A farewell to summer!

Sure, the kids went back to school a couple of weeks ago but my summer officially ended on Sunday. Between all our travels, kids at home, my girl’s trip to Aspen and then entertaining my brother and his wife last week, I’m hoping I’ll finally get caught up on life soon.

If we had a theme to our summer, it was Get Outdoors. I can’t remember ever spending so much time hiking, boating and playing with friends and family–it truly was our best summer ever! But now it’s time to batten down the hatches. I’m one who sucks the marrow out of life and love to work and play harder but as Jamie reminded me during our walk this week, I’ve been playing waaaaaay more than working. Though I have kept Mile High Mamas going strong, this here blog has suffered from lack of attention.

The last few weeks, I’ve actually been looking for additional work and was interviewed for a digital manager/content position for an inspiring non-profit and I was excited…until I learned it was 40 hours/week with no flexibility to work from home. Add that to a 45-minute commute (one way) and I politely (though sadly) turned it down because our home would fall apart if I was gone 50 hours a week on a non-profit salary.

So, if anyone hears of a great part-time position in social media/writing/blogging/events management/kick-butt marketing, let me know! We have some big expenses coming up like needing a new car and braces for Hadley. And she needs a new bike. Her tutor isn’t cheap, nor is Bode’s dental bill. Now that I mention it, our 11-year-old carpet desperately needs to be replaced and don’t ask me the last time I went to the dentist. Our list–like so many others–is long.

Then I received a query last weekend from someone wanting to do a homeswap with us for a few weeks next summer in Southern England and I was ready to ignore all our expenses and go. Hadley was all-in but then there were Bode and Jamie: our voices of reason. “Mom, we need a new car. Be realistic,”40-year-old Bode reminded me. So, we’re two against two with Fat Kitty as the deciding factor. You know: the feline that freaks out every time we leave him for more than five hours.

We’re doomed. At least we’ll (hopefully) have a new car as consolation.


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