7 tips to enjoy a hotel stay—with a baby!

 

Not long ago I traveled up to Seattle for my younger sister’s baby shower. We spent just one night in the emerald city to the north and stayed in the Alexis, a boutique hotel blocks from Pike Place Market with gorgeous, spacious rooms and a fantastic restaurant downstairs. I wish I’d known a tad bit more about how to do the family travel thing right and plan a hotel stay with a baby.

Hotel stays used to excite me—a night away, new and luxurious toiletries, someone else to make my bed. But now? Not so much.

I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in feeling a wee bit anxious bringing a baby to a hotel. Will the guests next door call the front desk if my little cries? Will the guests next door throw a raging party and prompt me to call the front desk?

You can take some of the uncertainty out of family travel—and even enjoy a hotel stay with a baby. Seriously.

When you're on a family vacation, help your baby sleep in a hotel with these tips. Ten Thousand Hour Mama

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When you’re terrible at meal planning: Learning to feed myself—again

I may be terrible at meal planning, but Mama’s gotta eat. So I have to learn to feed myself (and my family!) so no one, especially me, gets hangry.

How to not suck at feeding yourself when you're terrible at meal planning. Ten Thousand Hour Mama

I’ve always been terrible at meal planning.

Case in point: One late night when I was in college, my roommate Cedar walked into the kitchen and found me eating cold refried beans out of the can.

He was mortified. I was mortified.

“At least heat them up,” he said. Oh, the shame.

I had a few semi-legit explanations for my sorry excuse for a meal. I was operating on an average of five hours of sleep a night, was the editor-in-chief of the journalism school’s magazine, tutored other college students 20 hours a week and maintained a 4.0 GPA. Cooking was not exactly at the top of my priorities.

The truth is, though, when things get tough on the home front, I’m terrible at meal planning in particular and, more generally, the basic skill of feeding myself. Worse, I have a very fast metabolism and burn through food like a hummingbird. I’m also the world’s most indecisive person if I haven’t eaten in a while.

But even though I’m terrible at meal planning doesn’t mean I can’t learn.

How to not suck at meal planning

Being terrible at meal planning has its consequences. Take, for example, one time (or, ah, multiple times) when I was pregnant with Peeper. I came home from work, sat down in the middle of the kitchen and bawled because I was so hungry but didn’t know what to eat.

Thank goodness for cereal, amirite?

Anyway, the notorious night of the refried beans popped into my head this week when I was ravenous and had stuck my head in the fridge for the fourth time only to see that, disappointingly, no fully prepared meals had mysteriously appeared. I ended up microwaving some refrieds and eating them with cheese on a tortilla. Not quite as pitiful as that college snack, but still.

Anyhow. This is all to say that especially because I’m growing another tiny life inside me, I need to be a little more conscientious about feeding myself (and the rest of my family).

Why meal planning is the answer

You and I already know the reasons to meal plan. It reduces food waste—a huge problem in the US, where we throw out 133 billion pounds of food every year. It saves money. And it saves the stress of having zero clues or inspiration on what to put on your plate each night.

I’ve been utterly crap at my previous attempts to plan our meals ahead of time. But we should never let the past define our futures! (Ok, I’m getting a little ridiculous, but you know what I mean!)

 

So help me, Internet world: What is your best advice for planning meals? Or are you like me and find yourself settling for canned refrieds for lunch?

Peeper’s new favorite food

I was in the kitchen scrubbing dishes when I realized that the sponge-on-plate sound was the only noise I heard.

If there is one truth in parenting, it is this: Silence means your child is up to no good.

I shed the yellow dish gloves and peeked my head around to the living room, where Peeper had been playing. There she was, playing all right, but not with her stacking cups or beach ball.

Somewhere she had found a Ziplock of dog food. She had managed to open it and spill it on the ground. And, of course, she was shoving handfuls of it into her mouth.

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