Why We Made the Heartbreaking Decision to Quit Full-Time RV Living

A story about change, resilience, and knowing when to pivot.

When we started full-time RV living more than three years ago, we believed we had finally unlocked a life filled with freedom, curiosity, and connection. We traveled through all 50 states, explored countless national parks, homeschooled our kids, and built memories that feel stitched into our souls.

What no one tells you is that sometimes the adventure shifts—not because you want it to, but because life gently (or not-so-gently) nudges you onto a new path. This past year has been the most unpredictable, emotional, and chaotic whirlwind of our entire journey. Ultimately, it led us somewhere we never imagined: the end of our full-time RV chapter.

Not because we were tired of it.

Not because it stopped being magical.

Because life—jobs, braces, weather, and circumstances—kept pointing us in a different direction.

Here is the full story. Raw and honest.

The First Domino: My Husband’s Job Shifted

Last year, my husband’s company announced they were eliminating remote positions. He was given eight months to return to the company’s physical footprint. Those months allowed us to finish one of our biggest travel goals—visiting all 50 states—but it also meant a major change was looming.

We returned to South Dakota not only for his job situation, but because both of our kids needed braces. And after pushing orthodontics off as long as humanly possible (and then some), we had reached the point where we couldn’t delay any longer.

We researched every option imaginable that might let us continue traveling:

• Tooth Pillow, a remote orthodontic-monitoring option

• Smile Doctors, a large nationwide orthodontic network

• Invisalign, hoping it would offer more flexibility

The specific treatment both kids needed couldn’t be done remotely or with aligners. It was the first moment where we realized that no amount of determination could bend certain realities.

Then Came the Company Restructure

Just as we were trying to figure out our long-term plan, my husband’s company went through a restructuring. His position wasn’t eliminated, but he was replaced by employees from another department. Because of this, Colton and a couple of his co-workers were laid off.

Suddenly, stabilizing our life took priority over every travel plan we had. Buying a home was off the table. Long-term planning was off the table. We spent the rest of the summer trying to figure out how to keep our lifestyle afloat while everything felt like shifting sand.

Trying to Outrun Winter: The Work-Camping Plan

With South Dakota winter creeping towards us and temperatures that can drop below -30°, we knew we couldn’t stay in the RV all season—not with two kids, frozen pipes, and unpredictable storms.

While my husband applied for new jobs, I accepted our first-ever work-camping job at Firefly Hills in Kentucky. The plan—like so many of our plans this year—was both hopeful and beautifully complicated:

• All four of us would move to Kentucky for a three-month work-camping season.

• The kids and I would fly back home every 10 weeks for orthodontist appointments.

• This would give Colton time to find a new job, ideally a remote one so we could continue traveling.

• We’d reevaluate everything when summer came back around.

  
  

It wasn’t perfect, but it was workable. It kept the travel life alive a little longer.

Then, two days before we were scheduled to leave, Colton was offered a job.

A good job. A much-needed job. A promotion even.

But with zero remote flexibility.

We pivoted overnight:

• We made plans to have Colton move in with my brother.

• The kids and I continued with the plan to go to Kentucky.

• Colton drove us and the RV 15 hours south, helped us get set up, and spent a few days exploring with us.

And then, the part none of us were ready for: we said goodbye and Colton flew back to South Dakota.

The kids cried. I cried. Even the cat probably cried.

Colton started his new job, and the kids and I stayed behind to start our work-camping season.

Falling in Love with Kentucky…But Missing Colton

Within just a few weeks, the kids and I fell completely in love with Kentucky. The community, the landscape, the peace—Firefly Hills had a magic that wrapped around us.

The owners kindly offered us the opportunity to stay through the winter. And while we missed Colton terribly, we thought maybe—just maybe—we could make this life work.

Then came the orthodontic twist.

Initially, the kids needed adjustments every 10 weeks. Manageable.

Then Lylah’s treatment changed and she now needed adjustments every 4 weeks. Suddenly we were looking at flights between Kentucky and South Dakota every single month.

On top of long-distance parenting.

On top of solo-parenting while work-camping and a virtual, part-time job.

On top of constant scheduling, balancing, juggling, rearranging.

We love Kentucky wholeheartedly—but the logistics were simply no longer sustainable.

Leaving Kentucky and Full-time RV Living

One night, after hours of conversations, tears, and pros-and-cons lists that reached novel-length, I said: “Let’s just see what’s available.”

All year long, nothing felt right. I told everyone the house I was looking for was a unicorn—a place that truly fit our lifestyle, needs, and dreams.

Then, the answer to our dilemma, a realtor called me. During all of my house searching a relator had never called me.

If there was ever a sign, this was it.

Within a week, he found the house. My unicorn.

Colton visited it and a few others, but this one stayed on our minds.

Within two weeks, we put in an offer.

After 3 months of living apart, Colton then flew down to Kentucky to help us pack once more, and together we made the long, storm-dodging journey back to South Dakota. (That is a whole other story)

Closing One Chapter…Opening Another

This year stretched us in every direction possible. We had plans, pivots, detours, and complete rewrites. But we grew. As parents. As partners. As individuals. As a family.

Full-time RV life will always be a part of us. It changed us. It taught us. It made us stronger, closer, more intentional.

While we won’t be traveling as fast or as frequently, travel is still in our bones. We still have goals. National parks to explore. Incredible new places to visit. Journeys waiting for the right moment.

Now, we’re beginning a new chapter from a home base—a place we plan to shape with everything the road taught us.

This isn’t the end. It’s a new beginning. One we’re stepping into with gratitude, courage, and curiosity.

Want to Keep Following Our Journey?

Our life may be shifting, but the adventure isn’t stopping — it’s simply changing shape. If you want to stay connected, get behind-the-scenes updates, travel inspiration, and first access to what’s coming next…

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