Tag: writing

Two Homes,One Heart: New Mindset

Well, here we are, another year, another chance to reinvent ourselves. And no, I’m not talking about buying a Peloton or finally learning how to make sourdough bread (though, if you do, please send me a loaf). I’m talking about something bigger: a new mindset.This blog is going to be a little different than the rest. I’m not here to give you a Pinterest-perfect version of life after separation. Spoiler alert: mine wasn’t butterflies, rainbows, and glitter. It was more like duct tape, tears, and a lot of coffee. But here’s the thing, I started this blog because I wanted to be different.I didn’t want to be the person who bashes their ex on social media or turns every podcast episode into a roast session. At one point, you thought this person was good enough to marry, share a Netflix password with, and maybe even create tiny humans together. So why, now, do we act like they’re the villain in a Marvel movie?

The Story That Broke My Heart

There was this girl I knew going through what people love to call a “messy divorce.” And wow, was it messy… mostly because it was all over social media. Every post was like a battle cry: “You go, girl! Make him pay!” And in my heart, I thought, Wait… what?I didn’t get married to get rich. I didn’t have kids to fill my bank account. I just didn’t understand. I knew both of them, they were good people. Her ex? Fantastic dad, hard worker. She? Amazing mom, loving person. So why were they suddenly enemies?And all I could think about was their kids. Old enough to scroll. Old enough to read every word. Imagine seeing your parents tear each other apart online. That’s not just messy, that’s heartbreaking.

Here is the Cold Hard Truth

Divorce doesn’t have to be a war. Sometimes, it just doesn’t work. Sometimes, the healthiest thing you can do for your kids and yourself is to find an alternative. And that alternative doesn’t have to involve hate.So here’s my mantra for 2026: New Year, New Mindset. If I can help even one person realize that neither of you is the enemy, then this blog is worth it. You might feel like the villain for a little while. You might even play the role of “enemy” for a season. But ultimately, peace is possible. And peace? It’s powerful.

Let’s Be Real

We’re all just swimming in the same pool, trying to hold onto the same life raft. None of us are experts. None of us are perfect. But we can choose kindness. We can choose respect. And we can choose to keep the drama off social media. So here’s to Two Homes, One Heart. Here’s to loving without living together. Here’s to raising kids who know that even when things fall apart, love doesn’t have to.

Final Post of 2025: The Beginning of the Start of… Well, Everything

So here we are the final post of 2025. And honestly? I’m still not entirely sure where to start this story. The beginning? The middle? The crazy? The part where I questioned every life choice while eating cold chicken nuggets over the sink?
You know what, let’s just start where it all began, because that seems like the least chaotic option.

Back in March 2020 (yes, that March 2020), my ex‑husband and I separated. And because the universe has a sense of humour, we were both laid off at the same time. No income, no stability, no idea what day it was, just vibes and government updates.

So we made a decision that would make some people gasp, some people judge, and some people nod like “Yep, that tracks”:
We stayed in the same house.

Yep. One house. Two adults. Two kids. Zero income. One global pandemic.
What could possibly go wrong?

We turned our home into a very Canadian version of a duplex:
*He moved into the garage loft, which sounds tragic but honestly, it was kind of cozy in a “man cave meets storage unit” sort of way.
*I stayed in the master bedroom with the kids, who were basically my emotional support humans.

Weekends became our training ground.
He took the kids on his weekends, I took them on mine, and I made sure I was out of the house during his time so he could learn what solo parenting actually felt like, without me hovering like a stressed-out hummingbird.

During the week, we lived these weird, parallel lives. The kids saw both of us, but we weren’t together. He spent most of his time in his garage kingdom, and I floated around the house doing the “holding everything together with caffeine and determination” routine.

But here’s the thing:
If I cooked dinner, he joined us.
If the kids needed something, we both showed up.
If there was tension, we swallowed it like adults who had no energy left to fight.

We weren’t a traditional family anymore but we were still a family.
And that mattered more than anything.

