You know, sometimes life will put you in your place. It will tell you where you REALLY sit on the 'totem pole' of life. That has happened to me.
It starts out 2 Sunday afternoons ago, I was on the golf course with some of my extended family when I got a call. It was the wife. She said that lil bit was running a fever and was just wondering when I was going to be done golfing. Well, I was finishing up the first 9 holes, and decided to leave halfway through the game. I went home to a sick child. Now, if you knew me 5 years ago, you would know that my #1 fear in life is sick children. I have accepted now that this fear must be put away. So lil bit is running a fever----ALL WEEK. The Doctor said she was probably getting over something and would be fine. OK. That is fine. The fever went on for 8 DAYS!
So the next weekend has come upon me and I feel that weekends have changed their meaning for me since I became a father. Before, there was no such things as weekends for me. I don't like Mondays so I figured a long time ago that if you work 7 days a week there is no such thing as Monday. It was great, it work out for me just fine, and it got me out of the house so that my better half could go and shop or do whatever she did. Now, weekends are like the 'healing time' or the time to just catch up on things in the house.
This weekend brought a break in the fever of lil bit just to usher in the fever of my wife. Yep, she feels bad. So Monday comes around again and the Doc says she has Strep. That means that not only am I going to get it, but she is not the wonderful woman I married when she is sick. That is OK. Monday evening rolls around and I think I am going to lick my wounds. The wife is on antibiotics, lil bit's fever broke, and things just might turn around. Then our dog, Rudy, decides to get in a fight with a frog out in the backyard.
Not a big deal, right? Well, I found out (IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH, BE WARNED) that frogs, when threatened, tend to excrete a toxin that makes the attacker (Rudy) back off. So Rudy comes back into the house shaking his head. I think it is nothing, until I hear the word that I hate to hear the most in my household, "ALAN!" Rudy just vomited on the bed. I thought, 'OK, he was just upset and this will pass.' Nope, it happened again on the bed, the couch, the living room floor, the kitchen floor, and a place that I had not known until I stepped without looking.
I called the after hours vet. The lady on the other end of the phone said to just wash out his mouth and he will just pass the toxins eventually. That was fun, wrestling a sick dog to get his mouth open so I can clean it out. So I am sitting on the couch right now, with the girls finally in bed, with Rudy just laying beside me. He hasn't, you know what, for awhile now, but I am still scared that the fact he sleeps in the bed with me and I wake up in the middle of the night just to get a face full of, well you know.
The moral of this story, 'What ever doesn't kill you, sure can make you tired.'
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