We have a mission: to show our kids America — all of it. The big, the beautiful, the confusing, and the “why-is-this-taking-so-long” parts too. After our Out West trip this summer, we planned to hit D.C. next year... but when our fall break plans fell through, we decided, “Why not go east — while half the government is shut down?” If there’s a sponsor reading this — our DMs are wide open. WINK WINK.

We traveled with our boys and three girls — two of our former au pairs who are family to us, plus our current one — which made it extra fun (and slightly chaotic in the best way).

Day 1 – Sunday, October 19, 2025

“The Great Flood (of Rain, Not Emotion)”

We hit the road at 6 a.m. sharp — coffee in hand, optimism high, kids semi-awake. Starbucks, obviously. Because no family road trip begins until you’ve waited twenty minutes for a drink you’ll finish before leaving the parking lot.

We headed east toward Pittsburgh and down to D.C. The weather? Relentless. It felt like the clouds were personally offended by us. It rained for eleven. straight. hours. Ohio offered toll booths, corn, and restaurants best described as “adequate if you’re desperate.” We found salvation at Culver’s — butterburgers, custard, and a moment of silence for everyone eating gas station sushi that day.

Somewhere around hour six, my lead foot betrayed me. Joe — who still has two pending speeding tickets — fell behind when Waze rerouted him 45 minutes off course. I waited at a gas station in the rain, rethinking every road trip we’ve ever taken.

Meanwhile, Laura documented everything for her followers, captioning in Spanish about our “epic journey through storms.” Joe tried to teach her phrases like “it’s raining cats and dogs,” which, when translated, made it sound like a national disaster.

By the time we reached D.C., the sun was gone, and so was my patience. We were supposed to stay in Logan Circle — think Lincoln Park meets Lakeview — but when I opened the Airbnb app, the host had “helpfully” moved us to a completely different neighborhood — one we definitely would not have chosen with three kids in town.

We arrived to find a house with bars on the windows, barking dogs, and police lights two blocks away. Joe, trying to stay positive, flagged down a passing officer to ask, “Is this area safe? We’ve got three kids.” She said, “Yeah, it’s fine,” before speeding off. Comforting.

After another cop car parade, I called Airbnb. Thirty minutes later, we were relocated to a literal mansion back in Logan Circle. The boys didn’t even notice the chaos — because Shake Shack burgers appeared, and that’s all it takes to restore faith in humanity.

Day 2 – Monday, October 20, 2025

“Bible Stories & Bond Villains”

We started the day strong with croissants from Tatte, which is basically what heaven smells like. Our plan (thanks to ChatGPT) was to hit the private museums since the government was shut down. Plot twist: you now need reservations. Apparently, spontaneity died in 2025.

So, we audibled to the Museum of the Bible — and it blew us away. It’s interactive, beautiful, and so well-done that even the kids forgot to ask for snacks. Lunch was Mediterranean (which was 10/10 authentic), then off to the International Spy Museum.

While Joe and I escaped for a mini-date, our dream team — Laura, Nele, and Yaha — held down the fort like seasoned Secret Service agents. They deserve medals.

That night, we met Joe’s best friend, Dr. Andrew Marin — a real-life James Bond with theology degrees. He’s worked for the UN, consulted presidents, and somehow looks relaxed doing it. He took us to The Ned for apps and Arnold Palmers (mine sans alcohol because pregnancy). The view overlooked the White House, and Joe whispered, “I’m pretty sure that’s someone I’ve yelled at on TV.”

We ended the night at Le Diplomate, the kind of French restaurant where everyone whispers and the napkins have their own starch schedule. It was our 16th anniversary dinner. Romantic? Debatable. Memorable? Absolutely.

3 – Tuesday, October 21, 2025

“Walking, Wishing, and White House Bars”

Breakfast at the Airbnb — the usual chaos of “who used the last of the milk?” We took the Metrobus to the White House, only to discover no tours during shutdowns. So we took fence selfies and called it good.

Then we walked — correction, hiked — 45 minutes to the Lincoln Memorial. Finn claimed near death at least twice, but the views made it worth it. The Reflecting Pool, WWII Memorial, Lincoln himself — it was breathtaking. The weather was perfect, Lincoln was majestic, and I briefly considered running for office just to have an excuse to stay.

