One of those weekends...

It's been one of those weekends around here. Seriously. If you're married to a pilot, you know that the number one rule is that if something is going wrong, your spouse is out of town. Rule number two is that if it's a holiday, he will almost definitely be working.

On Thanksgiving Day, Trevor had to leave the house at 1 p.m. to commute to Fort Lauderdale for work. So, at noon, he said, "Let's call my parents quick." He called, and I stepped towards the phone to say hello only to realize it's not on speaker, it's on Facetime -- and I am a mess! I was still in my pajamas, bathrobe, and glasses. My hair hadn't been brushed yet, either. Truly, a mess. I squeaked out "Happy Thanksgiving! I'm not Facetime ready!" and ducked out of the camera's sight for the rest of the conversation.

We quickly scarfed down our meager Thanksgiving dinner of mashed potatoes, turkey breast, stuffing, cranberries, and apple pie before getting Trevor on the road in a hurry. Of course, as I'm sitting here in a total state of mess, Crookshanks started heaving...a lot. I thought for sure he was going to blow chunks, but he didn't. I gave him a ton of hairball treats and prayed that he would start to feel better. Instead, I found a pile of foamy cat saliva on the floor next to the Christmas tree. Fantastic...

Fast forward to the next morning. I was - once again - a total mess. Because it was Black Friday and I do not shop on Black Friday, I had no intention of going anywhere. Before I finished my morning cup of coffee, I heard a shrill beep from downstairs. It took a few minutes of careful listening to determine it was the carbon monoxide detector in the kitchen. I pulled out the step stool and pressed the reset button, hoping to buy myself some time. The beeping ended, but not without causing me some serious worry. Where could I go for safety with two cats on a holiday weekend? 

I hopped in the shower because I desperately needed to clean up (pregnancy will do that to you). I pondered the huge list of things I would need to pack if the beeping started again, and wondered how I would handle the litter boxes, which I am not allowed to touch while pregnant. I started to think I wouldn't be able to get out of the house with even the basic necessities if it came down to it. I started to worry that if we went to someone's house, Crookshanks would be barfing all over their house from his treats finally working.

And then it struck me - why was I worrying? Worrying would not help me control this situation. What could help, though, would be appealing to the one who IS in control. I spent the rest of my shower praying over our house, our baby, and the cats.

Shortly after I got out of the shower, Trevor called and let me know that our house isn't hooked up for gas. The only thing that would set off the carbon monoxide detector would be if a car had been left running with a closed garage door! Since my car was definitely not running and his car was gone, I was able to breathe a huge sigh of relief. He suggested I change the batteries, though, if the beeping began again.

On Saturday afternoon, I decided it was finally time to venture out and do some shopping. I got showered and dressed. I was all set. However, I couldn't find my keys. Trevor was the last one to drive my car, so I checked the kitchen, the living room, his desk in the office, his night stand, and his dresser. No luck. I checked my purse just in case pregnancy brain made me forget they were in my purse. Again, no luck.

So, I did a second round of the house, just to be sure, but this time praying the prayer I learned in our marriage prep classes with Father Tom: Tony, Tony, Come around. Something's lost and can't be found. Something told me to check the car. They weren't in the ignition or the cupholder. I checked the backseat. I looked up from the backseat and saw something on the trunk of the car. My keys were sitting atop the mail that had come on Wednesday while we were out!

Yep, it was definitely one of those weekends...but both of the big potential catastrophes were averted by taking the time to pray. God spoke to me in a big way by answering my prayers this weekend, and I hope I won't forget the lesson God was teaching me: prayer really does change things!

Edited to add: It's Sunday afternoon as I write this, and Crookshanks still hasn't passed his hairball, but it sounds like it will be coming out soon. He's making more, um, productive noises now that he has had three sets of hairball control treats in the maximum dosage!