• For the past four summers, my family and friends have taken a summer vacation to Colorado.
• But the kids go to summer camp during the day, so we parents get to have fun.
• I think it's important our kids see us be adults outside being parents.

For the past three summers, my friends and I have driven our families to Colorado to work remotely, be playful adults, and, in some ways, mildly neglect our children.

My friends and I work hard to nurture our relationships. Whether it's a constantly changing technological landscape or a precarious job market, the world around us continues to evolve quickly.

Maintaining a sense of interconnectedness in our friend group helps us to feel more stable, but it also allows us to find communal joy, for ourselves, explicitly outside our kids.

To further connect on trips, we take it a step further and send our kids to day camp so we can get some respite from our typical demands.

Sending our kids to camp gives us parents a break

Parental expectations seem endless these days. Under the umbrella of intensive parenting, there seems to be an implicit message: we need to be constantly available to our kids.

There's a steady stream of emails coming from schools, applications to download for every sport, and a birthday party scene that is, at times, unbearable. To avoid burnout, we need to strike a balance; to thrive, we need enjoyment.

To do so, our children attend a very reasonably priced day camp in Colorado while my friends and I take our own vacation.

It is a much-needed escape from commuting to an office, rushing to the school pick-up line, and making it to another early-morning sports game. A lingering benefit of the pandemic is that we are all able to slip into remote work for a short time; we take full advantage of the setup. Consolidating our work so we can enjoy our downtime is the goal for the two weeks in Colorado.

We commit ourselves to having fun and strengthening our bonds, hoping that our kids pick up on the importance of connectedness, friendship, and enjoying life in the face of unpredictability.

It's important our kids see us as real people — not just their parents

It's a nice byproduct that our children see their parents as their own people — adults who pursue fun and find ways to play.

We certainly field many comments about how "it is not fair" that we do fun stuff without them. But this does not deter us.

In fact, last year, during a hike through the scenic Rocky Mountain National Park, we ran into our children while they were on their own camp-sponsored hike.

That evening was full of more demanding questions about how we spend our time.

The fun doesn't end when we pick the kids up from camp

We have been intentional about picking an area where we can also let the kids roam a bit.

After-camp hours are filled with self-guided play and time spent outside. So, our evenings feel like a nice balance between connecting with our kids and giving them time to play with one another.

Through these trips, we also hope to instill a sense of independence and love of nature. The whole experience ends up allowing our kids to learn from each other in ways they won't when we are around, and the grownups get space for uncensored adult time, leaving us with more gas in the tank.

We are all set for our fourth annual trip. While the kids are excited to escape the Texas heat and get to the mountains, we adults have been planning for our own adventures. There has been talk of our favorite pastries for breakfast, tennis, hiking, and white-water rafting…none of which our kids are invited to.

• Author Kimberly Wilson was a traveler who always had an itinerary and a long list of to-gos while vacationing.
• During a girls trip with her mom, she decided to not plan anything — for once.
• Wilson found that when she didn't create moments for social media, she could actually rest.

I've always considered myself to be a hustler, since my first lemonade stand, in fact.

Growing up in New York, I was raised on a mentality that in order to live the life you dream, the work ethic has to match. That idea followed me through undergrad, then law school, then a career, mostly in travel writing, that practically runs on coffee and momentum. I constantly live a life on go-mode.

It's probably why when people find out how much I travel for work and in my personal life, they assume I love it. It's my natural way of being. And I do, mostly. I'm the one who scours TikTok, Google Reviews, and travel sites to ensure that I'm able to perfectly curate my itinerary from the moment I step foot off the plane, train, or automobile.

But in this season of life, as I'm navigating personal and professional life changes, I've learned that rest can't be my reward. So I wanted to try something new: see what happens when there's nothing to plan. And so I did just that.

