This Weekend We / 24 Hours in Baltimore

Quite frankly, my decision to spend the Christmas money my granddad gave me on an extended  double date in Baltimore two weeks before the baby's due date was genius.  The weeks leading up to a baby's undisclosed arrival are long, very long. I start imagining that every cramp is "the beginning." I desperately try to will myself into labor, to will a baby into my arms.

However, because I was so excited about this past weekend's plans, I have mostly avoided this trap. I wanted last night to happen more than I wanted an early labor and delivery.  Now that last night is in the past, nothing will stop me from trying to wish myself unpregnant.

Joanna and Geoffery took the bus from Brooklyn to Baltimore to spend 24 hours with us, a last hurrah of sorts. After baby number four comes, there will be a whole lot less expendable income for fancy dinners and not so fancy hotels.

We stayed at the Biltmore Suites, which are run down, kind of dirty, but a little bit wonderful. Patterns on patterns, nothing really as clean as it should be, most things in need of repair. The three flights of stairs (no elevator) to the room slant enough to make you feel like you drank too much. Some people claim the place is haunted. We've stayed there before, and I would stay there again. It's got personality in spades, and it's super cheap. When traveling, I have a hard time spending money on hotels and flights (I once booked Tom and my tickets from DC to New Orleans that had two layovers just to save 40 bucks). I would much rather have the extra money to spend on extravagant meals and junk store shopping. We spent nearly four times more on dinner at Woodberry Kitchen than we did on the room, and I think we did the right thing on both accounts. After thirteen years of traveling together, Joanna and I have developed pretty similar ideas on how it's done, a fact that I think we both take almost completely for granted.

We drank beers at Brewer's Art, brunched at Paper Moon, and shopped the Avenue in Hampden. Despite the terrible, terrible cold, every single bit was great. Four grown adults crowded into one room, whispering like kids as one by one people nodded off.

And now I'm back at home with three rowdy kids and snow storm finally on the horizon. We'll pop some popcorn, watch The Book of Life, and I'll go back to imagining that every ache, every pang of pressure is a sure sign that she's on her way. In reality, she will most likely go 13 days past her due date, just like her big brothers, only finally coming to the world when she senses that an epidural will be forced on us if she doesn't finally make her move. If only Joanna was coming back next weekend, the wait would maybe be bearable.

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