|
|
 |
Dispatches
Just an ordinary day . . . |
|
Written by Jennifer Mabee
|
Dec. 19, 2011 - Routines make life manageable. They create a balance between the unpredictability of life and the everyday things that require our attention. Take Friday, for example – a typical morning routine that consisted of me getting the kids up and moving and then driving them to school, which is typically a challenge in itself. (My two daughters take after me in the not-really-ones-to-get-up-and-hit-the-ground-running type).
Half way to school, the pager went off (hello, unpredictable!). Single vehicle MVC, possible extrication. My older daughter, Sydney, who will be 12 this month, didn’t miss a beat.
“Can we go to school late, Mom? Can you take us to the hall with you and we’ll wait in the training room til your done, and then you can take us to school?”
“No.” I replied.
“But you need to go.”
“No.”
“You have to go, someone might be trapped.”
“No, Sydney. I have to take you to school.”
“You could take us to Gramma’s.”
“There’s no one there to drive you to school.”
“But you could pick us up when you’re done and drive us to school then.”
“Nope.”
“Maybe you could take us to Uncle Brian’s. Or call Dad, maybe he can meet us.”
“No, Syd. I will take you to school and then I’ll go to the hall.”
“But Mom!”
“I need to take you two to school first. I will get to the hall when I get there.”
As the units arrived on scene, it turned out that no one was trapped and Sydney finally gave up on her attempt to get me to the call. I was actually amazed at how she managed to come up with so many options, despite my firm insistence from the get go that my priority was to get them to school first. (And despite the image in my thought bubble of me telling them to “tuck and roll” on the side of the road by Gramma’s house. Just kidding!)
As we continued on to the school and passed Big Jim (who is always there) heading to the hall (you can read about him in this blog) and Station One’s pumper (they’d been paged out as backup), the kids were excitedly telling their friends about it. They thought the whole experience was really cool, from hearing the call go out on the pager, to the updates from responding units, passing the other firefighters en route to the hall, and of course, me filling in the blanks with my two cents (which all firefighters do when they are listening to a call they’re not at), and explaining things as the call progressed.
I must admit, it was a profound moment to have my kids show so much interest and enthusiasm in something that means so much to me. And I was once again reminded that when I think it’s just another routine, ordinary day, something unpredictable happens to show me that there’s nothing ordinary about it.
|
Guest
Written by Guest on 2011-12-23 21:53:57
Wow, this really says what it is all about! | Jen Mabee
Written by Jen Mabee on 2011-12-22 12:37:35
Thanks so much for your comment! One of the wonderful byproducts of being a member of the fire service is getting to know people from across the country and hearing their stories. Keep up the good work (parenting & firefighting...lol) Merry Christmas to you too!! | Written by James Lindsay on 2011-12-22 08:36:28
Big smile.
I became a volunteer at my department a little more than 5 years ago. My stepdaughter was just about 7 years old.
My wife works as a nurse, 12 hour shifts, days or nights, from 7 to 7.
For the first year, it was simple:
"When Mom's at work, call the sitter (one of 6, in order) and tell her there is a fire and I had to go."
I consider myself blessed to live in a small town, work with high school kids, and have such a responsible kid.
"If you're at school, and you don't see me at lunch time or the end of the day, Wendy, Hazel, Rose, Lyndsey, Brian, (just a small handful of the incredible people I work with) or somebody else will take you, and the police will let me and your Mom know where you are."
After the first year, when I had gone out on a couple of calls, We had a chat with our now eight year old.
"You're big now, and pretty smart, right? So if you wake up in the middle of the night and hear me run out the door, will you be scared?" I asked.
"No. Because If I do get scared, I'll just call Mom at work." If my wife is working nights, the odds are pretty good she knows exactly where I am - we are dispatched 24/7/365 by our hospital staff.
Over the years between, I've only had to race out in the middle of the night once while my wife was at work. Last year, we were paged to a structure fire at 12am. I returned home, at 7:30, about five minutes ahead of my wife.
As I crept in the house, quietly taking off my boots (the child usually gets up at 7:45), I stepped on the dog, who was quite happy to see me (apart from being stepped on) and be let outside.
"What are you doing?" came the little voice from the end of the hall. "And when did you get up?" she added.
I told her there was a house fire, but everyone was O.K., nothing major.
"Good," she said, and then gave me what has come to be known as Her Mother's Look, "You better get those clothes in the wash and get in the shower. Mom is going to be home any minute and you STINK!"
Firefighters' kids are usually pretty responsible - it's in the upbringing. They don't cook on their own, don't talk to strangers when alone, lock the door, and know, from a very early age that when that pager goes off, somebody else needs their parent for a few hours.
I'm a parent and a firefighter. This kid is very proud that I'm both.
Merry Christmas
|
|
|
|
