The Homesteady

Salem season

Another fall weekend, another trip out of town. This time, to Salem, the day before my birthday! My sister Phoebe came all the way from NYC to celebrate with us for the weekend. We were all excited to spend so much time with her, and Miles especially adores his aunt. 

Phoebe arrived to Northampton Friday night, and we all piled into the car Saturday morning to drive to Salem during the baby's first nap. I'm glad we went the day we did (Sept. 29) because come October, parking is closed to all except Salem residents, and visitors must park out of town and take a shuttle in. 

A (grownups-only!) visit to the Big E

In the very last week of September, my wife Kristie and I both took Wednesday off from work. I dropped the baby off at daycare in the morning, ran a few errands, and then Kristie and I drove to the Big E in West Springfield, where we met our friends Brittney and Shana for a day of grown-ups-only fun. (Our sons go to the same daycare!) 

Do you go to the Big E? It's a crazy huge annual fair and expo. Kristie loves it and I like it, and so we try to go each year. Last year we skipped it because I was so pregnant, and the year before I didn't write a blog post, so I'll send you to 2015 if you want to see a visit from years past.

These vibrating chairs are so bizarre. They shake your feet sososo fast, which feels very weird and kind of good after a day spent walking around the fair. 

A day trip to the New England Aquarium

The first of a few recent Saturdays spent away from home involved a last-minute wedding videography cancellation, unexpectedly freeing my wife Kristie for the day. I knew exactly where the three of us had to go with our stolen time together: the New England Aquarium in Boston. 

Kristie and I lived in the city for a little while, almost a decade ago now, before returning to our beloved valley. I worked at a newspaper then, and loved living in Boston. It seems...cleaner, maybe? than NYC. Friendlier in its own unfriendly way. Maybe it's just the familiarity of having lived there that makes me feel comfortable. It's a 1.5-hour drive from Northampton that I got used to making every Wednesday once I started working remotely for the newspaper, and I was happy to sail us eastward on the Mass Pike again, to bring my son to an aquarium for the first time. 

Little Heaven, Rhode Island

We actually spent a weekend in Little Compton, Rhode Island. But you coulda fooled me. 

My cousin married his sweetheart on her family's farm and every inch of the weekend was saturated with love and levity. It was a truly fabulous event (the bride's dress alone!), and the second wedding Miles has attended. The baby, my wife Kristie, and I stayed in a modern rental home with my parents, brother, sister, and sister's boyfriend. The house overlooked the water – we absentmindedly argued over whether it was the ocean, or a river flowing from the ocean. (I know it could be solved with a quick Google search, but I think I'd rather not know for sure. And it doesn't matter. It was beautiful either way.)

This little town...it felt like driving through the wilds of Block Island. Some island, at least. I loved the crumbling geometry of stone walls that framed yards ands fields. Neighbors rode their horses single-file along the side of the street. Kristie and my sister bought iced coffee from a roadside farmstand. During a foggy four-a.m. drive (thanks teething!!) I spotted a fox slinking across the road, and an antlered deer standing unbothered in someone's front yard. 

When it came to the weekend's events, Kristie and I took shifts – she went to the rehearsal dinner on Friday evening and I stayed late at the reception on Saturday (each taking turns celebrating while the other mother stayed home making sure Miles was in bed on time). 

Teething aside, Miles championed falling asleep on his own in the pack-and-play – even for naps. Did you hear me? Even for naps. Oh, my child. How proud I felt – and a little sad that you didn't need me to nurse you and lay in bed beside you to help you tumble carelessly into sleep. (You better believe I jumped at the chance to do so the second day when you were just a little extra fussy.)

How lucky we were to see so many relatives! Twice this year, a wedding brought far-flung aunts, uncles, and cousins (and their dogs) together. It's a treat spending time with them, it really is. I want Miles to grow up knowing them all well. 

I ordered Miles's loafers from Amazon [affiliate link], and bemoaned how big they were when they arrived the day before we left. How would they ever stay on? Just my luck (and a little bit of heartache), they fit perfectly! He's 10 months old, and growing so fast. We all are, I guess, and I'm feeling more appreciative than ever for weekends like these that help slow time down just enough for us to all catch our breath.

A mother-daughter-sister-son weekend trip to NYC

Every summer my mom and I visit New York City to spend time with my sister Phoebe, plus half a dozen cousins who live there too, for a weekend. This year, someone new came along too. 

