Here is a special treat for all of you in blogland: A guest post today from the one and only Mr. Goat.
This past weekend and the upcoming week are the resident blogger's busiest time of the year, but more about that later. Accordingly, this week I believe that you will see some sporadic posting and some guest bloggers. Today's post is brought to you by Mr. Goat, whose comments in no way reflect those of the resident blogger, except for when they do.
As I already mentioned, this time of year is the resident blogger's busiest at work. Some years the week had coincided with our anniversary--that wasn't the case this year, but it has been in the past. This year and last, the weekend reserved to prepare for the week included Fathers' day. It has in other years too, but I wasn't a father in those years so I wasn't paying that much attention. What you should know is that the weekend generally requires 12 to 18 hour days for the resident blogger on Saturday and Sunday.
I promised you a tale of two Fathers' days so here you are:
Last year it was my first fathers' day. I figured the rewards were about to start accruing back to me--excepting the year that I forgot, and the other year that I forgot (but the first year that I forgot I got my dad a daughter in law the day before). I had been a SAHD for the last month and knew that the weekend would be more of the same, plus some extra in the evening. No big deal.
BUT, baby goat was outgrowing his Zantac dose and he was in great pain from acid reflux. He spent the whole day screaming and there wasn't a lot I could do for him. Sister Goat, who was here for the week to help spent part of the day helping the resident blogger at work, but came home in the afternoon to help me, and huge help she was. It wasn't a bad day, but it was a trying one in the life and times of Baby Goat.
Fast forward to this this year: the resident blogger had several evening events at the end of the week and daycare was closed on Friday. That meant three days in which I would be responsible for essentially all parenting activities. My mom suggested that Baby Goat and I spend the weekend at her house--an invitation that seemed like the way to go.
We went out to lunch with Grampa and Sister Goat to escape the vaccuum cleaner and then went to visit Grandma at her office and to a park to burn some energy.
After a nap, there was a ride from Grampa in the wagon that was built by my Grandpa. It's fun to see Baby Goat enjoy my toys, but it's even better to see him enjoy something like that. I know that Grandpa would be thrilled to know his great grandson was enjoying that wagon. (Sorry, no picture from me, but I think my dad's camera has some).
Saturday was equally eventful and then some. There was a playdate with one of my high school friends and his kids, an outing with grandma and Grampa, and dinner out. I spent the day trying to figure out a special brother-sister date to take Sister Goat on.
At bedtime, Baby Goat wasn't feeling well. He was having a lot of trouble breathing and didn't want to be put into bed. I decided it was was time to go see a Doctor--so Sister Goat, Baby Goat and I went to the Urgent Care/Emergency Room at the local hospital. (The local hospital is called "River's Edge, but they built it on top of the hill and on the prairie. What's up with that?)
At the same time we were there, there were two much more serious emergencies that came in by ambulance. One had to be airlifted out, which took longer than I expected. We heard the helicopter land and then heard it take off about 30 minutes later.
There was a chest x-ray, there were labs, and there were several nebulizer treatments. There was also a lot of waiting. Baby Goat though is very patient, no pun intended, and an excellent patient. The contraption they use to take a toddler's chest x-ray is monstrous looking, but Baby Goat took it like a champ.
The ER doc told us early on that Baby Goat would have to spent the night in the hospital. The local on call doc wasn't comfortable taking him as a patient because she deals primarily with adults, so we were going to have to move. I entertained trying to get back to the cities and to Baby Goat's first "home" --the hospital where the NICU was, but that was a silly idea. We decided to take him to a nearby hospital. First, I was going to drive him, but after talking to the ER doc and watching Baby Goat need so many nebulizer treatments and struggle mightily to breathe, I decided we'd better go by ambulance.