I actually got an email from a cousin to whom I hadn't spoken in quite some time, and one of the first things he asked was "Are you guys pregnant yet?" He can't know that we're trying, so it was probably just an assumption on his part: they've been married for almost three years, so a baby should be on the way soon, right? I'm almost insulted by the insinuation that a pregnancy is such a given in our situation, but I let it pass. I simply said, "No babies on our end." But don't I wish!

I met a really awesome mother today. She came in asking for homeschooling information, and I helped her out, mentioning that I had a friend in a neighboring town who unschools her two boys. She seemed interested, and we began to chat. It was amazing; all the philosophies and ideas that Eric and I have about birth and parenting were being practiced right before my eyes! We talked for a long time about various things; she would like to have a homebirth, was interested in becoming a midwife, and shared my enthusiasm for the idea of waterbirth. Her kids were adorable, through the older child was a bit shy. He has a speech disability, so his social hesitation was understandable; I helped him through a puzzle, and he signed, "Thank you!" to me.

This is the second woman I've met this week who was interested in unschooling. In this area, that's a real rarity. Boss-Lady didn't know what to make of it; she doesn't care for the idea of homeschooling at all. Unschooling...well, that threw her for a real loop. The first mother and I explained the concept to her as best we could, but her eyes just kept getting bigger and bigger. Something tells me that she won't be stocking books on the subject anytime soon.

Protho and the ladyfriend came into the library this morning before skipping town, so I showed them around. He was duly impressed by our collections, and I felt proud showing him the children's room. This is my element, after all.

We were able to clean a bit before they got here last night, so things should be ready for the in-laws tonight. I always get nervous when they come into our apartment; I feel like the clutter is serving as a sign that I'm not "domestic" enough for their baby. When Rita asks to help me do simple chores, it's hard not to perceive it as an offer to do the job better than I am able to do it. It's no wonder I usually end up with stomach cramps for days after they leave.

It's all due to the fact that circumstances had us living with Eric's parents for a few months after we married, I know it. We were getting ready to move to Ohio, and I wanted to move as soon as possible, but Eric decided it would be wisest to stay in West Virginia until everything was pre-settled for us in Ohio. He was right, of course, but it didn't make the summer any more bearable for me. I wanted to be the one washing my husband's clothes; I was supposed to be making his meals, not his mommy! I was the wife! When we finally moved, it was extremely difficult for me to sink into my new role.

Things have much improved over the last few years, thankfully. It took some time to wean Rita away from being "mommy" to both of us; those few months when she was able to care for us really made it hard for her to stop smothering, I believe. Eric wouldn't be happy with me for saying all this; he loved those months in his parents' house. He knows that it wore on me fiercely, and it tore at him to love something that I hated. Bad, bad situation.

Tonight we'll go out to eat, and Eric and his dad will fight over the check. It's an ongoing argument; they refuse to let us buy them dinner, ever. It's funny that they want to pay our ways, especially since Eric got his new position. It's not so amusing, though, that we let them get away with it without a fight!

She's hoping she'll get to some home today. She can't wait to be back on her feet; life without her thyroid medication is apparently quite terrible. Her brain isn't working the way it should, so that she can't even do the crossword puzzles on which she brought to work. She feels tired and run-down constantly. I suggested that she amp herself up on caffeine, but I don't think the doctors will let her.

All this is making me dread middle age, because thyroid disease is very hereditary. I'm pretty much living vicariously through what I'll eventually have to live through in reality. Not a pleasant picture, I'll say that.

Not that I'm fond of beer, anyway. A whiskey sour would be nice, though.