Joe asked a Secret Service agent where to eat. He said avoid food trucks. We didn’t. We bought pretzels that tasted like they’d been salted by regret. Still worth it.

Lunch – Old Ebbitt Grill
The oldest pub-restaurant in D.C., visited by every politician with a parking ticket since 1856. History in the walls, charm in the air, and incredible food. Every server, driver, and security guard in D.C. seemed to be trained in customer service excellence. Chicago could take notes.

Afternoon – O Museum in the Mansion
Imagine Narnia meets Clue meets your grandma’s attic if she collected guitars and spy gadgets. We lost a few kids for a while but they reappeared, so that’s a win.

Dinner – Navigating D.C. with Brooks the Explorer
We handed Brooks the phone and said, “Lead us to dinner.” He nailed it. Trains, transfers, exits — basically running a class on urban survival. Dinner was a sushi carousel in Chinatown. Soy sauce everywhere. Joy levels high. Bedtime came quickly.

Day 4 – Wednesday, October 22, 2025

“From City to Countryside (and Possibly the Afterlife)”

Armed with caffeine and optimism, we hit the road east. Capitol photos. Supreme Court scaffolding that looked like modern art. Georgetown (adorable). Arlington (skipped — too hungry).

We rescued morale at Vola’s Dockside Grill & Hi-Tide Lounge in Alexandria. Lunch by the river. Sanity restored.

Then — highlight — Mount Vernon with my childhood friend Joe Bondi, who runs it. He greeted us with two golf carts. George Washington would’ve approved. Joe (mine) and Joe (Bondi) bonded over George like fanboys discussing sports stats. I half-expected them to start a podcast called Mount Vernon & Chill.

We arrived that evening at a 250-year-old farmhouse in Purcellville — goats, chickens, and (allegedly) ghosts. The owner started sharing ghost stories. We started changing the subject.

Dinner at The Local Cut was incredible. Bellies full, lights out early. Ghost-free… probably.

Day 5 – Thursday, October 23, 2025

“History, Hikes, and Harpers Ferry (aka Cardio Meets Civil War)”

Morning chores: feed goats, feed kids, pack snacks. Laura had class, so the rest of us drove to Harpers Ferry. Joe has fully transformed into PBS Dad. He’s narrating history like Ken Burns with caffeine.

We crossed the bridge where the Shenandoah and Potomac meet — gorgeous, hilly, and somehow uphill both ways. Lunch at The Rabbit Hole was perfect. Then came the $6 scavenger hunt. Forty-five minutes later: no money, twelve suckers. Victory.

Back to the farm. Steaks, sunset, chickens, kids running free. Felt like a Hallmark ending — with more bugs.

Day 6 – Friday, October 24, 2025

“The Great Gettysburg Getaway (and the Fastest Morgan Freeman Ever)”

Joe had one last stop in him: Gettysburg. Morgan Freeman guided us via audio tour — until Joe put it on 1.75x speed. So yes — imagine a caffeinated Morgan Freeman describing cannon fire. The fastest Civil War ever recorded.

We attempted one more family photo at Little Round Top before officially hitting our historical limit for 2025.

We debated staying in Cleveland, arrived too early, and powered through. License Plate Olympics. I pulled out my secret trick — front plates on semis. Found Alaska AND Hawaii. Miracles still happen.

We rolled into home at 9:45 p.m. CST / 10:45 EST — exhausted, triumphant, and still married.

Home Again (for Now)

From mountains to monuments — fall break complete. We’ve braved rain, ghosts, sushi carousels, Civil War battlefields, and adrenaline-boosted Morgan Freeman. We’ve proven that chaos can live right next to joy — and that the best memories are born right after someone says, “This was a terrible idea.”

So… where to next?
Joe’s lobbying for the Redwoods. I’m manifesting passports and room service. The kids just want spinning sushi.

For now — we’re home. In our own beds. No ghosts, no goats, no golf carts. And that, friends, is the real American dream.

Meg,

xoxo