Well, it's not thrush...

so what is it and why did he get sick? My Twin A is still ill, weepy and fussy; his fever goes from 100.9 to 98.8 with Tylenol, but apart from a little nursing this morning at 7:00, he is not drinking mother’s milk. He will drink from a sippy cup, so I got a little baby food/yogurt smoothie into him.

We saw the pediatrician today who said, "Number one, he still has an ear infection, which explains the fever and the discomfort. Number two, the mouth sores look like a virus, not thrush." There are five or six sores on his inner lips, his gums are swollen and there is a white coating on his tongue. And there is one open sore on the underside of his tongue as well. I looked on Google and saw a bit about canker sores, which match my baby’s symptoms. The site recommends using a rinse of Maalox and Benadryl syrup, which the pediatrician recommended as well. So, he may have a vitamin deficiency. But I though breast-fed babies got vitamins through their mothers?

Does anyone have any experience with canker sores in babies who have had ear infections? This is all new to me. All reasonable suggestions will be considered.

And George, what are your thoughts?

What kind of terrible mother am I anyway?

I guess a really busy, somewhat overwhelmed and harried one. My twin A has been drooling and fussing for a few days now, but, for reasons I really can't go into, we felt compelled to drag him to four different events over this weekend. First we went to a Christmas Eve thing, then we slept at my parents’ house so we could all wake up and open presents together on Christmas Day. Then we went to another Christmas Day thing, a 90-minute drive from my parents’ house, and then, on Boxing Day, we had another thing to attend. The baby has been crying on and off since the 23rd, and I have just kept him going.

In hindsight, the hindsight of the day after, I see that staying at my parents’ house then going to three parties with a baby who can’t sleep, eat or nurse comfortably because he has OPEN SORES IN HIS MOUTH and a fever from thrush, was a big mistake. The babies have been on a course of antibiotics, for ear infections, for the past ten days and Twin A got thrush as a result.

Yes, two days ago, on the last day of amoxicillin, when he stopped nursing and started fussing, I saw a white coating on his tongue. I remarked on it to the DH, who told me, “Oh, it’s just milk, he’s fine.” Curses upon me, boo hiss Bad Mother am I, for not listening to that instinct-inner-warning-signal thing. I was so busy getting the bags packed and the car ready and the bloody polar bear out of the bloody tree that I didn’t stop, sit down and really look carefully at my precious baby. The white patches are still there and today, as his mouth was wide open, to facilitate screaming, I saw an open, slightly bloody, sore on the underside of his tongue. No wonder he has been unhappy! I KNEW there was something wrong! On Christmas Eve he howled for about two hours before going to sleep. TWO HOURS! I thought he was too wound up, unable to sleep and unwilling to eat because he was upset at not being at home. My mother said, “Oh, it’s colic.” Colic!? That is just a medical term for sorry, we-have-no-idea-what’s-wrong-with-your-baby. Not to belittle parents and babies who have suffered from colic, for them it is very real. I just mean that my baby A has never been colicky, even as a three month old, so why would he suddenly develop it at 15 months? I should have known something was not right.

The next day, during the present opening frenzy and general fracas of four toddlers in a completely non-baby proof house, every little thing set him off. His brother was equally pissy from having is plant destroying attempts thwarted, so by the time we had to leave to go to our next party I had the mother of all headaches, and a real worry about my boys. Neither had eaten much, nor nursed much either, especially Baby A. Why was he crying so much, and why wouldn’t he nurse? He’s usually my milk-guzzling boy.

On the way to the next party, they napped the whole 90 minute ride, and arrived feeling okay. Half an hour into the visit – scream central. Again. We found some push toys and got them to eat some steak, but after two hours, we were all totally ready to get out of Dodge and get home. They were DEEE-lighted to be back in their own house. We had a lovely bath, a nice snack and we all slept fairly well, mostly from exhaustion.

Yesterday we spent a somewhat odd morning at home. Twin A cried all over the place, from the time he woke up at 6:00 am to when he fell asleep in a glider and napped for three hours, which is most unusual. After he awoke he seemed pretty happy, ate some lunch and we went to our fourth and final holiday thang. They were fine in the car on the way and seemed happy for about twenty minutes after we had arrived, but as more people arrived, they became upset, especially Baby A. Baby B had some snacks and some yogurt, and was willing to talk and be petted and to be held, but Baby A just cried and cried. During one crying jag I got a peek in his mouth and saw the open sore. I called the pediatrician right away, who confirmed my suspicion of thrush. BUT the pharmacies are closed, so we have to wait until later today to call another pedi to call in the prescription to chase the demon fungus away from my baby.

