We were in Spain. One of those picture-perfect trips. Me, my husband, my two sisters, and their husbands. Sunshine, beautiful streets, wine, laughter. The kind of vacation you dream about. The girls decided to go tour a palace while the guys went off to find a motorcycle shop. Fair trade. Now, if you’ve been to Europe, or are lucky enough to live there, you know washrooms are not always… simple. You either pay, or you go on a hunt for the free ones. And being the thrifty Cana

I recently attended a live event in the online coaching world. The kind of thing that’s supposed to light you up, expand your mindset, and connect you with “your people.” But it didn’t feel like that for me… like at all. Instead, I walked away with this heavy, unsettled feeling in my chest. Something felt off. On paper, it was everything I should’ve loved. The lights, the energy, the big names, the “we’re all in this together” vibe. Everyone there looked successful, confident

By Donna Simard Christina watched snowflakes drift softly from the sky, turning the world outside the hospital window into a quiet winter postcard. Normally, snowfall during the Christmas season filled her with joy, but this year, joy felt far away. Instead, she felt fear, uncertainty, and the hollow ache of not knowing what came next. She turned toward her eight-year-old daughter, Bella, lying in the hospital bed with IV lines and monitors gently beeping beside her. Bella wa

We went to a funeral recently. You know the kind where you walk through the church doors and see faces you haven’t seen in years. Family members you only get to hug when someone dies. The ones you grew up with but now only meet again in moments of loss. There’s something strange and sacred about that. About standing shoulder to shoulder with people who once filled your childhood, brought together again by grief. We grew up where funerals were a familiar part of life. From as

Every year on November 11th, we stop for two minutes of silence. The world seems to still itself as voices fade, movement slows, and the sound of bagpipes carries through the air. It’s a beautiful thing, that shared moment of gratitude. But this year, when we stop and bow our heads, we’ll be thinking of someone close to home, our brother-in-law Rick, who served for 26 years in the military. Two tours overseas. Countless days and nights away from his family. Training, courses,

My husband left early one morning this week, and I slept in. Which meant one thing: my trusty coffee pot warmer turned off, and I was left with cold coffee. In true mom fashion, I was trying not to wake the entire household by microwaving it, so I sat there content, sipping my cold coffee versus the alternative of waking everyone up. Kris texted me a quick “How’s your morning?” and I shot back, “Great… thanks for the cold coffee.” His reply? “Why the heck do you think I bough

The other day, on a long hike with one of my dear sister-in-laws, we found ourselves deep in conversation. Between the crunch of gravel under our shoes and the quiet stretches of trail… who are we kidding, we ran a full marathon with our mouths. Bears didn’t dare approach us with the loud voices and laughter echoing through the trees. We chatted about everything under the sun and, of course, The Summer I Turned Pretty. That spiraled us right into a bigger question: What would

There are chapters in life that mark you. For me, Pre-K was one of them. I spent years in that little world, surrounded by tiny humans with loud voices and even louder imaginations. Some days it was messy and wild. Some days it was magic. Most days, it was both. And even now, I miss it. I miss the random hand-raising that had nothing to do with the lesson. Me: “What do bears eat?” Kid: “My grandma has a cat!” I miss the curiosity that came in the form of five different questi

I used to think homeschoolers were weird. There, I said it. If someone had told me years ago that I'd be homeschooling my kids, I would have laughed in their face. Me? The mom who counted down to the first day of school each fall? The one who had zero teaching experience in a school system and, while patient, knew that working with my own kids on schoolwork was a completely different ballgame? No way. But here I am, several years into our homeschool journey, and I've never be

You’d think I’d be prepared. Gramma was 90. Ninety. She had lived a full, beautiful life, raised generations of stubborn, independent, loving people, and had been asking God to take her home for years. She was ready. She had told us, over and over, that she had made peace with leaving. And yet, when she finally passed, the grief hit in ways I didn’t expect. I miss her in the big, obvious ways….holidays, birthdays, the family gatherings where her presence was as familiar as th

Remember during the pandemic when we all became "professional" hairstylists? And by professional, I mean absolutely clueless people wielding sharp objects near our loved ones' heads with way too much confidence. Yeah, let me tell you about the time I accidentally gave my husband the world's most unexpected buzz cut. So there we were, deep in lockdown, when my husband decided he wanted a mohawk. You know the type - business on the sides, party in the middle. "Sure, honey!" I s

This phrase lurks in the shadows, waiting to pounce the moment you start feeling even slightly sorry for yourself. It could always be worse. And sure, technically, that’s true. Things could always be worse. But does that mean what I’m going through right now doesn’t suck? That my struggle isn’t real? That I should be grateful my situation isn’t at peak disaster level? At the height of my mysterious, undiagnosed medical nightmare, walking around with lips quadrupled in size, m

You know how we're all trying to create those special family traditions? The ones our kids will look back on and say, "Remember when we used to...?" Maybe it's cookie decorating, or matching Christmas pajamas, or in our case - attempting a family paint night. Because who doesn't want to be that Pinterest-worthy family who creates beautiful art together while making precious memories? (Pinterest moms are either lying or have secretly replaced their children with robots. And ou

You know those moments when you’re apologizing for everything? Like you’re late to a party, and before you even take off your coat, you’re already halfway through an over-the-top explanation about how the roads were bad because it’s the middle of a Canadian winter, your dog wouldn’t pee, and your kid had a meltdown over mismatched socks? Or maybe it’s spilling tea on your shirt and apologizing to… what, your shirt? The floor? The tea itself? Why do we do this? Why are we, as

Amanda nailed it in her last blog: life is a rhythm of highs and lows, chaos and calm. Some days, you’re crushing it, and others, you’re just trying to keep everyone fed and semi-clean. But in that rhythm, there’s beauty. It’s not about having it all figured out; it’s about leaning into the moments as they come, knowing the highs wouldn’t feel so sweet without the lows. Becoming a mother was one of the most beautiful and life-changing experiences of my life, but after a while

I'm standing at the sink, drying dishes, stacking them in neat piles I know will last approximately 2.5 seconds before someone decides to make a "quick snack" that somehow requires every clean dish in the house. My eyes drift to the dust on the light fixtures of my high ceiling. Cleaning it feels like an impossible task. I mean, I could tackle it now, but honestly? I don't have it in me. Besides, who's even looking up there? The kids? Yeah, no... they’re too busy leaving stic