The library's pretty busy today. I don't know why that surprises me; I guess I assumed that, with only four days until Christmas, people would have other things to do than come in here and make my life hell. I assumed incorrectly, obviously.

Okay, perhaps I'm overstating the case. It hasn't been all that bad; if the kids are a tad on the loud side, well, it's only understandable. Sometimes I wonder whether the scent of evergreen acts upon the little ones the way catnip does on those of the feline persuasion. The people in here have been rushed, hyperactive, and impatient, but it's been nothing I can't handle, especially considering that it's my last day before I'm off on vacation.

I suppose that therein lies the rub. It's been two Christmases since Eric announced to his family that we'd be trying to enlarge our own little corner of the clan, and we've nothing to show for it. This Christmas we'll be treated to the sight of his brother and wife with their nearly-one year old daughter, and I'd be lying if I said that didn't chap just a touch.

Don't worry; I won't let it show. I'll be the happy daughter-in-law, chucking her niece under the chin and smiling for the cameras. I won't let on to anybody that I'm not a hundred percent thrilled for everybody involved.

But, but, but! If one person starts in on us about when we're going to have one of our own, it's going to take an act of God to keep me from either falling to pieces or decking them. And I'm not a violent person, so we all know which is more likely to happen.

It would be so much easier if we actually could talk about it, perhaps: "No, we haven't stopped trying. We're just on a break from treatments at the moment. It's not just the money, though that's a part of it; the third failed insemination hit us kind of hard. No, we don't know why they haven't worked. They just haven't." We put a moratorium on discussing the subject with his family, though; it usually ended up with Rita in tears.

We also wanted to avoid the next subject which is sure to arise: in vitro. His family doesn't need to know that Eric and I are still at odds about that. After all, I'm doing my best to let it go without anybody else involved in the debate.

I guess we'll be falling back on the old standby. "Still working at it! We'll let you know!" delivered with a bright smile.

Last night Eric and I went out to dinner. (Big surprise, there.) I haven't yet gotten his Christmas present, and I'm a bit stumped, so I drilled him a bit over our meal.

"Do you need any books?"
"Nope."
"Any affordable tech?"
"Nothing we can afford.
"Clothing?"
"Please..."

We started to get a little goofy. "How about a basset hound? A pair of them, one on which you can rest each of your feet!" We laughed, which I really, really needed. Then I asked him, "If you could have anything in the world for Christmas, assuming it could fit on Santa's sleigh, what would it be?"

I really shouldn't have asked. It was a huge "PMS question," right up there with "Does the dress make me look fat?" or "Do you think our waitress is pretty?" I asked it, knowing fully well that I wanted him to say that he wanted a baby. It was a stupid test, and I knew it.

"A tricked out Apple G4, with a huge monitor."

I didn't let him know or tell him that I was upset. The evening had been a nice one, missing the usual overtone of stress and worrying that's filled our days so frequently as of late. Eric had managed, for a moment, to take his mind off our troubles; who was I to drag him back?

Hey, Santa? I don't know if you read online journals, but if you happen to glance over this one, I could use one of two things this year. If you've got a little one in your sack for me, I'd sure appreciate that the most. Otherwise, I could use some courage. It's going to be a long holiday this year.

December's WordGoddess collaboration, based on Sliding Doors, inspired by Terri