How I created rest during travel

This past Mother's Day, I took my mom to Grenada. There was no spreadsheet, no color-coded schedule with a long list of plans and things to do (my mom hates that anyway), and nowhere for us to be. We had our flights, a hotel, and an intention to show up and figure it out. For someone like me, that last part was harder than it sounds — believe me.

We stayed at The Beach House at Silver Sands, and I think the property did half the work for me. Tucked away on the southwest coast of the island, it doesn't have the sprawling amenities, a packed pool bar or an activity desk of a mega-resort that's trying to curate every second of your trip. Still, it was just what we both needed — quiet, a stretch of beach that felt like it belonged to just us, comfort, and luxury.

The property itself is small by design, and ours was only one of 28 rooms and suites. When we walked into our king room, which featured wide windows and a private canopied terrace, we were stunned. The room sat on Portici Beach, which is framed by a stone bluff and water that shifts between shades of blue depending on the hour.

There's also a main infinity pool that we had access to, a spa (at the sister property, Silversands Grand Anse, which we gladly enjoyed one day), kayaks, and beach yoga if we felt so inclined. The options existed, but we didn't feel pressure to partake in them one way or another.

For the first day, I won't pretend I wasn't restless. I kept reaching for my phone to look something up, to find the "best" local spot, and who I knew on the island. Old habits die hard, is what they say, right?

For example, the woman who sat next to me on the plane — a stranger — informed me that a mutual friend was also on the island celebrating their birthday that weekend. They were hosting a themed party, to which she invited us to join, along with a list of activities to participate in while we would be there. My mom, who has watched me operate at this pace my entire life, just looked at me and said, essentially, stop.

So I did. Spoiler alert: I also skipped the party.

By day two, we were in our groove. We ate when we were hungry. We sat on the beach without a plan to leave it. One afternoon we ventured out to Port Louis Marina for lunch at Chez Louis, which felt like exactly the right amount of outside world. A good meal, a change of scenery, and then back to the quiet that Beach House offered. That ratio ended up being the whole trip in miniature.

I worked out every morning, either at the outdoor gym on the beach or over at the main Silversands property, which has more equipment. I'm training for HYROX, so completely switching off for that was never really on the table, and I didn't try to force it. What I noticed was that the workouts felt different there, less obligatory and more like something I actually wanted to do because they weren't rushed or had to fit within a schedule.

We had dinner one night at Grenadian Grill, where the coastal cuisine matched the unhurried pace we'd finally settled into. But honestly, the food was secondary. My mom lives in New York and I'm in Maryland, so we just enjoyed catching up for girl time with zero distractions because that seems to be what is always the first thing that gets sacrificed when life picks up speed (on my end, not hers as a retiree, of course).

I removed the pressure to perform on vacation

I've taken a lot of trips. I've seen a lot of places, but I can't say I've always allowed myself to fully be where I was. Grenada was different.

We all know the travel industry sells rest as a product. And the products are really good most of the time, really, really good actually: a spa package, a swim-up suite or butler service. I'm not going to say, I don't love all of those things. But what I found was that rest isn't really something a hotel gives you, it's something you have to decide to receive. The hotel's seclusion removed the temptation to keep moving and the simplicity of Grenadian life removed the pressure to perform a vacation for anyone, including myself.

I came back to Maryland without a single TikTok video or restaurant video saved for a future trip to Grenada (I scrolled and moved on, folks). Just some photos of my mom and I laughing having a good time on what I hope is many more girls trips to come.

I'm still a hustler, by all means. That's not going anywhere anytime soon, even despite no longer living in "the concrete jungle." But I understand now that rest isn't the opposite of ambition. You need it as part of the infrastructure. And sometimes all it takes is a secluded beach in Grenada, your mother telling you —sternly, I might add — to put the phone down, and a place that's quiet enough to let you hear yourself think.

• Up to 40% of men admit to losing their rings. My husband was one of them.
• To help travelers like us find lost jewelry, people-for-hire scour beaches with metal detectors.
• We found Antigua's very own treasure hunter through Facebook.

