So how did you spend your Friday night?

I know, some of you put the kids to bed early and snuggled on the sofa (just the two of you!) watching the latest DVD from Netflix while sipping a nice glass of wine.

Others of you actually sprung for a baby-sitter and went out. To a restaurant. With menus. And waiters. Linen tablecloths. You shared an appetizer, she ordered the fresh Chilean Sea Bass, you ordered the Beef Tenderloin. You even lingered over coffee and dessert before heading home to your home (spotless) and children (clean and sleeping snugly in their beds). Your babysitter raved about how polite your children are and how nicely they play together. She (or he) begged you to call again. Their youth group is going on a Spring Beach Trip and they really need to make some extra money.

Let's just pause there for a moment and enjoy that mental image for a while.

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Now, let me tell you what we did instead of either of those tempting scenarios.

OK, there was one part of Scenario Two that actually happened. There was a baby-sitter involved. However, she (my MIL) was only there to take care of Belle and The Boy. Tink was with me and my wife.

In the Emergency Room.
At Children's Hospital.
In Atlanta.
For EIGHT hours.

In case you were wondering, they don't have linen tablecloths, dessert, wine, or Chilean Sea Bass at Childrens Hospital. However, they do have wonderful nurses and doctors who, once you actually get to a room and can see them, take great care of a very sad, very sick Tink.

Background: almost 3 years ago, Belle (then age 5 1/2) complained of a really bad stomach-ache. I was traveling (surprise!). A late-night trip to the Emergency Room (this time in Birmingham, where we then lived) revealed no major illnesses. Two days later, a trip to our Pediatrician led to an immediate trip to a pediatric surgeon who quickly determined that Belle had had a severe case of appendicitis and that the appendix in question had already ruptured. After one week in the hospital on a very powerful antibiotic cocktail, followed by 6 weeks of continued antibiotics administered at home via a "pic-line", Belle finally had surgury to remove the ruptured appendix. Eight weeks and I can't remember how many thousands of dollars later, Belle was back to normal.

Needless to say, we are now a little sensitive to stomach-aches at our house.

My wife took Tink and The Boy to our pediatrician here in GA on Friday morning. Both had been coughing pretty badly for a week and, with a weekend trip back to Birmingham to visit friends planned, we needed to make sure they weren't contagious with anything. Oh, and that morning, just before the trip, Tink complained of a severe stomach-ache. It hurt to walk, hurt to move. Tears were plentiful. Turns out Tink had bronchitis and an ear infection. The Boy is showing signs of pretty severe athsma and also had an ear infection. Tinks tummy-ache had slightly abated by then, but the Doctor said to watch it and head to the ER if it got worse.

Fast forward to 5:00 pm. I'm waiting for Belle and The Boy (who is feeling fine by now) to finish their first tennis clinic of the season. My cell rings; it's my wife. "Take Belle and TB to my moms and come home. We're taking Tink to Children's." Consider it done. After 15 years of marriage and 8 years of parenthood, I don't question my wife's intuition. It's accuracy is scary.

By 7:00, we're sitting in the waiting room and, well, waiting. Tink is feeling much better now, but we're not sure if that's just the Motrin talking or what. By 8:30 or 9, she's really much better. Should we just bail and go home? Are we just being hyper-cautious because of Belle?

I can't remember what time we got back to an actual examination room. We told the whole story again (are they checking to see if we remember why we're here?) to the nurse. At this point, we're convinced that we were being absurdly cautious and are wasting time and money. After another hour or so, we saw a doctor. He felt otherwise. Option 1: the bronchitis could have turned into pneumonia, which can cause severe abdominal pain (particularly in children). Option 2: she really could have appendicitis. Worse yet, her sudden "recovery" from the pain could have been caused by the appendix rupturing. Apparently, the pain is worst before it ruptures and, once it does, you feel much better. (until, of course, all of the poison starts to make you feel REALLY bad). Let's do some blood work to make sure.

Nurse Wendy comes back (and boy, was she fabulous to us all night). She takes blood for tests and puts Tink on some fluids (she had barely eaten anything all day and hadn't drunk very much either). It should take 45 minutes or an hour to get the results back.

15 minutes later, the doctor returns. Tinks white blood cell count is through the roof. (for you novices out there, that means "Oh crap!") Time for chest x-rays and a CAT scan.

By now it's after midnight. We're watching "Brother Bear 2" for the second time in the room. Tink is behaving like the trooper that she is. No complaints. She just lies there, watching and listening.

We finally get to the X-Ray room and move next door to the CAT Scan machine. Tink thought it was like a ride at Disney (thanks mostly to the brilliance of my wife, who suggested exactly that). She didn't even want to hold hands with anyone while they were sliding her in and out (and in and out).

After all of this, we find out that it is Option 1 (pneumonia), not Option 2 (ruptured appendix). I never thought I would be so excited to learn that my child had pneumonia.

We were finally discharged around 3:00 am and got home a little after 4:00. None of us left the house today. We're exhausted, but so grateful that our little one is OK.

God's blessings come in very strange packages sometimes. Maybe next Friday we'll just snuggle on the sofa and watch a DVD.