Finding Our Family Rhythm in Woodstock, Vermont

A family getaway—let alone a ski weekend—is no small feat when you have little feet in your life. Still, the benefits are well worth the challenges. After a few seasons of working out the kinks, I’ve learned a handful of ways to calm my anxious-mama mind and ease into a winter weekend with more calm and more joy.

Course Correction

Setting our family up for success means a few things need to happen right out of the gate. I need to chill out on the to-do list, and I need to put my proverbial oxygen mask on first. Gone are the days of jam-packed itineraries and burning the midnight oil. Now, I stage our days with three to four activities at most and intentionally build in long pauses between them.

It took being in my 40s to fully understand that “quality over quantity” applies just as much to family experiences as it does to everything else. I’ve let go of the hamster-wheel mentality and now curate our time so that ease is, quite simply, easy. I know this can sound more aspirational than attainable, especially when it comes to skiing with kids, but I think we’re getting there; it is possible!

 

Location Matters

Our family fell in love this weekend. Truly—we are smitten. Woodstock Inn & Resort became our base camp for a restorative stay centered on Nordic skiing, unstructured playtime, and self-care.

What struck me immediately was how deeply Vermont-centric the experience felt. From locally inspired toiletries to artwork by Sabra Field lining the walls, Simon Pearce lighting grounding the spaces, and cuisine rooted in regional sourcing, the inn reflects a quiet pride of place. Sustainability shows up not as a talking point, but as thoughtful, green-friendly details woven seamlessly into the guest experience.

Seasoned pros, the inn seemed to know what I needed before I did: Beginner-friendly kids’ trails and kid-eye-level artwork at the Nordic Center; An enormous basket of silly goggles to choose from at the Athletic Center; Mini milk pails of crayons at dinner, paired with a kids’ menu that honors both our littlest locavore and our pickiest eater. This kind of intentional placemaking invites multigenerational stays—and you can feel it everywhere.

 

Setting the Stage

Shedding the rush, Woodstock Inn made it easy to set my intention for the weekend with an early-morning vinyasa class. The old me would have felt guilty for not chasing first tracks or tending to the kids first. The Mindful Mama I’m becoming recognizes that I show up happier, more whole—and more level—when I take the time to reset myself first.

“Let it go, and you’ll find peace,” the teacher, Jimmy Serrano, repeated during a long-held pigeon pose.

I’m a 20-year yoga practitioner and teacher, and I still need to hear this. For me, letting go meant releasing the urge to do, do, do—and leaning into doing less with the kids this weekend. I needed that reminder and the permission to follow it.

I returned to our room to find Tashtego happily playing “Take Away Store,” using the ironing board as a makeshift counter in the closet, while Caledonia had transformed into “Lily the Lemur,” springing from bed to bed. I refilled my espresso and celebrated the fact that I hadn’t rushed them awake or hustled us out the door to do all the things. Everyone was happier for it.

Except my glutes—but I needed that.

Bonus Track: Here’s a playful playlist inspired by Jimmy’s “zen mix,” for your Woodstock roadtrip, spa, or ski soundtrack!

 

On Track: Woodstock Nordic Skiing

The Woodstock Nordic Center is a two-minute drive—or an easy walk—from the inn. We were greeted by signs of play waiting ahead of us: a beautiful snow-fa, complete with a snow-carved coffee table, at the entrance. I promised the kids we’d stop there for a snack after our ski.

While the terrain includes hill climbs and kilometers we wouldn’t reach that day, the area that serves as the golf course in summer was as idyllic as a Nordic skier could ask for. A meandering brook, dotted with small pedestrian bridges, ambled along the loop, with century-old hemlocks and maples lining the path. The snow, softened by the season, was forgiving in the sunlit stretches and well groomed where it had firmed up.

Our stops were many, and the old “must clock some miles” version of me loosened its grip. Caledonia built a snowman, complete with skis, while Tashtego pointed out moose tracks I would have otherwise missed. Nordic skiing, by its nature, meets families where they are: accessible, adaptable, and something you can return to for decades. These moments, playing in nature together and allowing myself to truly be present, mean everything.

This kind of weekend stands in contrast to a big-mountain ski trip, where vertical, exhilaration, and athletic performance, (and yes, still, a little ego) can often dictate the day.

