Last Thursday, I took the day off. Alastair was scheduled for his 4-month checkup, and I wanted to be there for him since he was getting a big cocktail of shots. Amanda was concerned that he would be ill and lethargic in the afternoon, so I wanted to support her.
We got him to the doctor, stripped him, weighed him (exactly 18 lbs, 25.75" long, 16.75" cranium), and proceeded to impale his perfect little legs with no fewer than 4 icky needles. The poor little guy let us know how much he appreciated it for about 30 seconds, then evidently forgot that something horrifying had just happened to him. We took him home, and that was our day. He was fine, and we just got to spend a nice day together.
Then, on Friday, I got a call from the day-care asking me to take him home: he'd had 3 "diarrheas" (come on people, he's a breast-fed baby) and was no longer welcome there that day. They'd apparently had a bit of a stomach bug going around, the symptoms of which were diarrhea and/or vomiting, and fever. He was burning up.
I took him home, turned up the AC, and tried to keep him happy. It took no work at all: the kid was in a great mood. With a fever over 101. Being the adventurous types, we even took him out for dinner with the Kimmelshues. By the time we got home with our little man, he was reading 102.4.
Again, being super adventurous, we decided that a swaddled, feverish baby on a warm night was just begging for SIDS, we forewent the swaddling for the first time. He came through like a champ, as did a whole bunch of poop. No swaddle = poop-mania!
During the day, his fever broke, and all was well with the world.
On Sunday, I got up bright and early and headed over to the Richmond Raceway Complex for my first autocross in the Miata. It was hot, it got hotter, and ended up brutally hot. I did ok, it being my first time in the Miata. I put down my fastest time on a fun-run after the competition, after being advised that the best tire-pressure for the Kumhos was 25-rear, 27-front (!).
Then Monday I went and helped Mr. Kimmelshue replace suspension parts on his M3. I was outside for close to 7 hours both days, and it took it's toll on me: Tuesday I was feverish.
I spent the day with Beeboo, trying desperately to tend to him while feeling like crap, and also dealing with.................the bat in the house!
That's right, folks: there was a real, live, flying rodent in the house! Amanda woke up several times during the night, telling me that she was hearing a chirping sound. We went searching through the house, couldn't find anything, and went back to bed. Twice. Then, at 5:30, as Amanda was taking her shower, I saw it from the light-spill. It was flying in circles around the computer room, and Lucy was leaping at it on every pass.
Then it flew at me. I didn't hop up on a chair and scream, but I came close. After a few dazed moments of staring at it, we closed Alastair's door and got the cats out of harm. Then we trapped it in the computer room and went on with our morning.
Obviously, with a fever and a bat, I wasn't going to work. I called the bat people, and they suggested we call Animal Control. Animal Control showed up almost 3 hours later, and the fellow was unable to find the bat. He suggested that I should tear the room apart and kill it myself. Yeah, right.
So we opened the window to that room and waited until dark, when we assumed it would go looking for food. No such luck: it wasn't moving for anybody.
At 8:45, right after getting Boy to bed, I went in. I searched high and low, but I kept coming back to the closet, where I eventually picked up the smell. The disgusting, horrifying smell of death. I noticed that an enormous object in the closet had been pushed flat against the wall, so I figured the poor little bat had been crushed. Nope. Then, randomly, I decided to see if it was somehow stuck in the metal bifold closet-door. It was right behind me, and I couldn't tell, but it didn't look dead.
We called Animal Control again, and they were there almost immediately. The very nice officer reached in, got the bat, pulled it out (very much alive), and showed us the little fellow. It was very angry.
So that was our weekend. Never a dull moment.