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My grown daughter just notified me that my neurotic weather warnings have officially made her... neurotic.

I'll admit I overdo it a TAD once in awhile. She'll point out the time I made her and her boyfriend hustle with me and a flashlight to the ground floor gym in our condo, when the TV weather flashed tornado warnings. They slouched against the treadmill shaking their heads at me. No one else in the building flinched. 

Suburban New York tornadoes are a rarity, but show me a red flashing tornado alert on my flatscreen and I'm yellin' Auntie Em!  

So last night, my daughter (who never goes out to clubs in NYC) went to a club for her boyfriend's sister's birthday. I'm extra wound up when she's out on the road late. Usually I'm home alone, solo, trying to keep myself awake 'til she's safely back in town. 

Last night, I'm at the computer mourning Michael Jackson through the online recap of his tribute, when thunder, wild lightning, and what felt like a tornado, was blowing by. 

I googled local dopplar radar and OMG! A tornado warning was issued for my town. 

OMG..I hope she's not going to drive home in the middle of this? I start texting her in CAPS...TORNADO...blah blah... I'm tracking and texting her every 5 minutes. 

Truthfully I burst out laughing imagining her face reading the text, because seriously — what are the chances of a tornado the one night she goes out?

Ok, so no text back. Then I text her boyfriend's phone with more TORNADO warnings. Nothing. Mothers hate return text silence.

The storm blows through and an hour later the moon is full and the sky is clear as if nothing happened. Finally out of the club she calls with a "what the heck is wrong with you, there's nothing going on" comment. Today, she tells me she did catch a glimpse of the text while in the dark of the nightclub and thought I was texting her that her room looked like a tornado hit it. 

Yes, she's blonde. 

I printed out the dopplar warning for evidence. Now I'm taking her for a ride to see all the trees down in the next town over. 

Call it single mother nature.

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