I feel angry and worried and angry and upset and really angry; at myself and at the anti-biotic that caused this painful situation. I know an ear infection can lead to hearing damage if left untreated and that ear infections can really hurt too, but it is so hard to know your little baby is weeping with discomfort and an achy mouth, unable to nurse and unable to eat because of the pain and there is nothing you, his mother, can do about it. I am so angry with myself for not checking him out better and getting something to help him on Friday when this all began. He might have even started working on the thrush on Thursday, but I was busy fretting over the wretched polar bear dangling in the tree. I feel guilty about not being more patient and tender with him. I started crying when I sat down to write this, thinking about Baby A with open sores in his mouth and Baby B unhappy and unwilling being put in a car and being driven all over to cry at other people’s houses.

Both boys are sleeping now. The DH rocked my Baby B to sleep. He’s good like that – Baby B I mean. He is willing to be soothed and rocked to sleep if he must. Besides, he’s been nursing all day. But Baby A – he cried and screamed and cried for about an hour tonight, did not nurse, and eventually fell asleep next to me in his bed at 9:00 pm. Then he woke up at 1:00 am and cried pretty much non-stop until 3:15. We checked his temperature, which was 103.5, gave him Tylenol and the DH drove him around the block to get him to sleep. He knocked out at 4:00 am. Then he was up again crying at 5:15 am; we checked his temperature, it was only 98.8, so I rocked him to sleep for another hour. Now at 6:30am, they are both up and running. Poor Baby B is not getting the attention he needs, but what can I do? I am worried because Baby A is not breast-feeding, and has not nursed at all since lunchtime yesterday. He’s not eaten much at all either and has had only three wet diapers yesterday, instead of his usual six or seven. Were so concerned we actually gave him vanilla Breyer’s ice cream for dinner; using the logic it’s filling and cold and sweet enough to be tempting. Then he had half a juice box and wept to bed.

I have so many questions for that pediatrician today, such as: How long does it take to get rid of thrush? Is Baby B going to get infected as well? Now that they are off the amoxicillin, can I hope the infection will clear up on its own? Because his tongue is so painful he won’t let me look at it, let alone touch it, so how can I get any kind of medicinal drops on it? Am I going to get an infection as well, since he has done some nursing? And if I do, what can I use to keep the other baby from becoming thrushy too? And how am I going to manage when the DH is out of town for two days, starting tomorrow? I have a feeling there will be a lot of tears in this house without him, and they’ll be coming from all three of us.

George, what do you think we should do?

OKAY, OKAY

In all my silly mischievousness, I have never actually taken lawn ornaments from their rightful owners. I have just re-arranged them, or even donated one or two. BUT this crisp, sunny morning, my boys rush downstairs to turn on the Christmas tree lights and the light inside our Wal-Mart brand, plump, plastic polar bear that adorns our lawn and all we saw were tracks in the snow.


It had been stolen.


EDITED AT 7:30 PM

Well, one of my DH's buddies ‘fessed up over the phone. It turns out he took the polar bear and had a crony assist him lynching my plastic polar bear. Yes, they told us where it was and out we went to view the crime scene. My innocent bear is now dangling from an iron hook 25 feet up a pine tree. I never would have spotted it on my own, especially since the tree is in the neighbor's side yard. Now I have to borrow an extension ladder from someone and cut down the body. I guess I was due a trick played on me – I’m really glad the bear was not actually stolen, but who lynches a polar bear?

What’s funny is that this morning I rushed out and bought a little plastic Santa leaning against a lamppost, so the boys would have a glowing thing to admire from the front window. The way I am going, I’ll have a whole lawn full of light up delights. It’s ghetto-tastic!

Just when you think you have it all worked out...

My Dear Husband has received a job offer in a galaxy far, far away, and he is flying out for an interview next week. From what I have heard about this place/state/city, it is fun, hip, affordable and surrounded by beautiful mountains and about an hour from the ocean. However, this location is also a seven-hour flight away from my immediate family, his friends of many years and my newfound, wonderful playgroups.

So, just when you think you have it all worked out, and finally have some semblance of a social life, the Universe tosses the proverbial monkey wrench into the allegorical cogs of your little existence and makes you think: What Is Important Here?

