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Wow, some nights are too pretty to explain. 🌙

It started with Luke Combs. I woke up hungover, missing the concert so much that I bought pit tickets for another night because one show somehow wasn't enough. Caught his guitar pick... lost it. Got handed a special piece of paper at the front for keepsakes... lost that too. We laughed because somehow every concert I go to, I leave a piece of it behind.

Fast forward to Akon. Went to the concert in mtl. Had an amazing night. Bought merch… and then I lost the merch lmao fck. Guess what I fucking did, I woke up today and bought tickets for the Toronto show. If I have to drive to another city just to buy the same hoodie again, then that's exactly what I'm gonna do.

At this point, I'm not spending money on concerts. I'm accidentally creating a yearly subscription to the same memories lmao my stupid ass bought an extra ticket... so now I might actually need a concert buddy who's down for spontaneous road trips, loud music, and watching me inevitably lose something before the night's over LOL

Today we’re heading to Gatineau, and it already feels like the start of a summer where there’s barely going to be time to catch our breath. Everything is just stacked one after another, but in a good way, the kind of busy that means life is full.

First of, this weekend is my daughter’s broomball tournament. That’s the main focus right now. I know it’s going to be one of those weekends where we’re tired by the end of it, but it’ll be the kind of tired that comes from being part of something important for her.

Right after that, we’ve got the Akon concert on Friday. It still feels a bit surreal switching from sports arenas to a full concert like that, but that’s kind of what this summer is shaping up to be, constantly jumping between completely different moments.

Then we’re back to Gatineau again to finish the broomball tournament. No real break in between, just straight into the next set of games. Same place, same routine.

After that, we’re into the Cree Nation She-Bears girls hockey weekend. Another rink, another group of strong young players, and another full schedule. It’s starting to feel like we’re living out of bags and arenas, but I wouldn’t trade her experiences in it.

And then finally July 6 hits, she starts hockey school for the entire month of July. That’s a whole different level of commitment. It’s going to be early mornings, repetition, and development every day. It feels like the real summer starts there.

In between all of this, we’re still trying to figure out which dates we’re going for Ottawa Bluesfest and even where to spend on Canada Day. Part of me wants to fit everything in, but realistically we’re just trying to see what days even make sense. Nothing is really simple anymore, even planning fun. There’s also talk about going to Toronto, but that’s still up in the air with everything else going on.

When I look at it all together, it feels overwhelming on paper, but in the moment it just feels like life moving fast. A summer full of travel, sports, music, and memories we probably won’t fully realize the value of until it’s already over.

Father’s Day has always been a complicated day for me.

When I was little, I was my dad’s girl. He wasn’t a perfect man, and there were times he didn’t know how to be the father I needed him to be. Looking back now, I can see that I needed protection, consistency, and guidance. I needed a love that felt secure. But despite all of his flaws and struggles, there was one thing I never doubted, he loved me. He always made sure I knew that.

My dad left when I was probably about eleven. Then, nine years later, alcoholism took his life. Losing him was heartbreaking, but in some ways, I had already spent years grieving the relationship we never got to fully have. For a long time, I carried questions I couldn't answer and wounds I didn't know how to name. I spent years trying to understand what love was supposed to look like when one of the first men I ever loved wasn't able to stay.

Today, Father’s Day doesn’t really feel like a celebration for me. It hasn’t for a long time. Most years, it passes like any other day. I don't feel angry anymore, and I don't feel consumed by sadness either. If anything, I just feel reflective. I miss being somebody’s little girl. I miss having a dad to call. I miss the version of life I sometimes wish had been possible.

But life has a funny way of healing us in places we never expected. When my daughter was 3, her dad and I decided to go our separate ways. One of my biggest fears was that she would grow up feeling fatherless the way I sometimes did. I never wanted her to carry those same questions or wonder if she was loved.