 

A Space Where Conversations Spark

After dinner, the lobby fireplace beckoned. Families mingled over board games, drinks, and dessert, and our kids quickly made friends with a preschooler and a fourth grader. As they bonded over bracelet making and Diary of a Wimpy Kid, the usual “where are you from?” icebreakers led us parents to an unexpected realization—we shared dear friends in common.

Visiting from Maine, they had attended The Mountain School in Vershire, Vermont, with our beloved former Connecticut neighbors. Hearing this, a woman visiting from Ohio offered to take our photo to send to our shared friends. She then confessed she was finishing medical school and scouting Vermont as a possible place to relocate.

As a sixth-generation Vermonter, I gladly gave her my contact information for future questions and welcomed her to the land of “hello.”

 

Swim, Cows, Cache & Pac-Man: Inn Amenities & Around Town

After skiing, we warmed up at the Athletic Center just down the road. Complimentary for inn guests, it offered everything we needed. While I might normally carve out time for the inn’s luxurious spa, splashing with the kids took priority this weekend. Thankfully, the adjacent hot tub, steam room, and sauna meant a bit of self-care could still happen between rounds of Marco Polo.

 

A walk through the village to Billings Farm included a clever geocache find (hint: Town Crier) along the way. At the farm, we were pleasantly surprised by an immersive art exhibit and an outdoor story walk layered atop the milking demonstration and agricultural heritage features.

Later on, we may or may not have crashed a wedding after-party. Back at the inn’s social lobby, the kids befriended a flower girl who showed them the stairway to the game room—complete with life-sized Scrabble, air hockey, shuffleboard, foosball, billiards, and, to their utter delight, Pac-Man!

 

 

Artful Eats

I’d like to say that I am not picky eater; however, I am a sober vegan, with a voracious appetite for nutrition and a perimenopausal penchant for clean protein. Our first grader still eats mostly deconstructed sides, and my husband is a former Relais and Chateaux waiter; I remember the first time he introduced me to “amuse bouche,” I thought he was hitting on me. 

Beautifully, the inn’s Red Rooster not only handled my needs – but also my desires – with a cauliflower steak that packed a nutritional punch AND satisfied my craving for umami-forward comfort food. And it did the same for the rest of our family’s varied palates, too!

We also found solidarity; the Saturday night crowd featured a half dozen other families fine dining with children, in prime spots of the room, no less. 

Rather than seeing kids as a cost of business, the restaurant makes their enjoyment a priority too—including a refreshingly varied littles menu that featured fresh takes on old standbys.  Our son’s personal pizza was made in-house and margherita style, with homemade dough, recently crushed tomatoes and generous dollops of fresh mozzarella, while our daughter’s buttered noodles were house-made campanelle, surrounded with local creamery butter and fresh shaved reggiano. 

Small plates like maple acorn squash hummus and apple butternut soup captured New England’s winter flavors exceptionally.   

Throughout the meal, I also sipped on an NA coastal spritzer that had a Saint German adjacent elderberry flavor that was goosebumps good, while my husband had a sans-alcohol sidecar that was safe for the road. And it was also clear from the contemporary quirk of the cocktail list to the classic quality of the pages-long wine list, the Red Rooster has libations to please all moods. Even the Relais and Chateaux husband was impressed. By the time the homemade ice cream, sorbet, and maple cake—which my son described as “Vermont for dessert”—arrived at our table, the entire family had all enjoyed exactly what was right for them.

 

Pride of Place

Across Woodstock, and especially at the inn, I noticed a recurring theme. Yes, visitors were blissed out, as expected. But what stood out just as much was how content the locals and resort staff seemed to be.

I learned quickly that many who call Woodstock home share a deep pride of place and gratitude for the quality of life they’ve built here. Marc, from Long Island, has spent 20 years happily leading groups at Billings Farm. Janine, a former teacher from Philadelphia, now shares her passion for food at The Red Rooster. Jeffrey at Saskadena Six’s ticket office says his wife couldn’t be happier after leaving Manhattan. Stefanie, who works at the Athletic Center, grew up in nearby Pomfret and feels grateful to have stayed local—while proudly noting her daughter is graduating college in Burlington this year.

We agreed that across all ages and stages, there is something grounding about knowing where home is. Thank you, Woodstock Inn—and Vermont—for reminding us.