I made Marc take Jess into the pediatrician's yesterday, and it turns out that she's got strep throat. On the upside, she LOVES amoxicillin, so is great about taking her meds and the fever has gone way down. I'm optimistic that she might be able to go back to school by Wednesday. When she was tiny, Jess had a zillion ear infections - and it seemed as though she was always on amoxicillin. We called it her "bubble gum syrup" and she was so happy to get another rx for it. For the most part, my kids are super healthy, so she hasn't had it in a long time (once her ears got bigger, the infections stopped), but I'm amused at how happy she was to start taking it again.
Still no baby... but I'm learning how hope really does spring eternal. Even though there's a part of me that's starting to doubt that I'll ever go into labor on my own (if it hasn't happened yet, I'm thinking that maybe they'll just need to break my water to get this party started), I still get all excited when the contractions pick up. Last night, I was getting them every couple of minutes, they weren't painful exactly, but they were definitely uncomfortable and I got a little excited, planned out the night, took a nice shower so I'd be all clean, figured I'd put Sam to bed first, try and get Jess settled, and they still were constant - not getting any worse, but not going away either. So then I decided that I'd try and rest a little, get a little sleep in because I'd be up all night having my baby... lo and behold, nothing. I just slept. Woke up to go to the bathroom, drugged Jess in the middle of the night when she was burning up with fever. I'm still contracting this morning, and I swear to God, I still think it could happen. Like at any minute, I could stand up and my water could break. You'd think I'd learn, you'd think I'd resign myself to nothing ever happening - but nope - I remain constantly ready, constantly at alert. It's wearing me out - just the emotional toll of being ever ready to launch into hard labor. She'll come eventually, right?