Never for lack of material...

One thing is certain - between my husband and Little Miss, I am never without lack of blog material. Ha.

This theory was proven again last night.

I've been feeling kinda blah lately from allergies, so I've been dealing with a sore throat, stuffy head, ear pressure, swollen glands, all that fun stuff. I've also been super busy with Little Miss's activities and church and deadlines and parties/showers, so I've had no down time to catch up and rest. Hubby has also been working a lot and spend the entire day in the woods Saturday for opening season of bow hunting, so last night, I was ready for some much needed "mommy is sick, everyone leave me alone" time.

I should have known better!

Hubby got off work mid-afternoon while I was trying unsuccessfully to nap (Little Miss for some reason kept interrupting me for various reasons, the little staller) and said he wanted to go work out (aka, ride his mountain bike on a nearby 12 mile trail in a chimp refuge park in our local area. Yes, he does this on purpose AND finds it fun. Me? I don't particularly enjoy monkeys, and while they're not on the trails, you can hear them, and well. That's a suspense/horror novel waiting to be written)

He said he'd be back around 6:15 to cook dinner for me. I was so ready to just be DONE. I was looking forward to being taken care of for the first time in a WHILE, and be allowed to veg while he helped do Little Miss's nighttime routine, etc.

Well I couldn't nap, so I ended up making dinner because I just knew he would be later than he predicted. (he always is) and I didn't want to be eating at 8:00 p.m.

Sure enough, at 6:15 when he was supposed be home and starting to cook, he called and said he'd done 6 miles of the trail and headed back to his truck when he realized his bike pouch was open. The pouch that held his keys.

Yeah, I know. DUM DUMMM DUMMMMMM right? I heard it too.

I'm already bitter because I HATE this trail. I don't believe in curses, but seriously, something dramatic happens every time he goes out there. A flat bike tire. A wreck in a ditch. Lost keys. Another flat tire. SOMETHING.

Sigh.

So he says no worries, he will go back in and start looking and worst case, he'd send his cousin out to the house to grab his extra truck key and come help him. Frustrating, but fine. See, I KNEW I cooked for a reason. Little Miss and I ate alone and about an hour and a half later, he calls again. With a strained voice. Says he forgot his cousin is at work and can't come. And asks for me to find his holster, 9 mm, and pack a baggie full of ice.

Um, yeah. I freak out. Turns out it wasn't as sinister as it sounded. He wanted the gun for protection since it was getting dark, and a baggie of ice water to drink since he'd been out there awhile. Also an apple, hoodie, flashlight, and head lamp.

Sure. I'm not, you know, sick or anything.

I not-so-jokingly asked if he needed a first aid kit too. He said "Why? I'm not hurt." And I said "Not yet. But with your luck, you'll step on a snake or be attacked by a cougar. And I bet that will require atleast a band-aid."

I'm not pleasant when I'm sick.

He just said "That's why I have you bringing the gun."

Right.

So I load Little Miss up, find all the supplies he requested, and grudgingly, get in the car. I know losing his keys was an accident, but I'm sick, swollen, exhausted, and just flat out grumpy. Not a shining moment. Little Miss, however, though the entire thing was a grand adventure. So, in the pitch black, I try to follow his directions to find him, and as I'm driving these back country roads, I realize the chimp refuge is actually near a correction facility. So I'm passing all these city signs that read DO NOT PICK UP HITCHHIKERS.

Great. So now I'm worried about wild chimps AND crazy people escaping from jail. Not sure at the moment which I'd rather come across first.

I find my husband in the parking area, and give him the extra truck key. It wouldn't unlock his door. We try the clicker I'd also thought to bring. It doesn't work. HA! Yes, Murphy's Law is alive and well in north Louisiana. So I beg him to just come home, and try again in the morning, but he already had all this stuff I brought, and said he'd give it a try for a little while longer. And if he couldn't find them, he'd ride his bike back.

Um, no way. That many miles, in the pitch black, in dark clothes? Not genius. He relented and said he'd call his coworkers at the fire station to come get him if it came to that.

I agreed to that, and drove away. I knew we should pray for him to find the keys, but I figured with all my immature, I'm-sick-and-grumpy emotions roiling around, I probably had a sin block at the moment. So I got Little Miss to pray. hehe. She did, quite eloquently, and at the end, she added a prayer for Mommy to feel better and not be grumpy. Oops. Okay God, I hear ya... ;)

We go home and finish our bedtime routine and at about 9:15, get the much awaited text. "JUST FOUND THEM". Thank you, Jesus. Little Miss was ecstatic her prayer was answered, so maybe that was worth the entire drama right there. He found them about 2 1/2 miles in, which is why it took so long, but thankfully a fireman had come out and helped him look toward the end and gave him company.

So, the moral of the story? I figure its pretty much two-fold. Don't let your attitude get to the point where your 3 year old calls you out in prayer, and never ride your bicycle around criminals and wild monkeys.