Just beyond the bright red door of our cozy little home, a giant pile of shoes tells the story of our days. On Sundays, after an early morning cleanup, the pile is a tidy row of velcro Nikes and ballet flats. By Thursday night, it is a undulating heap of rain boots, broken flip flops, an errant sock, random baseballs, someone’s crusty wet tennis shoe, and swim goggles.

Each week, we start with the best of intentions and, each week, the shoe pile reflects what our lives are really like: colorful, scattered, adventurous, and nonstop.

Our house is now exactly one month into summer break. We’ve adjusted our schedules, rooted for our Cavs, given up on the one-popsicle-a-day rule, and shivered our way through early morning swim team practice. We have picked berries, hunted for sea glass, played a lot of baseball, and happily accepted Rice Krispies as dinner at least twice. Okay, maybe three times.

Part of me is frustrated – this summer was to be about continuing the momentum of my year, when the kids were in school eight hours a day when I could work and launch MotherBoard, and still be home for the bus every day.

But the truth is that this summer has already become something different.

MotherBoard is moving right along with awesome new developments coming in daily (stay tuned, friends). I am being attentive to my clients and making work happen. But we adjusted. I’ve adjusted. Not changed, not shifted, not moved course. Just adjusted. And we are making summer work.

I just caught a glimpse of the shoe pile on my way back to my laptop. There’s a shin guard in there now (soccer ended five weeks ago) and my ugly but functional slip on Skechers have reappeared (most necessary when one is too late to carpool to tie her shoes).

By late August, most of this will be cleared and replaced with backpacks and un-scuffed mary janes. I will welcome the order and the structure. But I will miss this special summer kind of madness, too.

My wish for you this summer?

May your days be as full of color and adventure as your shoe pile. (And may your kids not lose their goggles on the FIRST day of swim practice. Amen.)