“Can you call me every night and let me know how she is?” my wife said as I packed four tents, a portable crib, and our daughter into the car.
“I don’t know if we’ll have service,” I explained. “It’s a campground.”
“It’s a campground in New Jersey,” she said.
I shrugged and told her that I’d do my best. Read more
I slid my daughter, Harper, into the carrier on my chest. Marissa steadied a hand on her belly; the baby inside her cartwheeled without much consequence. Beneath us lava bubbled. We walked along the rim of the caldera, which, absent its trees, looked as though we were traveling Mars or the moon. In the distance, the active crater of Kilauea glowed unseen, and along the south coast, also unseen, the road was closed as lava poured down the mountain into the sea. Read more
The first time Marissa and I took a babymoon–that trip before the sleepless nights began–we were expecting our first child. This time around, with Marissa six-months pregnant with child number two, our toddler was waking up some time between 1:30 AM and dawn. So while the first babymoon demanded luxury and beaches and long journeys to exotic lands, this time we couldn’t fathom driving farther than Connecticut.
After spending a few weeks on the Hawaiian Islands, jumping from hotel to hotel, only three properties seemed to pay any attention to parents struggling along with kids. While some properties on this list below are family-focused, even one adult getaway employed secret tactics to impress those traveling with kids.
The first time that I had taken my daughter out on the sea, she was four months old. I had set her feet on a stand-up paddleboard floating just off the shore of Eleuthera in the Bahamas. Harper, as a rational person would expect of a baby, had a fit. It took a few more months for her to grow comfortable with the ocean. And while it’s rare that she will crawl straight into every body of water–see Aruba–she does enjoy building and destroying sand castles and watching sand crabs scurry for the depths.