Word of the Day: ramshackle It feels like I've slept through these past two weeks. I am so ridiculously tired all the time, most of what I do during the day is lay on the couch trying to avoid Patrick jumping on me. I had a prenatal appointment last week. Patrick and I waited around fourty-five minutes in the waiting room before I was called. There were all sorts of people and kids there, so he was sufficiently entertained. We were called, I was weighed peed in the cup, the nurse practitioner took my blood pressure, and a few minutes later I met the overseeing obstitrician, Dr. Suarez. I was very surprised because the whole time with Patrick, I didn't see an actual doctor until a couple of weeks before he was born. He introduced himself, checked my chart, asked if I had any questions, and informed me that it was still a bit too early to hear the heartbeat, and said goodbye. Instantly when he walked through the door, I liked him much better than I liked Dr. San Miguel, the obstitrician I saw for Patrick. She was really cold and non-interested, just unenthusiastic. And for someone like me, a first-time pregnancy that didn't know what on earth to expect, that was just disheartening. I was scared and she didn't really make me feel better. But Dr. Suarez, who had just come from delivering a baby [which is why we had to wait so long in the first place], was warm and sort of bubbly, even. I liked him. I know this isn't all that much of an entry, but I feel extremely distracted. I'm going to go read Mansfield Park.