Before we ended things, I made a promise to myself and to him, I told him no matter what happened between us, I would never stand between him and his daughter. My door would always be open. If he wanted to visit, he was welcome. If he wanted to take her for a sleepover, I would never say no. I wanted their relationship to have every opportunity to grow.

And I'm so grateful for the way things turned out. We co-parent with respect, kindness, and understanding. We don't fight. We don't make things harder than they need to be. We both love our daughter, and that has always been enough.

Now she's 10 years old, and she's absolutely her daddy's little girl.

Sometimes I sit back and watch them together, and I feel something I can't quite put into words. It's happiness for her, of course. But it's also healing for me. She doesn't know it, but every time I see her loved, protected, prioritized, and adored by her father, a small part of my inner child heals too.

The little girl in me who once wondered what it would have felt like to have her dad stay gets to witness that kind of love through her daughter. And that is a gift I never expected.

So today, while Father’s Day may still feel like just another day for me, it's also a reminder of something beautiful. It reminds me that cycles can be broken. That love can look different. That a child can grow up knowing her father is there.

I will always miss my dad. I will always wish some things had been different. But I can hold that truth while also feeling grateful for what my daughter has.

To her dad, Happy Father’s Day. Our daughter is lucky to have you, and I will always be grateful for the role you play in her life. thank you. Thank you for showing up. Thank you for being present. Thank you for loving our daughter so well. Thank you for giving her something I once worried she might not have.

Me: few cold ones won’t hurt.

The 7% beer: okay but what if we bought concert tickets and created a whole new personality for the weekend?

Anyway, see you at the Akon show. The love of concerts I have made me buy meet and greet VIP tickets🥴

This moment means so much because it wasn't something I accomplished alone. I'm thankful for her dad and my girlfriend, who both helped her along the way. Their support made a difference when I needed it most. I'm also so grateful for my mom, who gifted my daughter money for her birthday that helped cover some of the cost. That gift eased some of the financial pressure and reminded me how fortunate we are to have people who love and support her dreams.

Watching my daughter grow her love for hockey is something I treasure deeply. Every time I see her excitement for the game, it heals a part of my inner child. It brings me back to my own memories of hockey when my dad would take me to the arena, when the smell of the rink and the sound of skates on the ice felt like magic. Those memories stayed with me, and now I get to create new ones with my daughter.

There's something special about seeing history continue in a different way. I remember being the little girl stepping onto the ice, and now I'm the mom standing on the sidelines, cheering her on. I hope that years from now, she'll look back on these moments and remember how loved and supported she was. I hope she remembers the early mornings, the drives to the rink, the excitement of learning new skills, and knowing that her mom was always there.

More than anything, I'm proud that I didn't give up. There were times when the cost felt overwhelming, but I kept going because I knew how much this meant to her. Seeing her registered and knowing she'll spend four weeks doing something she loves makes every fundraiser, every sacrifice, and every challenge worth it.

I think I've finally accepted that I want the willow to keep growing. 🌿 I'm pretty sure I've made up my mind. The weeping willow wrapped around on my hand deserves a sister piece, and my leg is calling for it. I keep catching myself imagining its branches wrapping around my leg from my thigh all the way to my foot. I think the idea has already taken root within me.

I woke up before sunrise this morning and couldn't fall back asleep. Instead of lying there, I decided to get up, get ready, and head out on a spontaneous adventure. Those unplanned trips have always been my favorite, the freedom of not knowing exactly where the road will take me.

As I traveled, an old song came on, one of those songs that never seems to lose its magic no matter how many years pass. It instantly brought me back to a special memory: hearing it performed live while I was nine months pregnant with my daughter. I remember carrying all those emotions that come with being so close to meeting her. omg my feelings and emotions were all over the place. I smiled thinking about it today.

It's funny how music can transport us to another time in an instant. This morning's drive, the quiet roads, the rising sun, and that familiar song felt like a gentle reminder of how beautiful life's simple moments can be.