After vacationing on Martha's Vineyard last month, I was feeling a bit more confident about traveling with the baby – even though this time, my wife Kristie would be staying at home. Of course I was with my mother and Phoebe the whole time, but I was feeling the pressure of being the baby's sole primary caregiver for three days.

I needn't have worried that much, though. Thanks in large part to the women we wandered alongside, and my son's unflagging chillness, it was a great trip. He liked his first train ride (which in turn makes me less wary of that someday first-flight), was largely unimpressed by the tall buildings, and from the stroller waved with both hands at people, dogs, fountains, garbage cans, pigeons. Some even waved back!

Just like in Martha's Vineyard, I thoroughly enjoyed the suspension of our sleep rules and nursed him to sleep for a few naps. He slept sweatily in the crook of my arm whilst we laid on my sister's bed and I read on my Kindle (I just finished The Alienist [affiliate link] for the second time). 

Despite the change in nap scenario, my child blew all of us away when it came to bedtime. The ease with which Miles took to the pack-and-play, whether posted up in my childhood room at my parents' house (we stayed overnight in CT the night before riding into the city, and then somewhat unexpectedly for one night after) or wedged next to my sister's bed in her peaceful bedroom, he slept. He negotiated with himself a little bit – 20 minutes the first night, 10 the next, none at all the final – before falling asleep on his own and letting me spend even more time with family members I love so dearly. I had prepared myself to hold him all night, steeling myself for joining him in a 6:30 p.m. bedtime – and the cosleeper [affiliate link] I'd ordered the week before did itself come in handy in the early morning hours – but by and large we were all swelling with pride at his healthy sleep habits. 

Miles is always happy in the stroller, and we spent time wandering Phoebe's neighborhood of Gramercy. We walked to breakfast, lunch, dinner, around the block. The roasted asparagus and fingerling potatoes at Maman (pictured above) were so delicious. Miles loved the whipped ricotta, and even (surprisingly!) the caper-olive gremolata. Orange juice, however? Hard pass.

I also got to complete the one thing I want to do before I turn 31 in September: get my aura photographed. At Magic Jewelry in Chinatown, I sat for two pictures: one with Miles sitting on my lap (above, left), and one without (above, right). I thought it was interesting that the colors are so different. The aura reader explained that in the left photograph, pink represents love for the baby, and that orange-ish glow at my chest represents the worry I have for him. And in my solo picture, green is creativity and perfectionist tendencies (who, me?). As for blue? Well, blue means tired of course! 

My mom and I ended up leaving the city about 3 hours late, ha! Pretty typical if you know us. Miles napped against my chest in the carrier while we made our way back to Grand Central. A traffic jam on 91 meant that once we arrived back in New Haven, we had another hour to wait until my dad arrived to drive us back to their house. Carrying on the weekend's theme (flexibility and taking cues from Miles), I opted to stay one more night in CT rather than drive all the way back to western Massachusetts. Exhausted (happy), baby and I both slept soundly, and were gleefully reunited with Kristie the next day. 


See past trips to NYC: 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013.

Hello Martha's Vineyard!

Like all beautiful plans, this one started with a spreadsheet. 

My sister and I populated the cells of a Google Sheet back and forth, adding links, amenities, checkboxes. And soon our parents had booked a last-minute deal for an Airbnb on Martha's Vineyard – in Tisbury, to be exact.

The trip was so last-minute, in fact, that all of us couldn't be there the entire time. My siblings' stays overlapped with the beginning and end of ours, our parents and their dog Chance being the common denominators. (Plans are already in the works for next summer with the goal of having all of us together for the vacation's entirety.) 

Kristie, Miles, and I arrived two days into their stay. Miles's mother and I were feeling...let's say, apprehensive, about our first longer trip with the baby – primarily because we three had worked so hard on the baby's sleep. But from our favorite sleep-training book [affiliate link], Facebook group, and everything we'd read on the internet, we were planning to stick to the prevailing advice for traveling families: throw all sleep rules out the window. Get sleep for your baby and yourselves however that makes sense. 

THAT beautiful rule (or lack thereof, really) was a big part of what made this vacation so lovely and perfect for our little family. Miles slept in bed between Kristie and me, and I nursed him to sleep at night and for naps. It was dreamy. I felt tipsy on the closeness and freedom and sweetness of those moments. We all relaxed. Child wanted to be held while drifting off, though, so it meant Kristie and I didn't eat dinner together at all, but rather took shifts around the table with the rest of my family eating and playing Bananagrams [affiliate link] – I don't want to brag (or maybe I do?) but I won every round.

