I once got kidnapped taking out the trash…or notPosted: 2011/07/25
I have lots and lots of The Husband stories. I’ve been with him for almost exactly 13 years. In that span of time we have had some great adventures. I met him at work, he fell in like with my business talk and pursued me with dress clothing, chili cheese Fritos, music and poetry. He is 3.5 years younger than me and at the time it was big hurdle for me to overcome. Eventually his eyelashes, fact he was in band and tongue ring won the battle and very quickly after we hooked up the first time we were a couple. We knew we wanted to be together forever 3 months in, got engaged on Good Friday at 5 months, moved into our first house that we built at about 1 year and got married at a year and a half. We had MiniMe 2.5 years later and The Destroyer almost exactly 3 years after that. When we were building our life we built it quickly. Later when we were destroying it we destroyed it just as quickly. We are nothing if not efficiently connected.
I had moved something six times in the years since I’d graduated from college, from one apartment to a better one, and so on. I’d spent 3 or so months with Texas living with me and 9 months living with Mick. I was DONE moving and wanted to build a house. I knew I wanted 2-3 kids depending on how old I was when I had the first 2. This was the late 90’s when zero down programs and low interest rates and builders competing for your dollar made it really easy to get a lot of house for not a ridiculous amount of money. Still we were young and budget constrained and we picked a big house on an amazing lot in a middle of the road starter neighborhood for our county. I still remember visiting the builder model home and walking through it. We hadn’t really planned on buying that big but we landed on a two story 4 bedroom house with about 2300 square feet. I to this day still love and miss that house and yard. The best thing about our first house was the view in the back. It backed up to a common area retention pond and an actual creek. There was the hood walking path that went right along the back of our property. From my deck I could sit and see both woods and water. These woods and that path went all along the back of the hood and up through the woods into another hood. We lived there for 8+ years and then built the home we live in now.
Now when we first moved we were one of the early houses in our section. Some neighbors were already there and more were coming. Not long after across the street from us was a young couple about our age. Now I know this will surprise you, but it took us as neighbors a year or two to become friends. We would wave or say hello while working outside but no one pushed it any further than that. Being friends with your neighbors is a tricky double edged sword. It can work out great or go on to be a nightmare. At some point in time Dr. H and I started going for walks with the babies in strollers on the path. We probably made that walk with some version of babies in strollers or bellies over 100 times. The kids became very close and Dr. H and I were also good friends. But on this night our friendship was young and we were still building it. So no walks yet, but we must of talked about maids at some point because I need to give her the number of ours.
It was trash night, I left the house to take the trash to the curb. I set the big can down and walked across the street to give Dr. H the name and number of the maids we were using. It was fallish weather and almost dark out. I ring the bell and tell her what I have for her and she invites me in. This was the first time I’d been inside her house and we spend about a half an hour talking about the maids, checking out all the options and cool things she has done to her house etc. About 30-45 minutes later I go to leave and step out into the hood. It’s quite dark. There are two police cars in front of my house, there is a cop standing at my door step talking to my husband and there are people EVERYWHERE with flashlights, they seem to be heading back to the path or on the path. It was all kind of surreal. I walk calmly across the street and as I walk up to my door the cop shines a flash light at me and says. “Is that her sir? She isn’t wearing a blue shirt like you said she was.” The Husband had noticed I didn’t come back in from taking out the trash, and had called the cops to report me missing. The husband asks me where I was and I explain I was just across the street giving the maids phone number to Dr. H. No one is bruised or crying or acting scared or shifty so this seems to satisfy the cop and so he calls off whatever posse he had coming and then the neighbors are all alerted that it was a false alarm.
He leaves and we shut the door and I start laughing hysterically. My husband is the MOST laid back guy you may ever meet. He just doesn’t get all riled up and jump to conclusions. He doesn’t over react, he is not the socially outspoken one in the relationship. He is never going to be the one to create or cause a scene, this is just not him. So for him to be upset and scared enough to actually call the cops, and then have it be a simple over reaction. And then have him be embarrassed, and it’s all for love. This is a 6’2″ big dark and hairy man. He is has a goatee and a broad build, he is a bear in looks, but a softy in heart. I’m laughing with him and at him, because it seems the only time he embarrasses himself is over love items for me. Things like his friends finding out he cooks me comfort meals or writes me poetry. I am telling you The Husband has attached his heart and life to mine very concretely. This is the single sweetest and most gone awry show of love he has ever shown.
“What did you do? Did you really think I took out the trash and someone just nabbed me in the driveway?” “Oh it gets worse, he says “They totally thought I did it?” This is just icing on the cake to me and I demand to hear the details of this. Here is the story…
Husband sees I did not come back in from taking trash out. I didn’t tell him I was going across the street because I didn’t plan to be there longer than 30 seconds. He didn’t expect me to be at Dr H’s b/c our friendship was brand new. And I actually did have a not well mental state older brother who I had somewhat reconnected with after my Dad died. My Dad died when I was pregnant with MiniMe. So he thinks his pregnant wife is missing and he is absolutely freaking out.
He alerts the neighbors first, Grandma D and her husband rally the rest of the neighbors to begin a search as Husband calls the cops.
Cop one shows up. In our town they usually come in two’s. How do I know this, well the bomb robot story plus various false security alarm calls have taught me this. Cops one rings doorbell and husband answers. He explains the situation again and the conversation starts to go like this. Meanwhile Cop two shows up and stays down by the cars to organize the search or whatever.
The cope is shining his flashlight in not only my husbands face, but also in and around the portions of our house that he can see. He is obviously looking for signs of a struggle or something else amiss. Then the questions start coming.
” What was she wearing?”
“Is she upset about anything sir?” “Nothing at all huh”
“Is she on any medications?”
” When was the last time you spoke to your wife sir?”
“So she left the house to take out the trash and just vanished huh? She didn’t take her purse or her car, or may not even be wearing shoes?”
The husband is VERY much getting the vibe that he is about to be the one hauled into the car for some further questioning. He is not a stupid man and he knows that his house backs up to a POND and WOODS. He feels like the cop just wants him to tell them where he stashed my bloody body so they can go get it from said pond or woods. And who knows what kind of ropes or duct tape or bungee cords we have in the back of the SUV, great, just great.
This goes on and on for a bit until I show up 3o-45 minutes later walking from across the street and save the day.
What I didn’t know at the time is that he is crap in a crisis. We’ve had a lot of opportunity to handle crisis together in our 13 years and he has gotten so much better. But this is early on and he isn’t there yet because parenthood seems to bring the most opportunity for crisis and we aren’t parents quite yet. So he really truly thought when I just didn’t come back in that yes, something very bad must of happened to me and our baby. I think that big Scott Peterson case was also going on at this time, so it was a current media and social theme. The number one cause of death for a pregnant women is MURDER by the baby Daddy! Statistically he is screwed and of course suspect #1. Poor guy, he was scared that his wife and baby had gone missing and he had to put up with being interrogated AND everyone knowing it was a false alarm.
I had to ask about a few details this morning in order to write this story and he is still embarrassed and I am still giggling. Oh family lore. The time Mommy got kidnapped taking the trash out..or not.