My son is home this week.
He’s got an early spring break from college, and I’m genuinely happy about it. I hope every parent gets as much joy from their kids as I do from mine.
Both our boys are thriving and living their best lives at school. That’s the goal, right? Raise them to leave. Raise them to fly. Kate and I have embraced this stage. We’ve found our rhythm as empty nesters. There’s a calm to it. A different kind of freedom.
And still, man, it feels good when they’re home.
There’s something about hearing the door open, seeing the bags hit the floor, watching the dogs lose their minds. It doesn’t feel like aging. It feels like evolution. Like life is unfolding exactly as it should. I don’t take any of it for granted.
Kate’s heading to Boulder this weekend for Mom’s Weekend with our older son’s fraternity. It’s the last one. He’s a senior. Every cliché about how fast it goes keeps proving itself true.
So I started thinking about what Harper and I could do.
With all the noise around travel lately and everything going on in the world, I didn’t feel like dealing with airports, boarding dogs, and unnecessary stress. The weather’s great. Why not head toward Austin and keep it simple?
When I was writing my book, I stayed in these cabins called Getaway. Marriott bought them and rebranded them as Postcard Cabins. Same concept. They’re perfect for guys like me. Men who love nature but have zero interest in camping. I call it selective camping. Sounds better than glamping.
I don’t like bugs. I don’t like setting up tents, taking them down, or owning one in the first place. I don’t enjoy packing gear, sleeping on the ground, or not having a bathroom. None of that does it for me.
But I do love nature. I also love air conditioning. I appreciate simplicity. And I like when nature and comfort meet in the middle. These tiny homes have two queen beds, a kitchen, a bathroom, a firepit, a grill, and chairs outside. Dogs are welcome. You get a code to the door and you’re in.
Perfect.
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We’ll pack up the dogs, fill the Yeti with food to grill, spend a night together, light a fire, and just hang out. The next day we’ll drive into Austin and grab a hotel for the night.
These are the things that bring me joy. They’re not flashy. They’re meaningful. They’re the moments where memories are made.
For years I’ve written about taking the back roads, getting into nature, carving out one-on-one time with your kids. Dividing and conquering. Kate with one son, me with the other, then coming back together and sharing stories. There’s something powerful about that individual time.
When it’s just me and him, the conversations shift. They go deeper. There’s no sibling dynamic, no distraction. Just space. Sometimes silence. And that’s usually where the good stuff lives.
A lot of men think connection requires spectacle. Big trips. Big budgets. Big production. It doesn’t. Life is already complicated and expensive enough. We overwork. We overplan. We overcompensate. We wait for the big trip or for things to slow down.
Don’t.
The window moves faster than we think.
There’s nothing wrong with the big experiences. There’s a time and place for all of it. This weekend just isn’t about that. It’s not really about a tiny home outside Austin either.
It’s about being intentional.
Choosing closeness over convenience.
Presence over production.
Simple over spectacular.
That’s what I’m doing this weekend.
And I’m genuinely stoked for it.
In Health,
Greg Scheinman
Founder, Midlife Male
Husband. Father. Entrepreneur. Coach.
