Tornadoes are dead to me.

Last night at one in the morning, a mere two hours after the Hubs and I had snuggled into bed after a ridiculously busy weekend (More on that later...the weekend, not the snuggling. Just to be clear.) the tornado sirens went off.

I don't know how to describe what happened next without first saying two things:

1) The Hubs does not wake up well. Ever. He staggers and slurs his words and lives in nonsense for a good 5 minutes up to 3 hours upon waking from a dead sleep.

2) I am a spastic freak when it comes to storms. Like, multiply my regular crazy by 80,000 and you have me when its storming.

So you can imagine the insanity that ensued at one in the morning when the sirens went off.

I roll over in bed and frantically whisper, "HONEY! THE TORNADO SIREN IS GOING OFF!! WE HAVE GOT TO RUN FOR COVER! GET THE BABY! GET THE DOG! GET MY GLASSES! GRAB THE DIAPERS! WHERE ARE MY SHOES?!?"

To which the Hubs replied, "Huh?" "What?" "Really?" "Ok. No need to panic. Let's just go downstairs and turn on the radio."

As he is slowly giving this direction, I am running over the top of him gathering all necessary supplies and Newbie. He looks at the window and upon seeing the intensity of the lightening, follows me downstairs.

That's when I hit the kitchen for water, matches, the diaper bag, and an entire cooler full of formula.

Yes, Newbie nurses. No, I don't know why I grabbed an entire cooler of formula. The only explanation I can offer is there was a storm and I am crazy and what if the rescue workers couldn't find us for ten days?!?

After I packed up enough formula to feed an army, we put Newbie in his car seat and stared at each other as we listened to the radio. The sirens were blaring and the DJ was telling everyone in our area to take cover because we were under a tornado warning. We just froze in the middle of the house.

I wish I could say we were both thinking the same thing, but I think its safe to assume at that hour, regardless of the impending doom, the Hubs' mind was devoid of thought. Which left me alone in my thoughts: Our basement is SO GROSS. Please don't tell me I have to take my baby and my pajamaed self down to our basement. Please don't let that be true. That is where all of the critters live. And the damp lives. And the stink lives. And the inexplicable shower lives. Yes, a shower. I avoid the basement at all costs. This can't be happening! That's when I started to feel like I had to throw up, so I did what I always do when I feel like I might throw up. I called my mom. I screamed into the phone that there was a tornado and that I had to bring my baby to the basement and that the sirens were going off and that I was freaking out.

My mom pulled out the old, "Honey, its OK. Let me take a minute and see what's going on."

To which I hollered, "THERE ARE NO MINUTES!!! TAKE COVER! THE RADIO MAN JUST SAID WE HAVE TO GO TO THE BASEMENT!!!!"

At that point I was close to hysterical and the Hubs was glued to the radio...we decided we needed to get to the basement because the DJ was freaking out almost as much as I was. So we went.

And it was damp.

And stinky.

And buggy.

We pulled out two beach chairs and set up the radio on top of Opie's kennel. Newbie hung out in his car seat covered by a big pillow because I'm a thinker, and what if the ceiling caved in?

The entire time the Hubs looked at me like this was no big thing and I looked at him wanting to ask "Are you crazy??? Have you not seen the movie Twister? WHAT ARE YOU?!?!?!" That's when the radio DJ started reporting multiple funnel cloud sitings and a confirmed tornado just north of us barreling towards my parents' town.

I texted like mad and found out that my mom and sister had already taken cover in the basement with the family zoo- two cats and a dog- and Mom was vacuuming. Oh, Mom. I envied her so. No worries, just vacuuming her way through an F-5 tornado. All the while, I was in my basement watching rain water seep in through the foundation and slowly creep its way to my cooler of formula. I was in my basement hyperventilating because all I could think of was that cow I saw flying through the air on Twister. I did not want to be that cow. And my mom was at home, vacuuming. Aye caramba.

After 45 minutes in the basement wondering how on earth I became so paranoid about storms and remembering it was because I grew up in Texas playing softball under the cover of raging green funnel clouds, the DJ gave us the all clear. The Hubs grabbed Opie, I grabbed Newbie, and we made the migration back upstairs to our bedroom.

It was then I discovered the Hubs had brought his buck knife with us down to the basement.

A buck knife, really? "Honey, what was the knife for?"

"I don't know, Honey. It was in case I had to fight off the natives or something."

You know, the natives. Or in case Chet returned to take his revenge on us for sealing him out of the roof. Could have been either. Like I said, the Hubs does not wake up well. Ever.

When we crawled back into bed after getting the all clear and tucking Newbie into his bassinet, I went into full-on disaster prevention planning mode while the Hubs "mmmHmm-ed" me until I finally fell asleep after determining what would go into my emergency bag. Water, diapers, flashlights, a radio, snacks, wipes, first aid kit, and a good 6 pounds of Tums because OH THE HEARTBURN.

It was a crazy night. After a crazy weekend. And in case you don't believe me, here's the proof:





More to come on our busy weekend...