That Time There Was a FIRE at Our House

It has always been one of my biggest fears as a mom of multiple young children:

What if the house is on fire?

Will the older kids stay calm and listen to directions? What if we are on opposite sides of the house? What if I can’t get all the kids out at the same time? What about the dog?

Last week, the nightmare hit way too close to home.

Apparently some teenagers who clearly were not thinking lit our next door neighbor’s van on fire. It caught the vehicle next to it on fire too. Those vehicles were surrounded by trees and right next to a storage shed, which is separated from the neighbor’s home, but only about 500 feet from our house.

The scariest part?

There was a tower of fire 50 feet high only a few yards away from my children, and I had absolutely no idea.

I was on the computer preparing last-minute details for the BlogU conference. My kids were in the next room watching Star Wars. Our day was winding down and Eddie was already on his way home. I thought I heard a “pop,” but I shrugged it off because I assumed it was on the television. 

I couldn’t see the fire from the angle of the windows in my office. I saw the trees outside of my window, but I did not see the flames that towered above them. I did not smell the dark black smoke that Eddie later told me he could see from the next county over, as he drove home from work. The neighbors who own that house were not there.

Thank God there was a man from the pool company here opening our pool for the summer. Had he not been here, I don’t know what would have happened. Only that it would have been much, much worse.

He knocked on the front door, already on the phone with 911, and gestured toward the towering flames.

I would like to say that I grabbed all the kids and we ran right away, but that is not the truth.

It’s funny how your mind works in emergencies. Except it’s not funny at all.

I have gone through this scenario 100 times in my head before it actually happened, but in none of the hypothetical daydreams did I respond the way I actually did.

I don’t know why I insisted that the older children go find their shoes, or that we could not leave until I got the baby dressed (she was only in a diaper.) It was 85 degrees and sunny, they all would have been just fine shoeless and diapered.

I don’t know why I thought to grab my purse, but not a phone.

I don’t know why I stopped and posted in a private Facebook group and asked my friends to pray, but I didn’t try to notify my husband about what was happening.

All of those things seem very, very stupid. Because they are. But the truth is that you just don’t know how you will react until you are there.

We have always had plan that if our house is on fire we will go and meet outside by the trampoline. But it wasn’t OUR house that was on fire, and the fire was too close to the designated trampoline meeting spot.

I needed a new plan.

My new plan was to take my kids and my dog and my purse and go alert the elderly lady who lives alone.

I did get all of the kids and the dog out of the house (dressed and wearing shoes, minutes wasted). We walked down our driveway, only to discover that the street was now blocked by fire engines and the neighbor was already standing on her lawn. I had no further plan.

Other curious neighbors were starting to gather. Sirens were blaring. It is hard to hold a toddler and manage a dog that is on high alert at the end of a leash. My older kids did listen, they looked to me for guidance, but I did not have any directions to give. 

The curious neighbors began to walk towards our house, towards the fire. No one was stopping them. Surely, the fire fighters were getting things under control. Why was no one stopping them? Was that my job? Should I get them away?

I saw a neighbor I recognized; a nice, friendly, grandfatherly neighbor standing on my front lawn. I know him. He was at our house for New Year’s brunch. I gravitated to him with all of my children and my dog. Back towards the fire. Which was also stupid.

But maybe he would know what to do?

They had the road closed. How would Eddie get home?

Eddie. He would be so worried. He would see the smoke from the highway and think it was our house. If they didn’t put it out soon, it was going to be our house. Why did I not think to grab my phone?

I don’t know why it never occurred to me to ask someone else to borrow their phone to call him.

Minutes later his white SUV tore through the back of our property.

As soon as Nick saw his daddy’s car he burst into inconsolable tears. I didn’t know he had been staying calm just for me, trying to be the man of the house. Now he could only heave heavy 7-year-old sobs.

But now the fire was out. They stopped it from spreading to the trees that would no doubt have carried to to our home. The garage where the van was parked was made of cement, not wood. It would not burn.

Everything really was going to be okay.

But I really, really need a new emergency plan.

See that cream-colored siding peeking over the roof of the red building? That’s how close my children were to this fire.

Also, teenagers are idiots. But you probably know that already.