Eight months. One spring break. Countless late nights, deep breaths, and quiet little moments later that made coming back feel right. Him.

Mabel’s in her hot pink, leopard print, post-surgery onesie and acting like I personally betrayed her. Which, fair.

Going to Ireland next year for my brother’s wedding. Which means I’ll be practicing my “mmm, love a Guinness” face for the next 12 months.

RIP to the frozen yogurt era. We paid $9 for sadness disguised as a “healthy treat” and called it healing.

It’s the Friday of the long weekend and I have the next 10 days off. If you need me, don’t.

4 things I’d rather do than go back-to-school clothes shopping with my 11-year old daughter: 1) Get a root canal without anesthesia 2) Talk politics at Thanksgiving 3) Sit through a timeshare presentation 4) Parallel park on a busy street

Day 5 of staycation: enjoying my back deck, the light breeze, a boozy drink, murder book, and Mabel at my feet. Five minutes later: the kids are screaming, Mabel’s barking, and I’m rethinking the whole ‘stay’ part of staycation. 🤦🏼‍♀️

I’ve now reached the age of telling my kids the true urban legend of the fire breathing dragon at the West Edmonton Mall Cineplex theatre. #yeg

Are you even a Mom if you don’t roll into #FreakierFriday like you’re running an underground concession stand out of your purse? 😅

Bea says Happy #InternationalCatDay… and yes, she is filing a formal complaint about this haircut.

Some people play cornhole for fun. I play to win. On a patio. With a margarita.