Ever since the Great Bad Mother Debacle, and the ensuing emotional tsunami, I have tried my best to be a better mother; not whining so much, complaining too much and mouthing off at will. I have also not hung out with the people involved in the Debacle, which is too bad; they were the only friends I had within a 90-minute drive. But that is my own fault, and there is no one but me to blame. However, I have not been forced to a life of solitude – thanks to a fondness for Char-Bucks’ coffee and meeting the lovely Corgi Friend, I now have a playgroup to attend once a week. Thanks to that playgroup I have met some really cool people, who I am delighted to call my friends, and one of whom inspired me to cut off all my hair, a decision with which I am happy on a daily basis. Through her have another playgroup on another weekday, all of which means I finally have something of a regular get-out-of-the-house thing going on, which is all I wanted in the first place! You know, something to do, somewhere to go and someone to see. The great thing about hanging out with these parents at these playgroups is that all the members are somewhat new in the area, which is the reason for the group’s existence - to give new members of the community something to do, somewhere to go and someone to see. There is no one in these groups, (except me, actually!) who has a lot of family close by, and no one else has been in the state for an extended period of time. I like that about the group; everyone has a different experience and we are able to see each other from different viewpoints. There’s no truer saying than that tired old one: travel broadens the mind. I feel good about the friends I have made since August, and I look forward to getting to know some of these people better over the coming years.

At least, I had, until the DH came home with the news about the potential job on the other side of the country.

Now, my Darling Husband has lived in this state, actually this same town, since he was a few days old. He was born in a hospital one town over, for the sole reason that our town does not have its own hospital. Then he has lived in only three different homes, all in this same town. He runs into people with whom he was in grade school on a regular basis and he knows more ways to get from here to there than anyone I have ever met. However, he does feel a bit claustrophobic at times, and who could blame him? Since the scary twins were born, and even a bit before that, he had not had a lot of visitors or social events or hang out with the guys nights. I go out more than he does, but that’s because I have the twin mom club, and the monthly dinner, where I force other mothers to get out of the house and have expensive dinners with me in our little city next door. I am quite happy here, in the first house I have ever really owned and the first garden I have ever planted with the idea that I will get to see it for the next several years to come. I like to travel, and have enjoyed my meanderings, but I had thought this was going to be a settle down house for my little family and me and kind of had my head wrapped around that idea. I like the thought of actually being part of a community and living in one place for a while.

Then again, I have to think of the Devoted Husband. If he gets a new job, with more responsibility, and where he’s all-important and learning new things and doing cool stuff, he definitely will be happier. He likes his job now, but he is somewhat isolated, as the only person in the company who does what he does and has projects and assignments where he is completely on his own. This new position promises to be part of a larger team, where he will have more direct co-workers and will be higher up as well. AND the area in which we would live is a skiers'/mountain bikers'/runners’ paradise; trails, hills and ski resorts abound. That part does sound pretty great.

But what about my new friends, new garden and new house? What my twins being so close to New Jersey and my sister and BIL and their cousins? What about all my plans to put on an addition, to build a deck, to install a hot tub and to do this that and the other? But then again, we could just buy a house with a deck, a hot tub and a fireplace already installed.

See, I am of two minds about all this. I have a few really good friends with whom I have kept in touch, and I also I manage to visit every few years. Some are in Atlanta, another is in Nashville, and the rest are in Europe – in Sweden and in England. So, vast distances don’t bother me or hinder me from having buddies: no has distance ever really been a factor with my family and me. At one point, I was living in London, England; my sister was in Florence, Italy and my brother was in Kyoto, Japan. Then, a few years later, we were all on the west side of Manhattan, within 50 blocks of each other. My life had always been somewhat transient and unpredictable. But the DH is different. His friends thinks the next state over is far away, and it’s a big deal for them to drive two hours to see someone. Not that there is anything wrong with that at all, no, I think it’s great. The point is – if we were a seven hour flight away, would that mean my twins would not get to know any of my Dear Husband’s friends? My parents and siblings travel, always have, always will, so I am not worried about them, but would my DH be lost to his friends? And, odd as it seems, I am not sure it would it upset him. They never come to visit him now, nor do they even call, and he is no more than an hour and a half drive from the furthest buddy. Perhaps if he were to up and move, they would miss him and realize they want to see him. But would they make the trip? Or would these people be like Harry Chapin's Cats in the Cradle, and be so busy making plans and running around that they miss the babies' growing up? Since this is still all speculation, who knows? And if I'm right and he is lost to those he knew, will it matter? Do we want to find out?