Another aspect of the trip that inspired tension was the travel it would take to get there. Two and a half hours in the car, 15 minutes in a shuttle bus, 45 minutes on a ferry (baby's first boat ride! and glimpse of the ocean!), five more minutes in a car. I was so proud of our babe. He transitioned, wide-eyed, from car to bus to boat to car with such flexibility and ease (well, aside from hearing the horn of the ferry which scared the bejeezus out of all of us), I thought, why don't we do this all the time? (A thought that was quickly repaired by a drive home colored by high emotions from a certain someone. But let's promise to remember only the trip there.)

The house my parents rented was a five-minute stroll from a small public beach that was rocky, but quiet, safe, and lovely. (PS – that's not the house we stayed in, nor is that our car, sadly.) We drove to visit bigger beaches (South Beach and Lake Tashmoo Town Beach). At each one, Miles carefully selected large pebbles that he then tried, unsuccessfully, to eat – I highly recommend, if you can, traveling with five babysitters, each of whom readily swoops in to pry rocks from pudgy fingers, provides an arm to catch a new sitter who sometimes still slowly tips backwards, or cheerily changes a diaper when two mothers who won't be mentioned have just about had enough.

I thought perhaps the baby would feel cautious or even fearful around the crashing waves, cold sea water, or crowds of people, but my child thrived. We dug a shallow hole in the sand and deposited him there with a small bucket clenched in each hand, and there he merrily sat, sneaking a mouthful or two of sand and crowing happily to his grandparents, aunt, and uncles. At Lake Tashmoo, the waves were gentler, and I planted him where they could lick his toes, thinking he'd soon be complaining about the frigid water. To my surprise (again!), there he sat as the ocean visited and retreated – simply issuing a sharp intake of breath each time it lapped around his legs – wholly content.

We continually dodged a marauding family of wild turkeys that lived in our neighborhood as my dad shuttled us all downtown, or to Oak Bluffs. Kristie and I stole away for an afternoon screening of Jaws (the Capawock Theatre plays it every Friday at 2); our group sampled as many different ice cream shops as we could find; my sister Phoebe and her boyfriend Alec took Miles on the Flying Horses Carousel. 

I'm so proud. And so grateful. And my confidence-in-traveling is up – which is good, because Miles and I are headed to NYC this weekend!

Here's a link to our Airbnb. Use this link to sign up and get $40 travel credit for your first trip (I'll get $20 for our next one). Past trips: Cape Cod (plus a video); Maine.

12 apartments around the world you can rent for $100/night (or much less)

Time to start daydreaming...

While my wife Kristie and I are not quite ready to travel with the baby yet, I've been bitten by the travel bug yet again. (It's recurring, I don't think there's a permanent cure.) To quell that travel itch, I searched a few of my someday-destinations on Airbnb, and realized there are so many cheap accommodation options out there! Here are a few where I can (really) imagine myself spending a week or two...

PS: Use this link to sign up for Airbnb and you'll get $35 in travel credit (and so will I!) 

PPS: This post is not sponsored. Except for by my daydreams. 

I spent an evening once in Malmö, Sweden. I was in college, visiting one of my best friends from high school, Cara, who was studying abroad in Copenhagen. In my memories, we seem so young and full of energy! We took the train to Sweden one night for dinner – except, you know, we were broke. So (like all college students) we chose wine over food at an outdoor cafe on a cobblestone street, and played silly games while the sun set and we got tipsy in the cold. 

ANYWAY I would really love to go back to Sweden. This studio apartment in Stockholm is in the Södermalm district (which I recognized from reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo series) and is only $77 per night during the week, and $89 per night on the weekends. Accommodates 2. Doesn't it look so dreamy and tidy?

