Word of the Day: despot I could say that Patrick is a despot. At least, he was last night. He might/must/hope to God be going through some sort of growth spurt. He cried [and by crying I mean he kind of wimpered most of the night and cried occasionally] and cried and cried. I don't remember how many times I got up or how many times JD got up, but it was a lot a lot. I got to the point where I just sat up in bed and started to tear up, helpless and hopeless. That kind of scared JD--he thought there was something really wrong with Patrick. I just didn't know what else to do. He's doing a little better today, I've only fed him twice and it's a little after half past three in the afternoon. We'll see how he does tonight. Little despot. I talked to my mother on the phone yesterday morning, and she said I sounded rested. I didn't think I was, but I try to make the best out of the situation, so I suppose I made myself sound peppy. I was quite grouchy yesterday--we had to take Patrick to the hospital for his second PKU, so we went to Hobby Lobby, the hotel, and the dealership to show him off, as well as the mall and Wal-Mart to walk around. I was tired. I was tired, sleepy, worn out, and my feet hurt. Note--new shoes are on the agenda. Even when Patrick's good at night, when he only wakes up twice to be fed and goes right back to sleep, I'm still tired because I'm the one who has to get up. It's relatively easy to take care of a newborn, but it's nerve-wracking. I don't know what he wants when he cries, I don't know if he's hungry or needs to be changed or is cold or hot or just wants some love. 'What do you want, little boy? See, this is why I don't like kids who can't talk!' I talk to Patrick a lot. You're supposed to interact with newborns through the voice since they can't really see too much and they already know and find comfort in their parents' voices. I think JD thinks I'm weird. I ususally just tell him that I love him, that he's a good boy, that he's beautiful, adorable, wonderful, etc. But sometimes I talk to him about other things, what's going on, how tired I am, stuff like that. He just looks at me. It's kind of creepy--he doesn't blink. So, like I said, yesterday we went to show off Patrick at the hotel. They miss me a lot [as they should] and all want me to come back [as they should]. I was told that I won Employee of the Month for January, my name on a plaque, and fifty dollars to boot. As I should. I knew I was going to win. I can only imagine how self-important that sounds, but I really do think I deserved it. I worked my ass off in January to get our scores up, to help out Jeff, to train, to be the best front desk clerk we've had in a while. Of course, it sort of bothers me that all I got was fifty dollars and my name on a plaque that I can't keep. A raise would be much much nicer. But, at least I got some small acknowledgment of my hard work and dedication. It sort of made me not want to look for another job.