Stuck in Brussels

So my husband has been working his hands to the bone in Liberia for the past two weeks plus. He's held a pastors' conference for 120 pastors, documented, photographed, and cataloged every one of the 54 children at the orphanage our non-profit supports, worked on a Lifewater Liberia compound, met with the head of the Ministry of Health, visited the soon-to-be adopted son of our friends, battled chemical burns, heat exhaustion, and heat rash, and all-around managed to be Supermanly. I'm so proud of him. And now I want him HOME. Do you hear me? HOME. I wasn't cut out for single-momhood. (Nor am I very good at dealing with the envy I feel every time I think of him hugging the kids I've come to love.)

Forgive my insitence and the tinge of desperation you might hear in my online voice. But I can't help myself. I was supposed to be sharing my bed with my hubby tonight (did I mention I strongly dislike sleeping alone?). Instead, he's stuck in Brussels and I'm wearing long johns and two pairs of socks for one more night (my bed is cold!). I hope. It better not be more than one more night. I'll scream, and wherever you are, I bet you'd hear it.

Life's not fair, is it? Here's Aaron, probably sitting at a sidewalk cafe in Brussels, sipping a frothy Belgian beer, and enjoying a pretty little corner of Europe.

And here's me, single mom extraordinare, though a lot less sexy and chic (think tangled hair, drool stained shirt, and tired eyes--though the cooking, reading, mothering, working, telephone-talking, exercising, grocery-buying part is pretty true to life. All she's missing is Bible study leading, children's church planning, 4th book writing, and snow shoveling.) As far as I'm concerned, the life of the modern mom is far less Zen-like than this lovely young lady suggests. No less busy, mind you.

Anyway, I'm pouting. Bad habit, I know. The truth is, we survived just fine and I'm sure he's as homesick for us as we are for him. Plus, it's winter in Brussels, too, so the sidewalk cafe thing is the product of my overactive imagination. Though I don't doubt the beer part for one second. And I don't blame him a bit. Cheers to you, Aar. I'll see you tomorrow sometime. You'd better have Belgian chocolates in one hand and French wine in the other. ;)