Traveling to Asia is sort of a bigger, faraway dream of mine. The flights have always seemed to me long and expensive – but worth it, I'm sure, and even more so when you can stay in apartments like this one in Hanoi, Vietnam, for only $44 per night. I don't know if Kristie's interested in a flight that long, so I might rope my sister into trekking across the world with me...
My love-love relationship with Montréal started the summer after freshman year of college, when I visited the city twice – once with my college BFF Chiara because we were 18 and wanted to go somewhere we could drink legally, and then again a month later with my whole family (including the dog) when my brother toured McGill University. And then Kristie and I returned two years ago in February...which oh my god, coldest EVER! But the city was never more charming. Next time we go (it's only 6 hours away from us driving), I want to stay in this loft in Old Montréal. It's $106 per night, sleeps 4, and looks so stylish and cool. 
Private apartment rentals in P-town are so hard to find in the summer; I'm tempted to reserve this cottage now! Pardon me while I swoon over that Smeg fridge for a sec. Provincetown is our favorite Cape Cod destination (we were there in January a year or two ago), and this sweet space is 1/2 block from Commercial St. and sleeps 2 for $99 a night.
Last year when we visited Paris, Provence, and England we were in London for maybe a grand total of an hour and a half while changing trains. It was enough time to grab lunch with my beloved college roommate, but we really didn't get to explore the city. Hopefully our 2019 travel plans will have room for that, because this studio flat in Notting Hill had me at "window seat." It's $94 per night and sleeps 2. As a sometimes-sleepwalker, the loft bed makes me a **tiny** bit nervous, but I'm not kidding about that window seat. 

Tuscany has always seemed like a perfect Italy destination. (And not just because I watch Under the Tuscan Sun whenever it's on Netflix. Which I do.) I've never visited Italy before, but Tuscany is so gorgeous – and close to Florence, plus tinier towns – how could it not be our destination? Dream central. I love the pink bedroom in this Chianti apartment. It sleeps 3 for $71 per night. And that garden/backyard, are you kidding me?
Is it just me, or do homes from the Hudson Valley end up in interior design mags constantly? Kristie and I haven't spent a lot of time there, but it's practically in our backyard (and close to Chiara and her husband Mike). The open floor plan, private location, and clawfoot tub all have this home on my list. It's $110, so one of the pricier places on this list, and sleeps 4. 
I loved visiting Cara in Copenhagen during college. She'd go to class in the daytime, and I'd explore the city on my own. That trip was one of a couple that cemented in me a real taste for travel, and the confidence to go about by myself. I remember standing in the middle of a plads (I can't remember which one) when the bells of a church began to ring and a cloud – a true CLOUD – of birds started swooping around and around, while the bells kept ringing. I will treasure that memory for the rest of my days. So of course a return to Copenhagen would be the most lovely thing, especially if Kristie and I were nestled in this studio flat in the vibrant Norrebro district. It's $93 per night and sleeps 2. (Do you think Danish 7-11's have started making gluten-free pizza?)
One of the things I loved about our apartment in Paris was the little courtyard it had, protected by a number-lock door. Walking through the gate felt like we were home before even getting home...we were part of our own tiny neighborhood where it felt safe to let our guard down a little, and hang out on the steps of our apartment building, playing with neighborhood cats. That's what first attracted me to this apartment, steps away from the Champs Elysées for only $57 per night (I know!). It has the sweetest little outdoor space, plus a bathroom covered in marble, and it sleeps 3. I promised it when we were last in the city, but believe you me, we are coming back to Paris. 
Tulum seems like a trendy but quiet jungle paradise, but really – any quiet spot in Mexico? I'm up for it. I haven't been to Mexico since I was 14, and I've travelled in several other Spanish-speaking countries since, but not much sounds more tempting right now than a chance to put my Spanish to use in a Mexican hideaway. This apartment is a complete tropical dream, featuring a pool, a patio, and room for 5 near the Yalku cenote – for $97 per night. 
I think as long as Iceland Air is offering those unbelievable deals on layovers, the country is going to be a hot place to stop. Kristie's always wanted to see the Northern Lights, and I've heard nothing but good things about the scenery, the city, the people who live there. This studio apartment actually looks like it's a good size, and is a 20-minute walk from Reykjavik city center. That bathroom though! $105 per night, sleeps 3.

After Hurricane Katrina, I travelled with a group of college students down to New Orleans where we spent spring break 2006 cleaning out houses damaged by the flood. I found myself doing things I never, ever thought I would (like nailing shingles to to a roof, or taking down walls with a sledgehammer). It was an incredible trip in a lot of ways, but especially because I got to know New Orleans. Damn, those are good people. I want to go back and maybe stay in this cute cottage. It sleeps 3 for $65 per night and is one mile from the French Quarter and Bourbon Street. 

This list and research really did quell a little bit of my travel urge...at least until tomorrow. Again, this post isn't sponsored at all, but if you haven't tried Airbnb yet, use this link to get $35 travel credit (and I'll get $35 to help fuel our next adventure). 

