A mother takes her daughters on their first trip to Italy

Kelley McMillan Manley didn’t lose her adventurous travel spirit to motherhood. She brought it to Italy.

All fall, a low-grade hum of guilt followed me. Every time I declined an opportunity to lean into motherhood — volunteering for the PTA, coaching lacrosse — a wave of anxiety surged through me. I began to wonder: What kind of mother am I?

First, a bit of context. Domesticity is not my natural state. I was born with a restless spirit and from an early age sought out novel experiences — black diamond slopes at eight, climbing 14,411-foot Mt. Rainier at 14. I was lucky to find a career as a journalist that took me heli-skiing in Alaska and climbing the Matterhorn in Switzerland.

I was also fortunate to find a guy whose appetite for risk and adventure matched mine. At a party in Colorado in 2011, I met a handsome Green Beret — a guy who parachuted out of planes for breakfast. He was just back from a deployment in Mauritania; I was freshly returned from an assignment in Zambia. Our courtship was a highlight reel of adventure: hiking in Chilean Patagonia and skiing the Haute Route, an 80-mile traverse from Chamonix, France, to Zermatt, Switzerland.

In 2015, we got hitched. Two years later, we had our first child, a girl, strong and fiery. Twenty-two months after that, another sweet daughter came along. Both have big, blue eyes and long, dark lashes, and they blow my heart wide open. They also clipped my wings, and I, gladly, put adventure aside for a time.

Fast forward to last fall, and the girls, now 6 and 8, were able to do more and go further. Eight years into motherhood, the urge for adventure was swelling inside me. Fall break was looming, but my husband had to work. Then I landed a plum assignment that would take me to Italy. Could I handle a big trip with them — alone?

Adventure overrode fear. I packed our bags, loaded up the iPads, and planned an ambitious ten-day itinerary that would take us from the Dolomites to Rome. My friends thought I was crazy.

San Cassiano in the Dolomites. Photo courtesy of Aman.

The entrance hall at Aman Rosa Alpina. Photo courtesy of Aman.

First Stop: The Dolomites

After a two-and a half hour drive from Venice, one in which our Italian taxi driver announced that my “girls are like a hurricane,” we landed at the Aman Rosa Alpina in the mountain-ringed hamlet of San Cassiano in the Dolomites. Originally opened in 1939, the Rosa Alpina is legendary among well-heeled travelers, beloved for its charm, elevated hospitality, and its third generation owners, Ursula and Hugo Pizzinini.

In 2020, the Pizzininis partnered with the luxury hotel group Aman. After a down-to-the studs renovation, the 51-room hotel reopened in July 2025 as Aman Rosa Alpina, revealing a full-scale, modern reimaging of the historic property.

After twenty-four hours of travel, stepping into this cocoon of luxury — soaring windows in the lobby bar, a welcome drink at the ready — revived my weary mom spirit. I was delighted that check-in occurred in our room, while I lay on the king bed of our junior suite. The peace didn’t last: It wasn’t long until my girls, with their border collie energy, discovered the fancy Japanese toilet and began cranking up the bidet feature full throttle, yelling, “fireworks!” as they launched water in the air. I prayed they wouldn’t break it.

We blew off steam in the outdoor infinity pool that seems to spills into the Badia Valley, and my girls spent hours cannonballing into it while I watched from the hot tub and took in the views of the UNESCO-protected Dolomites. I hoped this would tire them out. When they hit the kids club, I ducked into the spa for a moment of zen, a godsend.

The outdoor pool at Aman Rosa Alpina. Photo courtesy of Aman.

girls on a mountaintop — New friends on the mountaintop. Photo by Kelley McMillan Manley.

That night, the Pizzinini’s daughter joined us for dinner and a round of Uno. The girls swapped stories about school and grumpy teenage brothers — ;a cultural exchange unfolding before my eyes.This ;was what I had in mind when I set out on this adventure.

After two days, we said our goodbyes — my daughters leaving with an Italian pen pal — and we pointed the car south. Soon the peaks of the Dolomites gave way to the rolling hills of Tuscany, and a shiver of excitement rushed through me. I’ve always loved the experience of discovery that travel brings, but this time, sharing it with my children made it even more electric.

Castelfalfi in Tuscany — The top Tuscan village of Castelfalfi. Photo courtesy of Castelfalfi.

Junior Suite at Castelfalfi in Tuscany — A junior suite. Photo courtesy of Castelfalfi.

