Have you heard? Rumor has it I need a goat. Two days ago, Jane came down with a 103.6 fever and was doing a great impersonation of a head-banger. The family consensus was that baby was coming down with her 6th ear-infection since January 1st. I cannot believe it! Afterall, I breastfed this child for 14 months. Isn't that supposed to give her some sort of"super-baby-immunity?" Guess not. So, last Friday I made ANOTHER appointment at the pediatrician's office and started the hour-long drive to obtain antibiotics before the (Easter!) weekend got underway. The only problem with this little plan was that Spencer had already made an appointment to have a belt replaced on our "good" van before we headed down to Arkansas. That meant only one thing for me: "Old Yeller." For those of you who don't know, Old Yeller is our term of endearment for Spencer's '87 yellow Dodge caravan. The ceiling is held up by straight pins and the side door can't be opened from the inside, but it runs like a top. Except when it doesn't. Thirty minutes into my trip, Old Yeller went down. I mean DOWN. In the middle of a median connecting two major highways, the van went completely dead. After rolling to a stop (and thanking God that I wasn't smashed to smithereens by an oncoming semi) I immediatly called 911. A very nice police officer arrived and told me that since I was safe (???), he would just call a tow truck. It was true, I was in a (relatively) safe place, but I was causing a LOT of inconvenience for the drivers trying to get on the I-35 entrance ramp. People were getting angry with me. People were swearing at me. Oh, and did I mention that in my rush to get to the doctor's office on time, that I forgot to wear any deoderant and it was 91 degrees that day. Lovely. Mr. Tow Truck came and hooked our van up to his truck. And since we had a baby in a carseat, he just let us stay in our van instead of moving the carseat to his truck. Truett said it was better than a roller coaster ride and kept asking me why I was gripping the armrest. "Mom, are your knuckles turning WHITE?" (Yes, as a matter of fact they were-- something to do with being connected to a tow truck which was barrelling down the road at 60 mph.) Once we arrived at the mechanic's shop, I called my friend Lana to come and rescue us. She was sooo sweet and even took us to the clinic and we were able to make our doctor's appointment. (I'm just sure I saw a halo hovering over head!!) Our regular pediatrician was out of pocket that day so we had a sub. He couldn't order another round of shots because it was the weekend and we were headed out of town--so he put us on a lower-rung antibiotic. Four days later, Jane is still pulling at her ears and her temp is still spiking near 103 degrees. When I take her back to the clinic tomorrow I hope SOMEONE suggests tubes for this poor child. Through this whole ordeal with Jane, I've been desperately trying to pinpoint the source of her problem. The constant drip of snot from her nose and the matted eyes which appear to be glued shut each morning have made me deduce that she has some sort of allergy. (Genius, I am...) In addition to checking the pollen count each day (pollen.com is my friend), we've also been trying to rule out a dairy allergy. My doctor requested that we go off of cow's milk and switch to soy. When that didn't seem to make much of a difference, he suggested goat's milk. Of course I am willing to do this but the problem is...DOES ANYBODY KNOW HOW MUCH A CAN OF GOAT'S MILK COST THESE DAYS? I'll tell you what it costs--$2.15 for a 12 oz can. That's enough to make this city girl seriously consider opening a little goat dairy out in the backyard. Think I'm up for it?? STOP. LAUGHING. I'm sure my neighbors won't mind. Oh, and after you've stopped laughing at the thought of me milking my goat every morning, please pray for baby Jane. She really needs relief. And so do I. Thanks y'all. Good night.