Okay – so here’s what happened.

Basically, everything went according to plan! Which is amazing, when you factor in the two toddlers, total age 30 months, (one two and a half year old in New York City is problematic enough) and the thirty-degree weather (with wind chill…who knows how cold it was?)

We had a great visit at the pediatrician’s office; the boys have had colds for about the past month and a half. I have put it down to the lovely play groups I would not be able to live without constantly re-infecting my pumpkins, who have, jointly, the terrible habit of picking a sippy cup off the floor, checking it out and then sipping away – whether or not it belongs to them. Hmmm. Can you say please give me your cold? As a result, they have had runny noses for the past month and a half. The upshot is (drum roll) ear infections for both boys. Now, I have been busy patting myself on the back that extended nursing has prevented this miserable specter of baby and child hood from rearing its ugly, infected head, but I guess snuffly noses and congestion for extended periods of time bring on otitis media, even with the best preventative measures in place. So, we had to stop at the pharmacy and get the required bottles of pink bubble gummy antibiotic we all remember from our own infected childhoods.

We were on our way by 11-ish and made it to the parking garage on 57th street by 12:30. A quick aside regarding this garage, if you’re ready? Whenever I say garage, I like to say gah-RAGE, because back in the eighties, when New York was gritty, dirty and of 20 people polled 18 said they would love to move out of the city, but couldn’t afford to move, back then I lived on Manhattan. I lived at the very northernmost tip of the island, in a very unfashionable neighborhood that I called Dominican Crack-Ville after the hood’s population and main livelihood. (My building had two white families and me. The rest of the over ninety apartments were occupied by Latinos. I have nothing against those of Hispanic descent, my own sister in law is Hispanic, but it is somewhat disconcerting to move from the sheltered area of New England where I spent many formative years to one of the most notoriously drug ridden sections of a major city, where there are smoke shops on the block next to my building. By “smoke shop” I do not mean a place to purchase cigars. I mean a place with a bullet proofed cashier booth and glass pipes on display.) Anyway, I used take cabs home very rarely, it was about $20 it was so far from anywhere I wanted to be, so when I did, I made sure to gape out the window so as not to miss a glimpse of what was usually 50 feet above the normally Subway riding me. One night the cab was heading to the Henry Hudson Parkway and I saw the neon sign for the 57th Street garage. The G and the A were burned out and it read 57th Street RAGE. Hmmm.

So, anyway, we got to the garage and the restaurant right on time and Miss Fabulous was waiting for us. I have actually been to this Indian place before, and the DH thought the food was great. (He loves spicy cuisine and he told me later he had to visit the men’s room twice on account of the curry’s power. I told him he might have eaten too much, especially of the lamb, which had burned a hole in the metal serving dish, but he said he liked it spicy… ) The babies were highly entertained by watching the cook make bread in a gen-yoou-ine coal fired oven and pull it out with his bare hands. Geez, I’m glad I’m not a cook anymore.

After lunch we walked over to Rockefeller Center, took a tree picture, then I went into Saks Fifth Avenue on my own while the DH went to get the car.

My goodness I have forgotten how richly glamorous the New York lady who shops at Saks can be! You could barely turn around without your path being blocked by a mink or fox fur clad creature fondling a $3,000 handbag. I went directly to the Ladies’ Lounge to give the boys a snack, and then went back down to the main floor to the millinery department. Alas, the hat I had seen was sold out. But I did get to try on a bunch of Daniel Boone style raccoon hats for some dude who said he needed to get a sense of how they fit. Apparently the hat was a gift for his wife, who has short short boy short hair like mine. The one he liked best I liked least, and the saleslady agreed. She looked very pleased when I picked up a hat with cashmere lining that he was not considering and said, “Now THIS one is really nice and it covers the ears.” Apparently, she had told him that the hat with cashmere was the best right off, but he had picked out the other ones. So I reinforced her excellent taste. She gave me a wink as I left; the dude was buying the cashmere hat.

Anyway, the DH called me as I was leaving the Cosmetics Department, I told him we were finished and he pulled up outside the store on 50th Street, right where I was standing. Nicely done, Honey Bun. (But I found out later it was a big deal for him – his first time driving in New York, without a guide and without a map. And I just hopped in the car and said, “Okay, now let’s go over to Park and up to the Met. It’s on 5TH Avenue at 80th Street.” The poor guy was probably still sweating bullets from driving over from the parking garage.)

