeatedly. My husband and I tried explaining that the electricity was out because of a storm, but everything was OK and would be back to normal soon. By early afternoon, however, it was getting pretty frosty in our house — and we were all getting antsy.

At one point I went upstairs and looked out the window. A neighbor’s fallen tree had destroyed a critical stretch of powerline just a few houses down.

“That’s going to be a while,” I said to Spencer, then got anxious because he didn’t disagree.

My parents live nearby, thankfully; I invited the four of us over on Friday afternoon to try and defrost in a different setting. I monitored the situation at home with an app on my phone, and Spence fielded text messages from a neighbor with updates. There were none by early evening, so we knew we’d have to make a decision for the kids — and I was leaning toward a sleepover at Nana and Grandpa’s.

Normally I have weeks to prepare for what we’ll need to pack with two young children in tow. Instead, I had about 20 minutes after dark that evening when Spence and I returned home to check on the status of our refrigerator and hoped our small flashlights wouldn’t run out of juice.

Ollie enjoyed himself until it became clear that we weren’t leaving Nana and Grandpa’s for the night. Still, we made it through a long, restless night at my parents’ house, which was my home for 25 years. I found myself reaching for things that used to be on a shelf or tucked in the corner of a countertop — like muscle memory — before remembering.

Hadley didn’t mind the change in scenery, but Oliver was freaked out from the moment I talked about getting into pajamas . . . and definitely confused as I produced his very bedtime stories from home and tried to tuck him in.

By lunchtime Saturday, the power was restored (thank you, SMECO) and we could go home to crank up the heat and unpack from our impromptu evening away. Order was largely restored to the Johnson household — just in time to prepare for Hadley’s first birthday party this weekend.

Putting in my order for sunshine and warm breezes now. Let’s just hope the day is more lamb than lion.