Loves First Touch

I'm not much of a planner.  I'm getting a little better now that I'm going to be partially responsible for setting the moral and physical framework for another human life, but still...baby steps.  So to really dive into this planning business, a couple months ago I booked a getaway for last weekend to scenic Galena, Illinois for me and my baby daddy. 

For most women, I don't think this is a big job.  Small town tucked away in a snowy-hilled part of Illinois she didn't know existed?  Check.  Intimate room with fireplace and whirlpool tub?  Check.  Friendly inn keeper?  Check.  I was looking for all those things, plus a couple more.  For example, staying in a room called "Loves First Touch" was a no no.  Number 1, I was booking the room at work so I refused to say "yes, we'd like Loves First Touch please" and number 2, I have a pineapple sized bump in my belly and loves first touch just seemed like a lie.  I compromised and put us in the Grand Romance Room which I tried to discreetly book in my office as "Sure, we'll take the GraRomsRoom please."

Before you judge me, please note this was my first time staying in a B&B and I've seen a lot of movies that end with divorce and severed heads at B&Bs. I needed to get it right.

At first I was set on finding an inn sans wall-to-wall dead people portraits but as it turns out they don't make B&Bs like that anywhere in the United States, so we settled on a night of peaceful slumber with Ulysses S. Grant and Abe Lincoln look-alikes watching from above.


It was also really difficult tracking down a room that wasn't plastered with an s-load of giant floral print wallpaper and matching comforters.  One of my old babysitters had a room she'd make us take naps in that had all of these features plus a bunch of creepy porcelain dolls and smelled like oatmeal.  My sister and I not ONCE shut our eyes in that room.


http://uglyhousephotos.com/wordpress/?cat=85&paged=2

 I ended up finding a place that mostly fit within these strict guidelines and it was an awesome, relaxing weekend.  Truth be told, I could be hanging out anywhere with my main squeeze and we'll have fun. Probably because we both get creeped out by signs that say "Welcome to the Inn!  Where you come as strangers and leave as great friends!"  And we both appreciate eating breakfast with random strangers who describe themselves as aspiring actors who currently choose to be liquor salesmen (a/k/a cashiers at a liquor store).  Always an adventure!

Moosh

Pregnancy is turning me into a big pile of moosh and I like it. I cry watching Dick's Sporting Goods commercials, I get giddy seeing miniature shoes and people, I create schedules, I plan meals in advance that don't include peanut butter or kraft cheese, and sometimes I make the bed.  It's remarkable.

Apparently my newly visible baby bump is turning everyone else into a big pile of moosh too.  Five months ago, I never would have imagined myself snuggling up in the warm embrace of a female Fed Security Guard on my way into work but that happened and guess what?  I lingered.    Fed Security generally makes you feel like a member of Al Qaeda for bringing a metal travel mug through the metal detectors.  That said, I didn't see it coming.  First she called me "honey girl," then she asked to put her hand on my belly and the next thing I know she's arms-out going in for the kill.  It felt like the time I hugged my 3rd grade teacher...I didn't want anyone thinking I was a kiss-ass, but it just felt so damn comfy.   I think I need to be cautious with this new familiarity that being pregnant seems to bring with strangers.  This is one of those situations where I will probably try to go in for the hug again tomorrow and find myself at gun point restrained by a pile of Fed Security guards.