Tomorrow afternoon, I am leaving for my annual girl’s trip, which we refer to as our GGW, or Girl’s Get-Away Weekend. Our husbands call it Girls Gone Wild. Hardly. Last year I got a concussion and we sat around making pot holders.

There is always a lot of planning and organization involved with stepping out of my routine and having my husband step in, but throw in having no electricity for four days…with no end in sight…and you’ll see one Mommy whose head feels like it may pop off.

We have been living in limbo since Sunday, shuttling back and forth between my Mom’s house, 20 miles from here. Thank goodness, there hasn’t been any school. There are no batteries anywhere in town, stations have run out of gas, and when I called around looking for a generator, people laughed at me.

But, our GGW house has power and we’ve spent a small fortune to rent the place…which some of us can’t even afford. Have I mentioned that I’m in the mortgage business? Regardless, this is our one opportunity each year to have a real break, recharge and eat obscene amounts of chocolate.

My husband will be busy while I’m gone, driving the kids around to various activities, all while treating every intersection like a four-way stop.

He will entertain them without the use of TV, Wii, or computer. He will continue to drive 20 minutes, each way, twice a day, to charge a battery in hopes of keeping our fish alive (we’ve only lost one, so far). And, he will have to make due without any cold food or drinks, grocery stores with doors closed to the public, and no ice available within city limits.

But, he will not be the only frazzled person in this family. Today, I have to make lists and schedules, pack my stuff…and somehow find a liquor store that’s open so I can buy my vodka. Some of us have real priorities.

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I live in Ohio. We do not get hurricanes in Ohio. We get tornados, flash floods, and more than a few people who lose their lives to lightening each year.

But yesterday, Ike showed up for an unexpected visit and he wasn’t a very nice guest.

While we were gone for the afternoon, Ike’s remnant, hurricane-force winds took advantage of our absence and wreaked havoc on our home. He snapped a branch off our 70 foot tall maple tree like a toothpick, which then crashed down on our swing-set, fence, cable wires and electrical line.

We are just one of a half million families in the Buckeye state who may be without power for roughly a week.

We packed up the kids, dog, and all the food we could salvage and drove 20 miles to my Mom’s house. We’ll camp out here, where the kids can get good and spoiled, until things get fixed at home.

On the drive out, it was eerie to see the entire city without power, and every other house with a large limb or an entire tree down in their yard. Roads were closed, shingles were flying, and cars were crushed. I have never seen anything like it.

Despite the hassle, the inevitable death of every fish in our 55 gallon tank, the loss of income because our places of employment are shut down, the wondering if our house will catch fire because there are electrical wires laying on the roof, and the monumental mess we have to clean up…the biggest challenge will be dealing with the fact that my Mom still lives in 1975 and doesn’t have internet access.

I am thankful for so many things right now, but mostly that no one was hurt, that we don’t live in Texas, and that Panera has free Wi-Fi.

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The picture at the bottom of the last post was taken last week on our vacation in Virginia. Moments after I captured the shot, I joined my daughter in the ocean.

I was in hip-deep water as we were lightheartedly jumping in the waves. Since I was trying not to get my hair wet, I had my sunglasses on top of my head to prevent fly-aways from getting whipped with saltwater.

After a few minutes, we turned to head back toward the beach. My daughter was wading ahead of me so I could keep my eye on her, but she kept looking back to watch the waves. Apparently, she’s much smarter than her mother, because I suddenly heard her yell, “Mom! Look out!”

I soon realized she had warned me a little too late, because as the last syllable left her lips, I was blindsided by a massive wave. I was knocked to my knees and as I flailed about under the water, all I could think about were my new sunglasses. What? Seven dollars is a lot for shades when your line of work is mortgage lending. Hi Fannie! Hi Freddie! Need bailed out much?

When I came up for air, I sputtered and spit, then immediately set about looking for my glasses. But, after a few moments of searching I realized sun in my eyes was the least of my worries. Was that a breeze I felt across my chest?

As I faced the beach, I looked down to find that my halter had come undone, and my entire bathing suit top was around my waist. I stood there mortified as I flashed the Labor Day crowd.

At least if I had found my sunglasses I could’ve hid some of my embarrassment…because I sure wasn’t hiding much else.

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My six year old son was born with multiple heart defects, one of which is very rare. It is called Cor Triatrium Dexter and has to do with the trabeculated anterior, sinoatrial orifice, crista terminalis, and the super-cali-fragil-istic-expi-ali-docious.

Basically, the right side of his heart is jacked up.

For the first year of his life, he was cyanotic a lot. For people who are fortunate enough not to understand that term…it means that he was blue. He often had discolored skin around his mouth, which was a constant reminder that his blood didn’t have enough oxygen in it.

When he was 13 months old, he had angioplasty and valvuloplasty. This wasn’t because he was eating too much butter and bacon, but rather because this one weird defect had created a blockage, and that’s why he looked like Violet Beauregarde from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

The benefit of the surgery was that he suddenly had energy he never had before. The downside is, that in stretching out the valve the cardiologist created a leak. Not because he messed up, but because that is what happens when you expand a valve.

And that means in the near future my kid will need open heart surgery.

One good thing? Well, he’s always been too young to understand just how messed up his ticker really is. He knows there is something different about him…and how could he not? He may as well have a stethoscope permanently affixed to his chest. But, we never talk to him about having any limitations.

The other night, we saw that he has grasped what we’ve been telling him all along. Because when my daughter was upset and crying hard (Note to Dad: Let’s not tell the nine year old that someday her dog will die), my son walked over to his sister and said, “It’s okay. Don’t cry. I love you. I love you with all of my special heart.”

And if that doesn’t warm your cockles, I don’t know what will.

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