Then we met my sister at the Met, the babies oohed and ohhed and made grabbing gestures at the Angel Tree, then we had a snack in the new café. By this time it was 4:00, and we thought it best to get going. So we drove the DS (Dear sister!) to her car, about ten freezing cold and windy blocks away, as she directed us to her car in her usual big city style. (Get going people! We’re going to miss the f***g light! And so on.) Then she said, “Follow me!” and off she zoomed, cursing and shaking her fist out the window at busses and cabs alike. (No, I’m kidding. She didn’t shake her fist at the cabs…she flipped them off instead.) We made it back to her house in good time, with just a quick stop on Madison Avenue to try on this other hat, which they had in stock and which looked sooooo chic. Here it is, I may get it in black, whattya think? Click here

We arrived chez DS with relatively happy babies, but hungry babies. They had napped in the car, obviously not wanting to witness their father screeching through the Manhattan Streets, chasing their Aunt at 60 miles an hour. They were up, ready to eat and play and have a bath; just like any other night at home. With the addition of two cousins, natch.

The next day we had planned on going back to the city to go to Fairway, and do some other bits and pieces, but the twenty-degree weather proved a deterrent, so I satisfied my exotic grocery shopping desires at Mitsuwa and Whole Foods. I know Whole Foods isn’t that exotic, but it’s nice and where else can you get weird snacks like these except at a Japanese market?

All in all we had a fine time, got home yesterday at 7:00 PM, and my babies were so happy to be home they played extra hard today. Which meant one baby fell off a trunk, biting a hole in his tongue and getting a big, purple lump on his forehead and the other baby dove off the top step, of five steps, landed on his head and hands, flipped over and came down on his bottom on the floor. I had a friend over for coffee at the time and she said, “Did your baby just do a handspring down the steps? Wow.” Fortunately, he does not appear to be injured, nor does he act distressed in anyway. I checked him out – no fixed dilation of the pupils, no vomiting, no listlessness, no unusual sleepiness, and no unusual pallor. Therefore, no second trip to the ER. Which is a good thing; I have had quite enough excitement for the time being. The New York trip was a great success, but was rather exhausting. I am going to need at least two days before we do anything thrilling again. For my next adventure I am planning on….well, I won’t say yet. I’ll just say, “It’s midnight…Do you know where your holiday decorations could be?”

Will my schemes gang aft a-gley?

According to Robert Burns, “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft a-gley.” In plain speakin’ he was saying “Your plans will get effed up.” I hope not, for I am planning a trip to New York with my Dear Husband and twins boys tomorrow. Here’s what we hope will happen: At 9:00 am we have a visit with the pediatrician (or, as I keep saying, the vet (thirty years of cats, you see)), then on the road to New York. It should take about 90 minutes door to door, barring accidents and other hysteria, of course. At 12:30 we are meeting a friend for lunch. This friend is a chicklet, so totally cool, totally New York hip and just so-so, but the nicest creature around. She’ll also tell it like it is, so get ready for the facts when you see her. Once she told me that a guy I was dating was all wrong for me; she had tried to engage him in small talk at a family party and she decided he had “zero personality.” She was quite right, as it turned out, so what she says is worth hearing.

My lovely New York friend has found an Indian joint for lunch, which should be quite fine, she has been to India several times, so I trust she can recognize authentic cuisine. (I had wanted to go to Aquavit , but the hostess told me, “I am so sorry, but we do not allow children under twelve in our dining room.” Excuse me? Can you say discrimination suit? So I said, “Okay, I’ll call back in eleven years.” At least the hostess had the grace to chuckle.)

When we have inhaled our lunch (DH and I) and/or flung it to the floor (the babies and I - if I don't like it - ha ha) we will be tourists and gape at the tree at Rockefeller Center. After all, the babies need to be exposed to my favorite things early, right? Then, a quick shifty at Saks to try on this hat I saw in a magazine. Then we are going uptown to the Met, where my sister, of legend and song, will be to meet us. We plan on seeing the Angel Christmas Tree in the Medieval Wing and from there I want to go to another shop, on Madison Avenue, to see another hat. Then we are going to this awesome grocery store, Fairway, in Harlem, with an actual meat locker, where they give you an overcoat to slip on in the summer it is so cold in the meat locker, and where they are rumored to have approximately 500 different kinds of olives. From Fairway we will continue north and stay overnight with my sister, and not at a hotel as originally planned, thus saving a few bucks. Which I plan on blowing on a new hat.

