The Loudest Alarm Clock Imaginable
It's the first Wednesday in May, it's before 1 p.m., and I have ALREADY PUT THE BABY DOWN FOR HER NAP. What? You don't get the significance of the above statement? The horror I am currently experiencing? The reason I am slapping my forehead with my palm right about now? Then I guess you don't live in Minnesota, where the city tornado sirens are tested at 1 p.m. on the first Wednesday of every month, or else, maybe you do, or maybe you live somewhere else where this same practice occurs, but you don't have a young child for whom 1 p.m. is NAPTIME.
Let me tell you, when you do have a young child, a baby even (yes, I consider any child under the age of two a baby, even if she is the size of a preschooler), and especially a baby who sleeps through NOTHING, and on top of that a baby who is currently going through a fearful phase, the damn tornado siren feels like just about the worst injustice imaginable for a stay-at-home mom. As I was pulling Julia's shade at 12 noon and suddenly remembered what day it was, I actually experienced an irrational moment during which I, in all seriousness for a second, wondered what I could do or who I could call to, oh, I don' t know, CANCEL the tornado siren test for today.
This is a new problem for our household, because when we lived in Minneapolis, the siren wasn't close enough to detect. I never even thought about it. Then came January, and our first week in our new house in our new town. Have you ever wondered what those tornado siren towers look like, and where they are located? Well, come on over to our house and I'll show you, because you can practically touch the Northfield one from our front door. (Funny how I never even noticed that thing when we were shopping for our house....)
On the first Wednesday in January I was newly pregnant, we had just completed an EXTREMELY stressful house selling/buying/moving experience, I had just received word that my dad had had an unexpected stroke, and we were still recovering from a holiday experience that brings new meaning to the words "never again." Let's just say naptime was a much-needed respite and that I was not feeling very, oh, patient and energetic and able to handle unexpected interruptions in the baby-care routine that day. And then the clock struck one and a piercing sound ripped through our house like it was going to take off the roof. The cat went nuts, I jumped up, saying aloud, "What the.....?" and on cue, Julia awoke from her nap, crying. It sounded like the siren was IN OUR HOUSE. I quickly called Christopher on the phone, and he sighed, having already guessed what was occurring in our house at that moment. He pointed out that the siren was at the corner of our street, visible from our front windows. Yep. There it was. Oh, and have I mentioned? After the siren goes off once, it's quiet for about five minutes, and then they test it AGAIN. Just in case your eardrums are still intact. Just in case your baby missed it the first time. And does it have to be so interminable? Seriously, how long does the siren really have to go off in order to tell that it is still working just fine? My eardrums have exploded; I think it's working. I don't think it needs to run for three more minutes.
Since January, I have been careful to keep Julia up until after 1:00 on tornado siren days. If she is awake, and being held, and looking out the window at the tower, she is more fascinated than terrified of the siren, though she still tends to get disturbed and talk endlessly about it for the rest of the day. But if it goes off while she is sleeping (as has happened one other time since January, oops), all bets are off. The nap is over, she is traumatized, and so begins a VERY long afternoon. Today, Julia was exhausted all morning and without thinking I put her down for a very early nap because she was practically falling asleep in her vegetarian hotdog at lunchtime. When she was in her crib and I remembered the imminent siren, I desperately tried the tactic of saying to her, "Now honey, if you hear the siren going off while you're taking your nap, don't worry, it will go off soon, and then you can just go back night-night, okay?" (HA!) I knew it was a bad decision when she looked at me worriedly and then said, about ten times in a row, "Siren? siren? siren! siren! siren! Mama? Mama? siren? siren?" Sigh.
Here goes, it's 12:59......
Let me tell you, when you do have a young child, a baby even (yes, I consider any child under the age of two a baby, even if she is the size of a preschooler), and especially a baby who sleeps through NOTHING, and on top of that a baby who is currently going through a fearful phase, the damn tornado siren feels like just about the worst injustice imaginable for a stay-at-home mom. As I was pulling Julia's shade at 12 noon and suddenly remembered what day it was, I actually experienced an irrational moment during which I, in all seriousness for a second, wondered what I could do or who I could call to, oh, I don' t know, CANCEL the tornado siren test for today.
This is a new problem for our household, because when we lived in Minneapolis, the siren wasn't close enough to detect. I never even thought about it. Then came January, and our first week in our new house in our new town. Have you ever wondered what those tornado siren towers look like, and where they are located? Well, come on over to our house and I'll show you, because you can practically touch the Northfield one from our front door. (Funny how I never even noticed that thing when we were shopping for our house....)
On the first Wednesday in January I was newly pregnant, we had just completed an EXTREMELY stressful house selling/buying/moving experience, I had just received word that my dad had had an unexpected stroke, and we were still recovering from a holiday experience that brings new meaning to the words "never again." Let's just say naptime was a much-needed respite and that I was not feeling very, oh, patient and energetic and able to handle unexpected interruptions in the baby-care routine that day. And then the clock struck one and a piercing sound ripped through our house like it was going to take off the roof. The cat went nuts, I jumped up, saying aloud, "What the.....?" and on cue, Julia awoke from her nap, crying. It sounded like the siren was IN OUR HOUSE. I quickly called Christopher on the phone, and he sighed, having already guessed what was occurring in our house at that moment. He pointed out that the siren was at the corner of our street, visible from our front windows. Yep. There it was. Oh, and have I mentioned? After the siren goes off once, it's quiet for about five minutes, and then they test it AGAIN. Just in case your eardrums are still intact. Just in case your baby missed it the first time. And does it have to be so interminable? Seriously, how long does the siren really have to go off in order to tell that it is still working just fine? My eardrums have exploded; I think it's working. I don't think it needs to run for three more minutes.
Since January, I have been careful to keep Julia up until after 1:00 on tornado siren days. If she is awake, and being held, and looking out the window at the tower, she is more fascinated than terrified of the siren, though she still tends to get disturbed and talk endlessly about it for the rest of the day. But if it goes off while she is sleeping (as has happened one other time since January, oops), all bets are off. The nap is over, she is traumatized, and so begins a VERY long afternoon. Today, Julia was exhausted all morning and without thinking I put her down for a very early nap because she was practically falling asleep in her vegetarian hotdog at lunchtime. When she was in her crib and I remembered the imminent siren, I desperately tried the tactic of saying to her, "Now honey, if you hear the siren going off while you're taking your nap, don't worry, it will go off soon, and then you can just go back night-night, okay?" (HA!) I knew it was a bad decision when she looked at me worriedly and then said, about ten times in a row, "Siren? siren? siren! siren! siren! Mama? Mama? siren? siren?" Sigh.
Here goes, it's 12:59......
posted by Shannon at Wednesday, May 03, 2006
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