Even though I woke up with the thunder at about 3:30am, I didn't actually crawl out of bed and put my workout clothes on until closer to 4:15. Husband was still tossing and turning. I think it was the weather. I remember the news saying scattered thunderstorms, but honestly, if you live in Texas – you simply cannot trust the forecast. The thunder continued rumbling. No rain yet. I turned on ESPN and starting riding the stationary bike. The lightning was flashing through the windows, but nothing too startling. Then, about 4:35ish the thunder became stronger. Louder.
One loud BOOM! Deafening. FLASH! Blinding - through the bathroom window.
Husband was in the bathroom. I was pluggin’ away on my cycle watching the baseball highlights of the playoffs. (Kansas City and Detroit weren't doing too badly, by the way.)
“That was pretty close!” said Husband. “You wanna go check on the kids?”
“Yeah.” I climbed off the bike and ran upstairs. (P.S. all lights were still on. T.V. was on. The ADT alarm was blinking red – but didn't think anything of it because storms would sometimes trip it.) S had already climbed in bed with her brother and both of them were snoring. No worries there. As I walked down the short hall to R’s room, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She was snoring, too. Simple, stormy, Monday morning, but still no rain yet. I jogged back down to my bedroom.
Husband said the master bathroom lights were out. Probably a tripped breaker. We both walked to the garage, flipped the switch and all was good. I got back on the bike for like 2 minutes and ended my interrupted workout. While Husband was brushing his teeth, I took off my socks & tennis shoes and put on my slides. Something was wrong.
Whoever says that parents don't have some kind of intuition is nuts. Clueless. Ignorant. Parents do. Especially Moms. It’s something in our DNA. We just know.
Husband comes out of the bathroom as I am standing at bedroom door. We both smell it. It’s plastic? Rubber? GO CHECK ON THE KIDS. I run up the stairs and I smell it more. No smoke. But I know something is wrong. I can't focus on what it might be, but I start to panic a little bit as I reach F’s bedroom door. I yell for S and F to wake up and go downstairs. They are sleepily stumbling barefoot to the staircase. As I went down the short hall again to R’s room, I am convinced it’s her flat iron on the carpet or a melting nightlight. I scoured her floor for anything that might be emitting this awful smell. This rubbery, oily scent was permeating my head. I knew something was burning but I couldn’t find it and the feeling of not knowing what it was became overwhelming.
Teenagers can saw some serious logs. R was out. She was not waking up. I climbed in her bed and shook her shoulders for her to wake up completely. I yelled at her to go downstairs with her brother and sister. She was groggy and barefoot, but made it down the stairs to her siblings while I could see Husband trying to get up the stairs. I yelled at him not to come up. (Surely not listening, he kept ascending.) I was following the long hallway to the game room.
The smell was now smoke. I could see it. I looked up and the ceiling was orange.
“FIRE! The ceiling is on fire! Go! Go!”
Husband is behind me now yelling, “Call 911!” I am running to the kids downstairs. Honestly, I had such tunnel vision at that point; I don’t even remember how Husband got himself back down the stairs. I told the kids to move to the door. We could see the fire now – covering the whole upstairs. I grabbed the house phone – DEAD. Mind you, all electricity was still on! Lights in all the rooms – ON! Where was this fire coming from?!? F handed me his cell phone.
I called 911 at 4:58am on October 6, 2014 and screamed that our house was on fire.
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