If you've ever been to Paris--let alone with one child, two, or even three--you'll deeply appreciate Luisa Perkin's chronicle of traveling to Paris with her husband and all six of their kids (ages 1 to 16). Here's a teaser....

"I've probably made the trip sound too perfect; it wasn't. There were a few whines and short tempers and meltdowns here and there. These things are inevitable when eight people are constantly together for three weeks straight. I fell down some stairs and did something bad to my elbow; I went to the doctor when I got home, and the ulnar nerve is still inflamed. (It's slowly getting better.) There was the quicksand incident. The kids broke a couple of toys. The exchange family's cats threw up on the couch once. We may have killed the hydrangea and a couple of roses through neglect (I never have to water yard plants here in New York because it rains so much, and I fear we did too little, too late in the French yard). But it was as close to perfect as a trip can get."


You can also check out how they prepared for the trip.

Over Labor Day weekend, I went to London with my husband, Matthew. We went for our friends Greg and Paula's wedding, and it was our first trip without our kids since they were born, over three years ago. The trip was too short, but I am glad that we finally got away together, and London was the perfect place to go. For the first two nights, we stayed at the Stafford, right off St. James Place. It's a charming little hotel down a sleepy cobblestone street. It's quiet and feels removed, but it's only a five-minute walk to Buckingham Palace, the Cabinet War Rooms (Churchill's headquarters during World War II), Jermyn Street, and St. James Park. And it's a five minute walk to the Wolseley, where in my fantasy life I would dine every morning. Breakfast is always better in a well-appointed room with bespoke tableware and 30 feet of soaring space between your head and the ceiling. And the food is impeccable: The eggs with soldiers, the orange-scented homemade granola, and the pastries are all delicious. It's a very grand room, dating back to the 1920s, but there were lots of kids, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. So if we return to London with our children, we'll be back for high tea.

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In theory, taking a vacation with the extended family sounds idyllic. It can, however, become stressful if not planned properly. To that end, I have only two words: separate houses. We just came back from one of our best vacations in Nantucket. My partner, Fred, our 4-year-old daughter, Vivi, and I spent a week with Fred's sister and brother and their families. All in all, there were six adults, eight kids, and two houses.

The "cottage" we found online ended up having a lot more space than we expected. So every morning, the three of us had a quiet breakfast at our house (or an indulgent meal at Downyflake) before meeting up with the other families for a few hours on the beach. Then it was back to our house for a little unwinding—counting the shells we collected, a Bob Marley sing-along—and dinner before heading over to my in-laws' house for after-dinner drinks. The adults took over the front porch, the kids had free rein of the house and TV, and everyone was happy. Whereas Vivi couldn't believe that she was allowed to watch SpongeBob at night, eat candy after dinner, and run around the yard in the dark, Fred and I secretly enjoyed the fact that we got to leave the craziness of seven kids at the end of the night to go back to our quiet cottage, tuck in our exhausted daughter, and listen to the crashing waves. The solitude lulled us to sleep so that we could wake up and do it all over again the next day.

The best way to arrive to Annapolis, Maryland, is from the water. You’ll pass everything from tankers to kayaks in the Chesapeake Bay. And as you near town, the elegant buildings and dome of the U.S. Naval Academy will come into sight. We docked at the Annapolis Yacht Club, where sailing races are held every Wednesday. (You can stand on the pedestrian Spa Creek bridge for a great view of the finish line.) For a short period, Annapolis actually served as the nation’s capital in 1783, and many historic colonial buildings remain. (Think Boston on a much smaller scale.) The Historic Annapolis Foundation offers walking tours with a guide or self-guided digital-audio tours so you can go at your own pace.

Thanks to the many delicious snacking spots, you can take refreshment breaks along the way. For example, after stopping at the City Dock area (where there's a statue honoring Alex Haley and commemorating the docking of Kunta Kinte slave ship), you can inhale a delicious crepe at Sofi’s and then dash off to the U.S. Naval Academy for a tour. Don’t miss the crypt of Revolutionary war hero John Paul Jones--he's the guy who uttered the famous slogans “We have not yet begun to fight” and “Never give up the ship.” Other don't-misses: the model midshipman’s room or Bancroft Hall, one of the largest dormitories in the world (with a rifle range in the basement).
 