Those four months of co‑living were awkward, uncomfortable, and occasionally made me question whether I should just move into a tent in the backyard. But I would do it all again. Because it gave our kids something priceless:
A slow, gentle introduction to a new version of family.

Not broken.
Not less.
Just… different.

And that’s something I’ve always told them:
“We may not look like the families in storybooks, but we are still a family. You, me, Dad, we’re all still us. Just in two homes instead of one.”

As we head into 2026, I want to keep being transparent with you. I’ll be sharing more about our divorce, our mediation plan, and the decisions I made that some people might call “questionable” but I promise, I’ll explain the why behind every one of them.

If you have questions, topics you want me to dive into, or just want to know how many times I’ve cried in a grocery store this year (spoiler: more than once), please ask. I’m an open book, a slightly chaotic, coffee‑stained book, but still.

I’m so excited to see where this blog goes next.
Thank you for being here, for reading, for cheering, for relating, and for reminding me that families come in all shapes, sizes, and floor plans.

Until next time, have a wonderful week, and an even better year ahead.

Holidays in Two Houses: How We Split the Magic (and Keep Our Sanity)


If you’re a parent, the holidays turn you into a full‑time cast of characters. One minute you’re Mom or Dad; the next you’re Santa, the Elf on the Shelf’s HR manager, the Easter Bunny’s logistics lead, the tooth fairy’s CFO, and somewhere in there… possibly a leprechaun who didn’t sign up for any of this but is doing their best anyway.

And still, these are the best moments with our kids, because the magic is all about them. So when co‑parenting enters the chat, the question stops being “What do we want?” and becomes “What’s best for the kids?” (Even when what’s best for the kids is… twelve straight days of glitter.)

The Talk (A.K.A. Setting Expectations Without Breaking Hearts)
In our house, we started with the most important voices: the kids’. Their first wish, no surprise…was, “We want Mommy and Daddy together.” Unfortunately, that option was discontinued due to irreconcilable differences and general plot development. So we told the truth, gently and respectfully: Christmas would look a little different, but we would always be a family.

Cue the plan. Cue the spreadsheets. Cue the emotional support chocolate.

The Plan That Saved Christmas
We landed on a rhythm that works for us:
Christmas Eve → Christmas Day (noon) at one home
Christmas Day (noon) → Boxing Day at the other
Then it’s back to our regular schedule

Is it perfect? No.
Is it peaceful? Most days.
Is it easy? Absolutely not, especially at first.
Does it require the flexibility of a Cirque du Soleil performer? Shockingly, yes.

I’ll be honest: waking up on Christmas morning without little feet barreling down the hallway toward the tree really hurt. There was sadness, and a bit of depression. But it helped to remember their dad was feeling the same on the opposite day. The ache didn’t mean something was wrong with me; it meant something mattered. It also meant I needed to learn some new self‑care… and maybe stop crying into the wrapping paper.

British New Year’s: Fancy Like 9:45 PM
New Year’s? I don’t drink. If their dad wants a night out, I’m happy to host the kids for our extremely sophisticated British New Year’s, complete with a countdown at 9:00 or 10:00 p.m., and everybody in bed before the confetti calls a union meeting.

It’s adorable. It’s practical. It’s peak co‑parenting. And honestly, the Queen would be proud.

When the House Goes Quiet (and the Tree Still Glows)
Holidays can be loud with laughter and loud with loneliness. My family lives two to three hours away, so visits aren’t always doable. That can feel isolating. I’m lucky to have amazing friends who always offer a spare chair and a spare slice of pie but I’ve also learned to appreciate the quiet.

A lit tree, a crackling fireplace, and me, reading a book or pulling out a paintbrush. Some of those things slipped off the calendar when I became a parent. Now they fit again, right beside hot chocolate and “one more ornament,” which is always a lie. There’s never just one more ornament.

The Co‑Parenting Superpower: Let Them Talk
Here’s my biggest takeaway: Ask your kids. Not once. Often. Ask how they feel, what they want, what matters most. You raised independent thinkers now trust them to think, even when their answer isn’t your favorite.

