Oh my. Hello from the long-awaited land of lights that turn on, toilets that flush, washing machines that hum, water that runs from the tap. 

Hurricane Irene hit us at 2am last weekend and by 3am, we had lost our power. By 7am, trees were still falling down, even after holding out so long through the storm. 

It was an adventure at first. So fun! So exciting! We're like pioneers! 

I had written this fun little post in my head highlighting all the great fun we were having on our adventure:

Haha! The outfits Elizabeth has been putting together when she can't find clothes in her dark bedroom!

Haha! Look at Birdy playing in the puddles!

Haha! She's so dirty! She's having such a good time!

Haha? I don't have a way to wash those clothes!

Haha? I just ruined those cute leggings!

Haha? I don't have a way to give her a bath!

By Tuesday, it was no longer fun. 

Tuesday night (I think it was Tuesday. At this point, it all becomes a blur.), we hit a low point. Little Mary was suffering from a migraine. A doozy which was accompanied by throwing up (haha! towels I can't wash!). It was pitch black in the house. Birdy was toddling around, tripping, banging herself about, screaming. Dan went to turn on the generator that had been powering our freezer, in order to at least turn on a light....Nothing. Broken. No generator. All children exhausted, crying. (I know you mamas know what it's like when ALL your children are crying simultaneously.) Mary, still sick. Grumpiness. Yes, there was much grumpiness. And all in pitch blackness. 

But you know, I believe, now that I'm on this side of it, I can probably pull a little light from this darkness. 

We talked to and helped our neighbor more in the last week, than we have in the last month. 

Driving through developments, I saw more children outside playing, than I think I ever have. It was like spotting some rare, endangered species on the side of the road.

I met neighbors up the road, that I've never even seen before. Standing outside, one lady holding her glass of wine, talking to the neighbor in his flourescent yellow tshirt--the mark of a county roads man, talking to the old man, unshaven and a little greasy (aren't we all?) whose suspenders hold up his ratty old khaki pants. And me. All of us laughing about how tough it's been. Talking about what we've done to survive.

And I thought, "We can do this. When we're put to little tests like this, we can all be pretty tough and pretty resourceful." That's not to say I didn't have my moments. That one morning, I decided to just crawl back in bed and hide for a few minutes (or maybe it was an hour). 

But we survived. We can be tough. My husband, toughest of all. We can haul water from the stream to the toilets. And take our showers in the freezing cold spring-fed pool at my granparents' farm. And eat a lot of cereal. And figure out a way to make chocolate chip pancakes even though there's no electricity.

We can do it, if we must.

But still.... hello. And still....it's good to be back.

So, so good.