Power Outages and Puppy Chow

Saturday, June 11, 2011

At four o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, my house is probably similar to many others: silent (well, with the exception of the dog's incessant snoring). Today, however, was an exception to the rule.

As I tend to do on nights when my husband is on duty (reminder: he's a firefighter/paramedic), I fell asleep reading in bed late last night. The house was silent (well, except for the aforementioned snoring of said aforementioned dog) with all three kids sleeping peacefully. Around four in the morning, I heard a tremendous boom (perhaps a lightning strike?). Car alarms sounded, and I woke up to complete darkness. The power was out.

Prior to motherhood, I would've merely shrugged it off, rolled over, and went right back to sleep. However, now having three little ones with the oldest being 5 years old, any power outage is a Really Big Deal. As I was on my out of bed to check on my youngest, my son was already in the doorway. "Mom," he said, "did you hear that super cosmic boom?"

Why, yes. Yes, I did.

Armed with our flashlights (a basic, boring red one for yours truly and another of the Thomas the Tank Engine variety—complete with engine sound effects—for him), we ventured into the darkness to check on the girls. Both were wide awake and sitting upright in their bed and crib (respectively). Okay, this was already better than expected. Until my son broke the news to his sisters. "The power's out! It's totally dark!" he exclaimed.

Cue hysterics from my 4-year-old daughter. My 20-month-old, not to be outdone by her big sister, soon followed suit. Okay then. Scratch that whole "better than expected" notion.

After calming the girls and arming them with stuffed animals, we trekked into the living room. In fairness, it wasn't pitch black, but it was definitely still darker than the girls would've liked. We pulled a few blankets into the center of the floor and decided how we would pass the time. After a rousing round of shining the flashlight at the ceiling (and then the wall, for shadow puppets, of course), my son, suddenly struck by the thought, vocalized his central concern: how on earth would we be able to eat without power?

Always wanting to take advantage of a "learning opportunity", even when profusely tired and daydreaming endlessly of the soft tranquility of my bed, we started to talk about the difference between gas and electricity, of what we could and could not do sans power. It really just came down to this: the central concern was how we would be able to bake something sweet (as I had promised last night). Every few days, we tend to bake something. I try to alternate between savory and sweet, although my children (and husband, for that matter) tend to prefer the latter. Having already contacted ComEd, I knew the restoration time was anticipated to be around 8 a.m. but I might as well have said we wouldn't have power until two Tuesdays from now. The kids were already in a power-less, baking-induced panic. Whatever would we do?!

As we were sitting on the blankets, my son suddenly piped up: "Mom! We could use the stove, right? We could still bake something!" Deciding upon the stove, we spent the next half hour debating what we could "bake"  without electricity. We were officially roughing it, having decided that we would produce some amazing dessert care of only our old, trusty, turquoise (yes, turquoise) stove. (And in the interest of full disclosure, I wasn't willing to work too hard without my trusty stand mixer!) The verdict? Puppy Chow (or Muddy Buddies—whatever you want to call it). Just as we had moved our discussion as to what we would make for breakfast (pancakes? French toast?), the ceiling fan started moving and the nightlight popped on. Power was restored! (Thanks for your hard work, ComEd!) I have to say that my two older kids were actually a little disappointed that we weren't going to have to partake in full day indoor camping. I, however, was quite relieved.

As promised, we did make Puppy Chow and it was well received by the three biggest critics I know. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to make my second pot of coffee, and not a moment too soon....