So – tune in, mice and men and gentle readers, to read what actually gangs a-gley.

You know you are tired when…

you spend about ten minutes looking for your glasses, and when you find them and put them on, you discover you were wearing contact lenses all along…

you leave the house in your pink slippers and don’t notice until you get out of the car at Stop and Shop…

you are looking in your handbag, the diaper bag and your pockets, muttering, “Where are those keys?” when you realize the car is still running…

you squirt saline solution on your toothbrush and it actually takes a minute for the salty taste to penetrate the fog in your brain…

you know your dear husband is tired when you ask him to buy more coffee on the way home from work, because you are both tired and have been drinking a lot of it lately.

He brings home decaf.

Of one eyed Pomeranians and playing practical jokes

On Sunday night my Dear Husband and I left the house at 5:00 to get a gallon of milk. We were out for over five hours.

This is what happened. On the way to the store, (Stop and Shop, if you must know), both babies fell asleep. Since it is best to let sleeping babies lie (since they are, apparently, unable to tell the truth) I went into the Stupor-Market and the DH stayed behind. A quick shop later (yes, I am incapable of going into a store and coming out with just the one thing I went in for. In this case I got the milk, a seam ripper, a tube of blue Maybelline Great Lash (to go with my 80’s hair-do) and a box of organic Fig Newmans- for the babies.) My poor DH was bored to tears in the car – so he said, because he didn’t have a book, a magazine, or anything. So, to make him feel loved, I suggested we take a drive over to one of his friend’s houses to rearrange the light-up deer on his front lawn.

We crept past the house, and the DH leapt out. He sneaked across the grass, grabbed the deer, unplugged it and was swallowed in the darkness. I kept the getaway vehicle running. I couldn’t really see what he was doing, but he told me that he moved the deer, which also bends its head, to graze, I suppose, from the lawn next to the driveway to the pool deck. There is an outlet there, so he was able to keep the “grazing” effect. No one came bursting out of the house, I guess they didn’t notice the glowing deer on the deck right away, and we made a clean getaway.

High on the success of our escapade, we went over to another friends’ house, to rearrange their lawn ornaments. However, the house we had selected, mostly for its proximity to the first house, was absolutely dark! No lights, no deer, no snowmen with light bulbs inside, or glow in the dark candy canes or anything. I know these people live in a somewhat snooty part of town, but in my part of the planet even snooty types ornament their homes for the holidays. We were most disappointed and needed another victim; the babies were still asleep.

Luckily, I do know someone who lives in the same town as the intended victims. I had been to her house once, for a playgroup and I remembered the name of her street and I always have a street atlas in the car. Off we went, plotting our mischief and zooming through the dark streets, hunched over my handy-dandy atlas.

Then, suddenly, in the middle of the dark country road, I spied a little orange fuzzy critter. At first I wasn’t sure if it was a long legged rabbit, or a twisted looking cat, but I stopped and the DH got out. He picked it up, and we were amazed to see it was a very small dog. It was about five pounds and looked as if there was something wrong with one of its eyes; it was bulgy and weepy. (The eye, not the dog – the dog didn’t make a squeak during this whole ordeal.) As the DH stood next to the open car door, and we debated whether we should start knocking on doors, a van came screeching past, almost knocking us off the road. That decided us; we would continue on to the friend’s house, possibly rearrange her holiday decorations and then innocently ask her for some dog food. She has a Corgi.

Now with a puffy little old lady lap dog added to the mix, we continued on our way, now seeking canine nourishment as well as harmless amusement. We arrived at her place, and since the DH has been petting this poor beast all the while, we discovered he had a big tick on his neck, a trembling back paw and the eye that bulged out was most likely just supposed to be like that – he showed no signs of being in pain. We pull into her driveway, and I went to the door, walking past a front lawn disappointingly devoid of ANYTHING. I knock-knocked, and her puzzled looking husband opened the door.

Me: Hi! Remember me from the playgroup? My husband and I came over to rearrange your Christmas lawn decorations, but since you don’t have any, may we borrow some dog food?

Her DH: Uh, sure! Want to come in? How about some wine?

