Rolling with the Punches

I'm not very good at 'rolling with the punches', accepting that which I cannot change etc., and Hurricane bloody Irene is no exception.
It was bad enough having to watch the Ball & Chain drive the Queenager off to college the other day. I didn't know whether I was going to throw up or collapse when the garage door started coming down. Not a good experience and something that you really can't appreciate until one of your chicks finally leaves the nest. (I know chicks don't have nests, but you know what I mean.)
I went up to her bedroom, stood laughing at the fact that it looked like a bomb had hit it, and then suddenly realized I just couldn't be in there. I've done a little tidying up, but it all wells up a bit and I have to leave the room again.
Lisen to me.
As I mentioned a few posts ago, the plan was to fly with the boys to DC on Saturday morning to help her settle in and generally make sure she was OK. That was before Irene came roaring up the east coast, and now I can't go. The Little Guy is bereft, which doesn't help me at all. Its hard to see your kids cry like that. Anyway, they're declaring states of emergency all over the place on the Atlantic coast so even if my plane did take off, I can't in all seriousness, take two kids into that type of danger.
So I'm very sad, and just thanking heaven that her dad is with her because it looks like it might get scary.
C'est la vie, c'est la guerre, as they say.