Cape week

We spent the last week of July in Cape Cod with my family. Together we stayed in a rented house on an organic farm (suffering from a little bit of neglect that was just this side of charming). It was a beautiful few days' break that – despite wind, rain, and chill – included deep conversations, visits to our favorite Provincetown spots, word games, naps, beach exploration, time being silly together, one gloriously sunny and hot day (during which we all got sunburned in our enthusiasm), and good rejuvenative time spent with my favorite people. 

Here are a few photos – I didn't take many, but I do have lots of footage shot collectively by me, Kristie, my dad, and my sister Phoebe that will (soon?) become a video memory of our last family vacation before a new family member arrives.

My favorite new skill.

A feathered neighbor visited during our last morning at the Cape.

This bumper sticker purchased at Womencrafts to replace one that read "PRO CHILD / PRO CHOICE" I bought last time we were in P-town. It didn't stay with me a week before someone decided to remove it from the rear of my car! I'm keeping a close eye on my new sticker.

Video: Our last family vacation before baby

See pictures from our week in Truro and Provincetown here. 

(PS – We bought Chance's Donald Trump chew toy here, but you can also find it online.)

*This post contains affiliate links.

Anxiety hangover

On Saturday I got back from four days in San Diego. It was my first time in California, and I was baffled that in the amount of travel time it would've taken me to get to western Europe, I was still in the United States (barely, though – not to sound too too much like Sarah Palin, but I could see Mexico from my hotel). I felt so far away from home. 

I did all the traveling by myself which, 10 years ago, would have thrilled me. I did love parts of it on this trip too. I'm forever grateful to have the relative confidence necessary to set out on my own and be a successful solo traveler. The older I get, though, the worse my flight anxiety gets – as in, it now exists at all. I don't know how it happened. I do know I want not to give it enough power to stop me doing something exciting. So I cope, with an eye cover and a pill (or two).

My flights out, last Tuesday, all became scrambled due to one plane's delay. I ended up on three connecting flights instead of two (and have since vowed to never fly again if it's not direct – we'll see if that proclamation holds). At least two distinct moments stand out during which I had to force myself to continue with the plan and not burst into tears, rent a car, and just drive the rest of the way.

Luckily, San Diego was there at the other end to catch me in her 67º weather. I had a few beautiful days attending an incredible conference for work, exploring Ocean Beach and the Gaslamp District, and eating room service French fries in bed while watching cable TV. The whole city smelled like a greenhouse. The plants awed me. Birds of paradise, just growing out in the world? It did not get old.

The Saturday spent flying back was easier. Two straightforward flights, both complete with TV screens embedded in the seat before me at eye level. I tuned out from the flight, selecting one movie after another, and made a mental note that this is how I must fly in the future. Exhausted and elated to be back home with Kristie and Samson, I fell asleep – hard – at midnight.

Sunday was uneventful. I crossed off the two items that together comprised my to-do list (unpack and take a shower) and spent the rest of the day in clean PJ's, cat-napping on the couch and casting on a new knitting project – trying to push down thoughts of Monday. 

Here we are. Luck would have it that while I was gone, our big work project finally launched. It's a cause for celebration, and also for meetings and phone calls and emails rippling out continually from the launch. The next few days and weeks will be busy while we cross our T's and dot our I's, challenging what we've created to meet the needs of everyone at the college. It thrills me. 

And, today, it's making me anxious. Like, airplane-anxious.

That level of anxiety is what my system has been used to the past week, so that's my default. At least today, and maybe tomorrow. I'm taking deep breaths, soothing myself with the knowledge that these problems and opportunities are not missing luggage. They're not being unable to find a taxi in an neighborhood I'm not familiar with while the sun steadily sets. They're not wondering whether the sandwich I just ate half of was really made with gluten-free bread as ordered (it wasn't, btw). 

Travel is much less stressful when things don't go wrong, or when you're with people you trust to wake you up when your group is called to board. I don't think this phase of travel-triggered anxiety is enough to put me off adventuring. It was worth it to get new ideas at the conference, to see new freckles sprouting up behind a light sunburn, to talk to new people whose paths would never have crossed with mine otherwise. Simply being outside in the depths of March felt indulgent and luxurious. Worth it.

And? Next time – especially if things don't go to plan – I'll be ready to be a little kinder to myself in the days following. To understand that I need emotional space to re-calibrate. Not to avoid everyday life, but simply to understand that it might feel different. That jet lag will play a role. That things will settle and fall into place and I will feel normal again, soon.