Our Goings On

One bitterly cold day we opted for a little indoor entertainment, in the form of a horse show being held at an arena down the street.  This was the last day of the show.  The riders were cute pre-teenish girls jumping horses at not too astounding heights.  You'll note that it was not exactly sold out, but we had a good time.

For once, Little Guy was allowed to sit by himself.  He thought he was so cool.  He kept changing rows and testing out different seats.

And at every break, we went to get snacks.  No lines and this is the Mister's favorite kind of food--ha!--so we took advantage of it.

 Buddy Boy was an enthusiastic clapper.

We had my dear friend and her sweet baby girl in town this weekend.  Such fun!  I just love loving my friends' children.

 Aaaaaaand, she's particularly easy to love.  Such a friendly, engaging, easygoing dollbaby.

We also returned to Soccer Tots, and actually played a little soccer!  Perhaps from the wrong side of the goal, but who's checking?

And a day or so later, everything started going downdowndownhill.  Little Guy began running a fever, and complaining that his tongue hurt.  I thought he was suffering from some too-hot scrambled eggs he'd had at brunch, but his complaints only grew.  By Monday morning, he was throwing lots o' fits and generally acting miserable.  Regardless, my brave and wonderful friend said she wasn't scared of a fever and invited us over to play, in hopes that a little time out of the house would be good for us all.  We gladly accepted.  Outside of their apartment sits a concrete Georgia Bulldog statue, and the children's tradition is to 'kiss the puppy' on their way in the door.  The two big kids kissed the puppy and that left just Buddy Boy to pay his respects.  He leaned halfway over, and being the new walker that he is, lost his balance and smacked into the statue.  By the time my friend swooped him up and turned to hand him to me, he had an outrageously huge goose egg on his forehead.  It was shocking...about the size of half a ping pong ball and so immediate.  We called my friend's kind husband, who happens to be a pediatrician at the children's hospital in town, and asked for his advice.  He said to just keep an eye on Buddy Boy, watching for lethargy, inconsolability or vomiting.  And then Buddy Boy vomited.  And his balance, such as it is, seemed off.  So, brave and wonderful friend then took her braveness and wonderfulness to another level by offering to keep fever boy while I went to the ER with Buddy Boy.  Ugh.  I hated to leave one sicky for another, but head injuries trump fevers.

Buddy Boy and I spent 6.5 hours at the ER, which was so busy that doctor-patient consultations were being held in the waiting rooms.  Everybody knew what everyone else was in there for, and the results of each test and the progress of each case.  I was just really thankful we weren't the ones with a Lego in the lung.  Buddy Boy enjoyed himself immensely, making friends with other patients, trying to sneak behind the automated double doors, scaling the sofa to turn out the waiting room lights, and playing with the doctors' stethoscopes.  All except the straight-jacketed CT scan, for which I had to leave the room to protect baby #3.  For that, he screamed like a madman until, apparently, he fell deeply asleep and they were able to scan his head.  Once it was, thankfully, confirmed that there was no bleeding on his brain, we were on our way home.  But he's got one really terrible bruise for his efforts.

Meanwhile, Little Guy had slept most of the day away at my friend's apartment, and acted strange once the Mister went to retrieve him.  He slept fitfully and feverishly, was drooling a lot and slurring his words, and in the morning, I discovered a mouth full of sores.  Welcome to the Snodgrass family, Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease.  Hope you won't be staying long.  Wow.  I had no idea how bad this would be.  Little Guy is completely miserable.  He is in constant pain, especially when he tries to eat, and is crying most of the day.  We're dosing him up with Tylenol and Advil around the clock, and swabbing the sores with a mixture of Benadryl and Maalox.  He's sleeping in the bed with me, and we're giving him whatever food he thinks he can get down.  He says lemonade feels good (seems odd, I know, but that's what he says), so I took him to McDonald's today for a frozen strawberry lemonade, which he learned to love this summer as an after-pool treat.  After much upset, eighty-two car seat bucklings and unbucklings, and insistence that I carry both him and Buddy Boy into the restaurant (in addition to my purse, a sippy cup, and this belly of mine!), we struggled our way inside, ordered our food and paid, only to then be told that they were all out of frozen strawberry lemonade.  I felt like crying.  Little Guy did cry.  Which, of course, made Buddy Boy cry.  Which then made the man taking advantage of the free wi-fi give us evil glances.  And to cap off our adventure, Buddy Boy managed to climb all the way to the top of the big kid part of the play space and get himself stuck.  So, to the top I went (again, with this belly of mine!).  After that, I left the premises, with a screaming child on each hip.  Now, they are both napping, but every 15 minutes or so, Little Guy has a 5-minute crying jag.  This is pretty pitiful.

Tomorrow has got to be better, right?