A sad truth

By now most of you know what happened last Friday. On what was supposed to be a cheerful, "TGIF!" morning, I was cleaning up Ashton's room before leaving for work. Jason was still sleeping and the dog and the baby were meandering around like they always do. Before I knew it, I was rushing into the living room - I don't know what happened but Tate had snapped at Ashton and Ashton had several scratches and a really bad cut across his eyebrow. Jason came running out of the bedroom at the commotion and we decided to take our shaking, crying, baby to the emergency room.

I sent an email to Bentley (nothing like announcing you will be four hours late on your FOURTH day of work because you have to take your kid to the ER) and we drove over to Childrens Hospital in Waltham. After being evaluated at urgent care, they referred us over to Newton-Wellesley because they have a pediatric emergency room. So we went over there and after check-in and triage, we were finally put in a room. The doctor came in and said he was going to apply a numbing ointment so he could clean the wound and see what he would have to stitch. And that it was going to take a half hour to take effect. A half hour. That's. thirty. minutes. So in other words, five years. Our toddler, who was past his nap, still in his pajamas and never had breakfast because we threw him in the car to seek medical attention, was going to have to wait thirty minutes five years in a confined hospital room for this ointment to work. I gave Jason a look that said "We might not survive this. And if we don't, it was nice knowing you." We sat in silence pondering our fate and then suddenly, a lifeline. A nurse came out of nowhere and told us they had a play area we were welcome to use while we waited. At these words, a choir of angels began to sing and I knew we had a chance:

(Sidenote: Ashton was smitten with this toy he found there called the Fisher Price Corn Popper. We immediately ordered it on Amazon, it came today, and it saw approximately 1 minute of action before he toddled off in search of something better.)

Long story short (people always say that when they want to continue their already long story), Ashton got two stitches and left the hospital with antibiotics (dog bites frequently become infected), a brand new sippy of milk, and real Cheerios (not Trader Joe's O's or any other pathetic knock-offs mommy buys because they are $3 cheaper per box). We have an appointment to get the stitches out on Wednesday and hopefully there will be no permanent scarring. Here he is later that day like nothing happened:

I think the next most important thing, besides Ashton being fine, is what we are going to do with Tate. And the sad truth is that we are looking for a new home for him. He has always been nervous around Ashton, and now that Ashton walks and chases him around with his little golf clubs and whacks him out of nowhere, it's gotten worse. Ashton is simply too young to understand how to be gentle, not pull ears, tails and fur, etc. and Tate is too aggressive to be around him. I don't trust him at all anymore and watch him like a hawk whenever they are together. They are never out of my sight. I know Tate would respond the same way again if Ashton ever threatened or pissed him off like he did last Friday and it's just not acceptable. On the flip side, Tate deserves a home where he gets more loving attention. I have made several jokes on this blog about Ashton and Tate's friendship (or lack thereof) but it has become a harsh reality that they are not and will not be in the foreseeable future. If Tate had done this to another baby I would be even more devastated than I am now. I can't even bear the idea of it ever happening again and would never forgive myself if it did.

Tate needs a new home without small children. It breaks my heart. We've had him 4.5 years, he was our first born and I can't imagine life without him. I sobbed and sobbed when my dad took him for three weeks last spring when we were trying to figure out Ashton's allergies. And that was my dad! For three weeks! I knew where he was and who he was with and when he was coming home. This time is a lot different. If you're reading this and have room in your home for our dog, please let me know.

I'll tell you what, they never tell you how many tears you shed as a mom. Many, many, many.