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Even though it's been pretty wet on the island of Nantucket, our time there was far from being a drip. There was still much to do and see. Click below to see our recommendations for where to stay, where to eat, and what to do.


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On our last visit to my in-laws in Pittsburgh, my mother-in-law suggested that we take our boys to Idlewild, an amusement park 50 miles away in Ligonier, Pennsylvania. I settled into the car with great trepidation (as thoughts of cheesy signage, loud music, and neon plastic danced around in my head), and I grew even more worried as the drive stretched to two hours and the skies grew black. Just as we pulled in, though, the sun broke through, and I was delighted to see that we were nestled in the cool woods. I felt like I was entering a national park, not an amusement park.

In short, Idlewild was wonderful, and perfect for my son Alex, who is almost 4. He and his cousin, who's 7, took off through a three-story-high wooden obstacle course, and then we caught a train to the area with the rides for the younger kiddies. Because of the sporadic rain, the lines were short, and the two tikes ran from one adorable, old-school ride to another: a mini Ferris wheel, boats that went around in a little pond, race cars that wove through a thicket of tall trees, a trolley through Mister Roger’s Neighborhood, airplanes, motorcycles, you name it (even my younger son Ben, who is 21 months, got on a few).
 
The area was so contained, and the rides so safe (just slow enough for us relax; just fast enough for them to get a thrill) that we could keep a little distance as they made their circuit, and both adults and little ones reveled in the freedom. The day flew by. At the end, we counted and realized that Alex had gone on 21 rides, including the enormous adult Ferris wheel, which he loved (my husband looked green when he got off). The only one Alex didn’t get to do was the older-kid bumper cars. He was a few inches shy of the cutoff height, and as we drove away at seven p.m. (right before he conked out until the next morning!), he kept insisting that next time, he would be big enough.

My wife and I had always wanted to find a place to vacation annually with our two sons--that traditional place you get familiar with and return to over and over. Whitney had coastal Rhode Island in mind--in particular the Narragansett area--after having spent a summer there working  at a theater many years ago, and since I'm also a sucker for New England waterfront charm and lobster rolls, I was right there with her. But while we were pretty sure the area was a good choice for us aesthetically and temperamentally, we had no idea if it would be affordable--or already booked by the (late) time we got around to planning our trip.

As it turned out, we needn't have worried. Rhode Island's coast is just far enough from New York City to have avoided much of the buildup you see on the Connecticut coast nowadays. Not all the old fishing towns are really old fishing towns anymore, but they retain that low-key vibe. While I'm sure the recession also played a part, all this seemed to translate to relatively reasonable vacation-house rental prices. With a minimal amount of online searching, we found a small cottage on a salt pond, five minutes' walk from the beach and the Atlantic, that fit our budget nicely.

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Our time was running out. After we got married five years ago, Jamie, my husband, and I couldn't quite justify the expense of a honeymoon, so we simply shelved it as a "someday" thing. And then I got pregnant, and we realized it was now or never for that deferred dream trip. Only the economy was tanking and the Dow was cellar dwelling, and in some ways, we could justify the trip even less than we could have in 2005.

Which is where Tulum, Mexico, comes in. We could fly to Cancun using our JetBlue miles (two free round trips!), and we could stay on the beach at Zamas for $150 a night, and we knew we could eat cheaply (I wouldn't be drinking) because we were heart-set on devouring apertivos and tacos from the main drag in town. And when people talk about the exchange rate with Mexico--especially Tulum--they are wrong to be talking in terms of dollars to pesos. They should be talking about the pace and feel of a U.S. day to a Tulum day: The place is so low-key, so luxuriously rustic (there's an ocean breeze instead of A/C, and the peninsula runs on windpower and doesn't usually have electricity after 10 p.m.), that four days there feels like a full week's vacation.

We visited two ruins, swam in three cenotes, ate the most delicious tamales and carnitas and huaraches (sin vergules cruda, for me, in a nod to my pregnancy), and every day spent some time reading on the somewhat rocky beach at Zamas before heading up the road to the public beach, with its perfect blue water and excellent waves for body surfing. We no longer felt like our time was running out.