My husband and I were on our blissful honeymoon, beach hopping in Antigua, when a look of horror passed over his face. Amid the splashing and digging for shells, his wedding ring had slipped off.

"It's gone. My ring is gone!" Panic rose in his voice.

I, despite my dramatic nature, was surprisingly calm. We bought his 14-karat gold ring at Costco for $1,000. If we had to lose a ring, I'd rather his than mine, which is a family heirloom. However, his band was the one I'd slipped on his finger after our vows, so it had sentimental value.

"We'll find it!" I squeaked. I ran up to a vendor on the beach and asked if we could borrow snorkels. We spent the next hour circling the same 30-square-foot patch of the ocean floor. Nothing.

The sun was setting, so we dragged our dejected, dripping selves into towels and returned the masks. My husband wavered between dead silence and frustrated groans on the drive back.

That night, we looked through pictures and realized we'd lost it at a different beach: Turner's. We'd been looking in the wrong place.

Facebook to the rescue

My husband's not alone in his misfortune. Statistics vary, but several reports over the years estimate that between 10% to 40% of men lose their wedding rings at some point. Through many Reddit posts, I realized there's a solution: a metal detector.

Turns out, people make careers from finding jewelry on the ocean floor. And it's getting more popular due to surging gold prices.

I came across an article in The Wall Street Journal about a famous man from the island of Mauritius who'd found a Frenchman's ring in the ocean not once but twice. I wondered if Antigua had its own treasure hunter.

So I posted in a tourists' Facebook group: "We're on our honeymoon. My husband lost his ring. Does anyone have a metal detector?"

The first comment completely deflated my confidence: "That's a bad omen lol." Another said, "I never wear my good jewelry in the ocean." Most people suggested we pray to St. Anthony or wished us luck. Finally, the next morning, someone mentioned Winston.

Winston Merchant's a local guy from St. John. Over a WhatsApp call, he offered: "$50 if I don't find it. $200 if I do. Cash." We agreed.

"Do you think it'll still be there after two days in the ocean?" I asked over the phone, anxiously chewing my lip.

"Ya, man. It'll be there." Winston's quiet confidence raised our hopes.

The day of the hunt

We met Winston the next morning, 44 hours after my husband lost his ring. He radiated calm. I live in New York City, so I can't grasp the concept of calm, let alone embody it. But this man did. He sported flip flops and a Bob Marley shirt.

As we got to talking, he estimated he's unearthed about 1,000 pieces of jewelry.

"But I've been doing this a long time, man. Since 1998," he later said.

He said he's found rings, chains, and bracelets, mostly for tourists. One time, he said he tracked down a valuable pendant the size of a grain of rice on a resort lawn. Another time, he found a woman's diamond ring on the Sandals beach and delivered it to the airport moments before she boarded her flight.

Full-time, Winston farms marijuana and black pineapple — a rare, exceptionally sweet variety only found in Antigua. This helps him fund his side gig of metal detecting, which isn't cheap.

He said his latest detector, a Garrett Sea Hunter Mark II, cost him $800, and a pair of new headphones set him back $140.

He used my own ring to make sure he was on the right frequency for gold, adjusting the knobs as he floated the sensor over my hand. Then, he set off, scanning the beach.

Soon, he was knee deep in the bluest water I'd ever seen. Whenever his sensor beeped in his ears, he'd scoop a pile of sand from the ocean floor and sift it with a second contraption that resembled a pasta colander, but was cylinder-shaped.

He unearthed a quarter. "I'll keep that," he cracked. Then a matchbox car. Then one aluminum can lid after another. All of it went deep in his pocket so he wouldn't come across it again.

At one point, he was neck deep in water, and I was beginning to lose hope.

Striking gold

An hour and a half later, I sat 15 feet from the water's edge contemplating how we'd afford a new ring when Winston calmly sauntered up.