I went in and saw I was clearly interrupting their dinner. (Later she reassured me they were in a post-dinner-slump, and just been asking each other – Well, what do you want to do? She said I actually provided her with some amusement, which had been my original goal.) But they graciously listened to my mad babbling and came outside to see what kind of dog we had rescued/stolen. “Oh! It’s a Pomeranian!” she exclaimed. “Wow, he’s cute. I bet he was expensive.” Then one of my boys woke up and started yelling. The DH had been pulling on the tick all the while, and the baby’s yell made him jump and he dropped it. (I still have not managed to find it. I hope it’s not still in car, getting hungrier and hungrier, just looking for a warm body to suck dry…..ewwww) So, we all decided to go back inside, and call the Dog Warden. Unfortunately, since it was 7:30 at this point, the office was closed, so I called the local police station, and spoke to a decent chappie, who called the dog warden at home. At first he made it sound as if we would be stuck with this fluffy beast until morning, but I implied the dog was injured, and he said he would see what he could do. Since my friend’s husband (who shall be referred to as DH #2 for the remainder of this posting for the sake of brevity/simplicity) since DH#2 is in the medical profession and had been an EMT, I suggested he look at the eye to see what was amiss. He, quite professionally and rather cleverly, I thought, pointed out that one of the eyes was missing and that a cataract covered the other eye, so the dog was most likely blind. (I actually had not fibbed to the PO-lice; the dog really was injured! Whew! I just paid for a speeding ticket – I don’t want to add any more padding to my file down at the station.) We tried to get Mr. One–Eyed Pomeranian-with-a-Limp to drink some water, but he just wanted to hobble around the garage, sniffing the air. So, we left him in there and us girls sat in the living room, both of my boys were up at this point, waiting for the Dog Warden to call back. I nursed my babies, who then were happy to play with the little girl of the house, as DH #2 gave my DH (#1) a tour of the house and told him all about the new plumbing. They drank beer.

The Dog Catcher did eventually call back, told us she had picked this dog up before – yep – he has a record – and he apparently is very old. (So the limp is arthritis. Poor thing.) If we could keep him safe for the night, she would come by at 7:00 am and collect him, then try and find the owner. My friend said she could keep the beast in the garage overnight, much to my relief. (I don’t have a dog bed, or anything, and each of my cats outweighs this little doggie, one twice and the other about four times. I am sure they would have been delighted if I had brought home a BLIND dog for them to brutalize, but I am not that mean. They really would have massacred him; I mean, one of my cats actually chased deer off my lawn (real, live deer, not the white light bulb covered kind) and the other cat has been known to chase the neighborhood dogs, one of whom is a German Shepard, three are boxers and one is a Shizu-Imu, who only weighs about 25 pounds, but moves like lightning….). My friend was able to get us out of her house by 8:30.

As we drove home, I noticed a family out for a walk, with flashlights and hastily pulled together outfits. Since they were shining their lights into piles of leaves, and since I can add two and two, and come up with a hunch, I pulled over.

Me: Hi! Are you looking for an elderly one eyed Pomeranian with a limp?
Lady wearing slippers and a cardigan: Yes! OMIGOD! Yes!
Me: Haven’t seen him.

KIDDING!!!! I walked the nice lady back to my friend’s house, and DH#1 followed behind in the car. (With two car seats, we generally don’t fit a third party in the vehicle too easily.) On the walk she talked a mile a minute about the dog (Bennie) and how nice he is and how he’s totally blind (good call, Dr. DH#2!) and how he’s 13 years old and so sweet and her name is Mimi (all names have been changed to protect the guilty) and how much she loves Bennie (actually that is the dog’s real name, but since he’s a Pomeranian I don’t think he’ll get pissed off at reading his name in my blog...wait a minute, he can’t read anyway! He’s blind!)

So, we get back to my friend’s house, and she opens the door, obviously puzzled as to why I might be darkening her doorstep twice in one night.

Me: Hi again! This is Mimi! Bennie’s mother! You know, the dog?
Friend: Wow! Honey, go get the dog, wow!

I stayed to witness the handover, Bennie seemed quite relieved to be in his mother’s arms again, and we all chatted pleasantly on the door step for a few. Then I had to say good night. By 9:45 my little family and I were on our way home from an unexpected adventure and totally overdue for baths, supper and bed.

As we pulled into our driveway, my DH looks at me and says, “That was kind of fun. Your friends are very nice.” All I could think was, “Where the hell is that tick?”