Vacations, Jelly Stains, and 49 Meetings

When I sat down to write today, I figured it had been a month—maybe six weeks—since my last post.

Nope.

Three months. To the day.

Apparently, the time between May and September is a time warp (also known as summer), and it somehow accelerates every single year.

When I realized how long it had been, I thought it would be fun to look back at the numbers of summer—from May 20 (my last post) until today—and see what I’ve really been up to, both personally and professionally. Looking at the list brings me pride and happiness…along with a healthy dose of, “what on earth was I thinking?”

So here it is: the summer of 2025, by the numbers.

• Track Meets: 3

• Work Meetings: 117

• Basketball Tournaments/Camps: 7

• Custom Group Trainings: 7

• Assessments: 50

• Volleyball Camps: 2

• Times We Ate Out or Ordered In (Because Mom Forgot Groceries): I lost count

• Family Vacations: 1

• College Visits: 3

• House Projects: 1

• Times My House Was Actually Clean: 0

• New Clients: 5

• Senior Pictures Completed: 1

• Water Heaters Dying a Slow Death: 1 (RIP, you served us well)

It’s been a great summer. And an exhausting one. But each of these numbers represents an experience—moments that pushed me, reminded me, and taught me.

Lesson One: Just because the calendar is open doesn’t mean you should fill it

There was a stretch of three weeks where I counted 49 meetings.

Forty-Nine.

Looking back, I also remember being cranky at home, running on fumes, and living in a house with no bread, no milk, and what felt like no mom. My family was gracious and understanding—but I wasn’t. And that’s when I had to stop and ask: wasn’t one of the reasons I started my own business to control my schedule and actually be more present with my family?

This summer was a clear reminder that rest and margin aren’t wasted—they’re part of the design. I’m thrilled about the growth of my business, and I don’t apologize for being ambitious. But just because there’s an open slot on the calendar doesn’t mean it has to be filled. Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is leave it blank.

Lesson Two: Not everyone needs something done yesterday

This summer also confirmed something I already suspected: I am the queen of creating fake urgency.

I’ll tell a client on a Friday, “Hey, I can get that to you Monday,” without even asking if they need it Monday. Spoiler alert: they usually don’t.

And what happens? I either stay up late making it happen, or I go back sheepishly with, “So…when do you actually need this by?” Neither option screams “competent professional.”

Now, I keep a bright Post-It note on my computer that says:

• When do you need this done by?

• Can I get back to you?

It’s not rocket science, but it’s saving my sanity.

Lesson Three: Vacations don’t have to be perfect to be perfect

We rented a cabin near Lutsen, MN for a week in August. It was awesome (even with the dumb smoke). But one night, we hit a family standoff over dinner: some wanted to go out, some wanted to stay in, and some just wanted to keep the peace.

For about 20 minutes, no one was happy. Finally, the adults called it—we were going out. And you know what? It turned into one of the best nights of the trip.

In previous years, I'd be quick to let a rough moment convince me the night or even the whole trip is a failure. But vacations (and life) aren’t ruined by imperfection. Families fight. Families compromise. And then families eat too much, tell inappropriate jokes, and make memories that last.

Lesson Four: Embrace the chaos

Confession: I hate cleaning. Hate, hate, hate it. But somewhere in my head lives this voice that says, “Good moms keep Instagram-worthy homes with spotless kitchens and throw pillows that are always fluffed.”

This summer, my house was…let’s just say more lived in than usual. Which was fine—until my daughter brought friends home unexpectedly.

Picture it: dirty dishes in the sink, an island covered in groceries and mail, sticky jelly stains, and dog-hair tumbleweeds rolling across the floor. I was mortified.

But the girls? They didn’t care. They grabbed water, we all chatted and laughed, and then they carried on with their day.

It hit me later: yes, they probably noticed the chaos, but what mattered more was the people. The connection. The fun. Jelly stains and all.

Do I want a better system for cleaning? Absolutely. But I’m also learning to release the shame and accept that sometimes a “lived-in” house is the price of a full life.

Lesson Five: Encouragement doesn’t always come from you

On my way to a training this month, I queued up my usual murder mystery audiobook. But it just felt heavy, so I switched to the radio. The first three songs on the Christian station were upbeat reminders of who I am in Christ.

My attitude shifted immediately. By the time I walked into the training, I was lighter, more joyful, and ready to go. The training itself? One of the best I’ve done. People were engaged, laughing, learning—and I was too.

Here’s what I realized on the drive home: encouragement isn’t always something I muster up on my own. Sometimes it’s as simple as turning down the noise of the world and tuning in to God’s truth. His words remind me who I am, whose I am, and how I get to show up.

When I let Him fill me up, I can pour out to others from a place of joy instead of depletion.

Wrapping it all up

The summer of 2025 reminded me of this: growth is good, but margin matters. Vacations don’t have to be perfect to be perfect. Chaos doesn’t cancel connection. And the best encouragement isn’t just self-talk—it’s truth. God’s truth.