I’ve heard so many children say their voices felt muted during a divorce. In my opinion, that’s the last thing we should ever do to them. They’re not accessories to the schedule, they’re the reason the schedule exists.

Dads, We See You
Co‑parenting isn’t just a “mom thing.” It affects dads every bit as much. Men deserve respect, empathy, and the room to say “this is hard for me too.” Our kids benefit when they see us respecting each other, compromising, not scoring points, especially when emotions run high and calendars get complicated enough to require a project manager.

What’s Working for Us (Steal What Helps, Ignore the Rest)
*Clear holiday handoffs (noon to noon) so kids know exactly what to expect
*Early New Year’s countdowns to model compromise and make rest a priority
*Open, regular kid check‑ins—we don’t assume; we ask
*Built‑in solo moments for each parent (art, books, naps, long baths, guilt‑free leftovers)
*Friends and community on standby to help soften the lonely spots

I’ll share how we navigate other holidays (Easter, birthdays, long weekends, hello, three‑day logistics puzzle) in an upcoming post/episode. But I wanted to start here, because the season is here, and this conversation matters.

If You Need This Today
If this time of year is heavy, you’re not alone. I’ll be spending part of Christmas Day in front of my fireplace and if you want to talk, comment below or send a message. Moms, dads, guardians, grandparents, whoever’s carrying the magic this year, your feelings are valid, and your effort counts.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Ho Ho Ho, and big hugs.

Two homes. One heart. Always.

Co-parenting: The Divorce Glow-Up Nobody Talks About

Let’s get one thing straight: I am not an expert. I don’t have a PhD in Parenting Through Divorce, nor do I secretly moonlight as a family therapist. I’m just a mom who some how managed to turn “ex-wife” into “better friend” without throwing any dishes in the process.

People kept telling me, “You should write a blog!” And my first thought was, “Why? So the internet can judge my snack choices and bedtime routines?” But here we are. Because while I may not be a professional, I do have something worth sharing: co-parenting doesn’t have to feel like a cage match. In fact, it can be… dare I say… wonderful.

My kids are thriving, my ex and I are friendlier than we ever were when married, and nobody’s hiding in the bathroom crying over custody schedules. That’s a win in my book.

Here’s the headline: divorce doesn’t have to make you enemies.

My Story (a.k.a. How We Didn’t Implode)

I’m a mom of two, one teenager (pray for me) and one elementary schooler (still thinks I’m cool). When we divorced, it was my decision. Not mutual. Not “we grew apart.” Nope. I pulled the plug, and my ex had every right to be angry. That first year? Rough. Think resentment, grief, and enough emotions to fuel a soap opera.

But even in the middle of all that, we agreed on one thing: our kids come first.

And then, plot twist: we separated in March 2020. Yes, the same week the world shut down. While everyone else was panic-buying toilet paper, I was panic-buying emotional resilience. But the silver lining? I got extra time with my kids to help them adjust. By July, I moved out after saving up, while my ex stayed in the marital home. The kids had stability, and I had a fresh start (plus a new appreciation for IKEA furniture assembly).

Here’s the kicker: we moved forward with respect.

My ex literally helped me pack, move, and set up my new place. We did it in front of the kids to show them that even though we weren’t together, we were still a team. And honestly, that mattered more than any custody agreement.

What Coparenting Should Be About

If this blog helps even one family realize that coparenting isn’t about anger, money, or who gets the “good” weekends, then mission accomplished.

It’s about the kids. Always.

Every time you trash-talk your ex, you’re basically trash-talking your child. Because that parent is part of them. Like it or not, your ex gave you the most beautiful gift in the world: your kids. Even if you can’t stand the sight of them, you’ve got to respect that.

Final Thoughts (Cue the Mic Drop)

I don’t know if this blog will ever be big, viral, or even read by more than three people. And honestly? I don’t care. My goal is simple: share what worked for us and maybe help someone else avoid turning coparenting into a WWE smackdown.

So until next time—stay kind, stay focused on your kids, and remember: co-parenting can actually work. And if you’re lucky, you might even get a glow-up friendship out of it.