He held out the pasta-collander tool and said, "You better go surprise him." I peered inside, and there lay a golden ring. Eyes wide, I screamed an expletive.

"Go put it in a shell or something," Winston smiled knowingly. Clearly, he'd done this before.

I ran up the beach, grabbed a shell, and tucked it and the ring inside my palm. I bolted up to my husband and said, "Look at this pretty shell I found." Unfolding my hand, I revealed the ring. Another expletive. My husband's eyes were gleaming.

The pair of us bounced around, cackling to anyone who'd listen, "Winston found it! In the ocean of all places!"

Collectively, that ring spent more hours in the ocean than I did on my honeymoon.

Winston didn't seem surprised at his success. He estimates his find rate is 95%. Sometimes he ditches the metal detector and searches with his hand by feel. He puts so much effort into his hunts because he knows the feeling of losing something special, he told me.

"It's not just a ring. A lot of memories flash through your head when you lose it," he said. "That joy from your vacation gets pushed back, and you leave bitter. I make somebody happy again."

It seemed fitting that my husband was wearing a Pittsburgh Pirates hat. We'd been searching for lost treasure with Winston, who'd struck gold.

• After going on over 20 cruises in the last 10 years, I've picked up some unconventional tips.
• A roll of duct tape is easy enough to pack and comes in handy for small emergencies.
• I also like to book spa appointments on port days because they tend to be cheaper.

I've been on over 20 cruises in the last decade, and always have another one on the horizon.

Throughout the years, I've accumulated an array of helpful travel tips, but my favorite hacks go beyond the usual advice like downloading the cruise line's app and packing a lanyard.

Here are five unconventional cruise tips I swear by that make life on board easier, more comfortable, and more cost-effective. 

I always pack a roll of duct tape, which can fix almost everything.

I always add duct tape to my list of things to pack because it's easy to bring and comes in handy for small emergencies.

For example, I've used it to repair a broken suitcase in a pinch or to bind flip-flops back together long enough to limp to the gift shop to buy a replacement pair.

On one recent cruise, I even used it to cover the motion sensor on the light in our room, which turned on automatically whenever someone walked between the bed and the bathroom.

Though a motion-sensor hall light was convenient in theory, we didn't want to wake each other up if we got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. We just made sure to remove the tape before we left.

For an elevated shower experience, I like to visit the gym.

In my experience, cruise ship bathrooms are designed to be efficient, not spacious. The small shower gets the job done, but it's definitely cramped, especially if you're a bigger person.

I've found that the showers in the gym are almost always larger and sometimes have additional bathroom amenities, such as mouthwash and elevated bath towels.

Doing laundry on board makes packing for longer cruises much easier.

There's usually a laundry or ironing room tucked away on deck for guests. I always make use of these rooms, as washing clothes mid-trip is a great way to minimize how much I need to pack.

Cruise cabins are small, and storage space is limited, so doing laundry on board is the perfect solution.

Plus, I've found these rooms are a surprisingly good place to meet interesting people.

I like to book spa appointments on port days.

Port days are often quieter on the ship because most passengers are ashore exploring.

If I'm not excited about a particular stop or I've visited it before, I consider staying on board and going to the spa instead.

On sea days, it can be tough to book a facial or massage, but on port days, I've found the schedule tends to be much more open. There are often money-saving specials, too, and the relaxation rooms feel so much more peaceful.

I rarely book a room with a balcony.

In my opinion, a room with a balcony isn't essential unless you're on an Alaskan cruise, where being able to take in the scenery is important.

On my first cruise, a travel agent told me I "had" to book a room with a balcony, and that once I did, I'd never be able to cruise in an interior cabin again. However, I don't think that's true.

I love a luxe stateroom as much as the next person, but I've had just as much fun on cruises where we've booked the cheapest cabin without any windows.

This story was originally published on November 21, 2025, and most recently updated on April 27, 2026.