Mrs. Chapman goes to Washington

Hear that? That’s the sound of our copy desk chief weeping over that incredibly hackneyed blog post title. And, hear that other noise? That’s me, trying very, very hard to care (sorry Brian). You know why? Because I’m going on vacation tomorrow. Oh yeah, baby.

Do you all have any idea how long it’s been since we went on vacation? I mean, we’ve gone on trips for weddings or to visit family, but the last time we went somewhere purely for its own sake and just to have fun was…um…well, our honeymoon. Seven years ago. It was a year after our wedding, and we drove down to New Orleans for a week of great beer, great food, great music, and great attractions. We love that city so much we very nearly named Baby Girl Nola (well, it would have been a better tribute than naming her Liza Jane, ’cause that girl is kind of sketchy).

So anyway, miracle of miracles, we managed to scrounge up the time and cash for a five-day foray to Washington, D.C. Not that there’s much cash involved: pretty much everything is free in D.C., we’re driving up there in the Prius (one tank of gas up, one tank back, $80. Bonus: no crappy biscotti and layover in Denver), and we’re staying with my brother’s mother-in-law. We’re hoping to do the whole trip for less than $300. Maybe $350 if you count all the guilt-ridden souvenirs I’ll probably buy for the Sprog.

He was morose about the vacation last night and clung to me at bedtime. “I don’t want you to go leave when it’s Wednesday, Mama,” he whispered into my shoulder. “Don’t go on vacation.” GUILT BOMB: TARGET ACQUIRED. So of course I promised to bring him back a bunch of loot if he kept a stiff upper lip. He brightened up instantly, and started begging for Speed Racer paraphernalia. I counter-offered with dinosaur stuff from the Natural History museum. He accepted, and has been excited about the trip ever since. I’m so glad we could come to detente on this.

So yes, the kids are staying at my parents’ house for the week (and let’s pour out a forty for them, bless their souls), so it’s just me and the hubby. Romantic? Oh yes. A week of free museum-hopping is hot, sweaty nerd fantasy right there. There’s so much to do in DC, I can’t imagine we’ll even get in half of the cool stuff on our itinerary. But we will go for the gold, and if they find us dead of exhaustion on a Red Line train after a marathon Smithsonian junket, well, just know we went out on a high note.