Stop Two: Tuscany

Around sunset, we pulled into Castelfalfi, a gorgeous hilltop resort with sweeping views of the Tuscan countryside about an hour from Florence. With beautiful grounds, acres of vineyards, and a perfectly restored medieval village humming with life, I felt as though we had stumbled into a Tuscan dream. “This is top Tuscany,” I overheard a man tell his wife in the lobby as we checked in. I was about to find out exactly what he meant.

Castelfalfi isn’t just a resort — it’s an experience. The borgo feels like a living Tuscan village, one where the shopkeeper greets you by name and the woman in the gelateria piles heaping scoops on waffle cones for very excited children — all of this set on acres and acres of perfectly manicured gardens, vineyards, and olive groves.

But it’s the resort’s roster of experiences that really puts Castelfalfi over the top. Over four days, we tried archery, learned how to make pasta, and rode e-bikes to the beautiful hilltop village of Ghizzano. We went truffle hunting with Teo, a third-generation truffle hunter, and his two dogs. Each time Teo pulled a truffle from the ground, my girls’ eyes lit up with awe and delight. Again and again, Castefalfi delivered the kind of blissful moments that you dream of as a parent, the ones that so often seem elusive. Here, they were around every corner.

Truffle hunting at Castelfalfi — Truffle hunting with Teo. Photo by Kelley McMillan Manley.

Eating pasta at Castelfalfi — Sampling the pasta she learned to make. Photo by Kelley McMillan Manley.

sisters watch the sunset — Happy siblings. Photo by Kelley McMillan Manley.

Still, solo parenting is no joke, and every morning, my feral children woke me up with their playful carousing, which would inevitably descend into fighting and tears, and me wondering, “What the F was I thinking doing this trip alone?”

No surprise then that, six days into this adventure, mama needed a moment. So I dropped the girls off at Falfy Kids Club, the resort’s amazing Montessori-inspired kids club. While they did science experiments, baked cakes and played mini golf, I went for a run through the property’s vineyards and olive groves, past swimming pools, a lovely Medici garden, and the 14th-century castle that was once a watchtower and is now home to Castlefalfi’s super chic Stefano Ricci suite. On Castelfalfi’s cobblestoned main drag, I passed a group of locals gathered over apertivi in front of the alimentari, their laughter floating into the evening air.

Over the course of that run, I took it all in and marveled at how perfect it all was — a living, breathing slice of Italian paradise. The girls and I were out in the world, exploring and squeezing out the nectar of life together. In this moment of calm, I realized I didn’t have to choose between motherhood and adventure. I was learning how to bring them together.

The guest lounge at the Bulgari. Photo courtesy of Bulgari Hotel Roma.

Bulgari Hotel Roma Caffe — Il Caffe at Bulgari Hotel Roma. Photo courtesy of Bulgari Hotel Roma.

Stop Three: Rome

The next day, we continued south, through the golden flatlands of the Maremma toward Rome. I was 20 and backpacking around Europe the last time I was here. Some 25 years later, I was just as gobsmacked by this city as I was the first time I visited. Or perhaps even more so because I was staying at the Bulgari Hotel Roma, the epitome of high Italian luxury.

Perched across the street from the tomb of Augustus Caesar in the Campo Marzio neighborhood, the Hotel Bulgari’s facade is as imperial as its setting. Soaring marble columns tower over an elegant outdoor cafe dotted with palm fronds and white-coated waiters. Inside, hand-laid mosaics and gold-dusted Murano light fixtures evoke the craftsmanship of the legendary jeweler.

Learning about Roman ruins. Photo by Kelley McMillan Manley.

Bulgari Hotel Roma rooftop — The rooftop at the Bulgari. Photo courtesy of Bulgari Hotel Roma.

A friend had recommended a golf cart tour, so I booked one with Liv. Over two hours, our affable twenty-something guide Luca showed us Rome’s greatest hits: Trevi Fountain, the Colosseum, Circus Maximus, the Forum, Palatine Hill, Villa Borghese. His fascinating snippets of the city’s history combined with the thrill of the golf cart kept my girls thoroughly engaged.

The last night of our trip, we went up to the hotel’s beautiful rooftop garden, dripping in jasmine, bougainvillea, and soaring views. The sun was setting and the city’s church bells began to toll. I’ll never forget the beauty of that moment. As we looked out across a city dusted in golden light, my heart swelled with gratitude. New Italian friends, adventures in the Tuscan countryside, running wild in a medieval piazza at midnight — maybe this is what motherhood looks like for me. Not less adventure, just a different kind of adventure. I may never make my kids’ Halloween costumes, but I can show them the world, and how to make the most of being in it. This is the kind of mother I am — an adventurous one.