Sam is sick.

And it sucks.

He's getting raging fevers, but isn't pulling on his ears. He had diarrhea last week, but it was finally starting to get better when he started spiking the fevers. He's a complete boobaholic, so I'm thinking his throat hurts - or it could just be that he's miserable. He seems achy and 'tis the season, so I wouldn't take flu out of the differential. His nose is a little runny, but clear and not gross or even copious. He still has tears and saliva and wet diapers and he's certainly drinking tons, so not dehydrated yet.

Those are my Dr. Mommy observations. They don't seem to be doing me much good. Usually I can pinpoint it and fix it, but it's not working and his doctor's office is booked until Monday morning. No urgent care available. It's ER or wait. My intuition still says wait.

I need to go to bed, because I finally got him off the boob - seriously, I missed work tonight because he would fall asleep but I couldn't get him to stay asleep if I removed the boob.

Okay, one slightly humorous story. Somehow boob became Sam's word for nursing. Fortunately, he's usually pretty discreet about it, but last night I was at a presidency meeting at the church with the help of the youngest 3 kids (a whole 'nutha delightful story - if you like stories about 100 thrown crayons and little girls who like to test their reading skills on mommy's notes and are pretty sure that what they have to say must be said RIGHT NOW, especially if someone else is talking). I had nursed Sam earlier in the meeting when it had been just me and the prez because our secretary couldn't find us and we're in the process of getting another counselor, but then our bishopric counselor over Primary had joined the meeting. Sam was tired and was just at the start of getting feverish and he WANTED THE BOOB. So he started asking Boo, Boo, Boo and doing the insistent head fling into position and started lifting my shirt. He wanted boob and he wanted it NOW. Poor Bro. C. was trying to avert his eyes and asked if he should leave. I ended up taking Sam out because they were discussing finding a new counselor and well, it'd be nice to have one of those sooner than later. Oy, oy, oy.

I'm really going to bed now. It really is 1:09 in the morning. Everybody pray that Sammy feels better tomorrow. My house is a disaster, I'm supposed to have a babysitter tomorrow night, and I still haven't finished my lab paper that was due on Tuesday. Craptastic.