Final Destination

There seems to be an unofficial rule among parents-to-be which mandates that couples take a final vacation before the baby arrives.  So in the spirit of solidarity, my husband and I are going to join in the fun and attempt to enjoy the last moments of our lingering ’childhood’ before being thrust, headlong, into a lifetime of caring for something other than ourselves and each other.

We’ve chosen our favorite luxury hotel in wine country, where I will be terrorizing the general public by laying about each day in a bikini.  My husband will sample champagne in the mornings, and I will be found dipping my pregnant little hands into the decadent breakfasts layed out by uniformed staff.  Later each day, my husband will sip fine wine poolside, bedside, curbside, mealside, outside and inside as I slowly devour finger sandwiches at tea-time, and then we will nap all wrapped up in fluffy robes and slippers before dressing for dinner.  My husband will have a designated driver to all his favorite wineries, and I will get a rare opportunity to spit in a bucket without anyone questioning my breeding.  See?  We’ll both get something out of the deal.

I am so going to relish this last experience of civilization before being covered in burp-up, leaky milk and baby poop.  See you when we get back (when you’re in for the ordinary tales of backaches, rib pain and freak outs).