We have officially reached that very specific week in February where the school calendar feels like it was designed during someone’s third cup of coffee. A couple of half days, a ProD day, and Family Day Monday are all stacked together, and just like that we are gifted a four day weekend.

My mom brain is thrilled at the thought of four extra days of slow mornings, couch cuddles, and soaking up these fleeting years that everyone keeps warning me about. My entrepreneurial brain, however, is staring at the same calendar like it just misplaced something important. Four days is a lot of time away from my business, four days of emails that will politely wait, and four days of momentum that I simply have to trust will still be there on Tuesday.

The internal board meeting is lively.

The Swimming Pool Debate

A few days ago, in the shower where all ambitious parenting ideas are born, I thought, “You know what would be fun? Let’s take the kids swimming on Monday.”

It sounded wholesome, active, and memorable.

Then logic gently stepped in.

Every parent in British Columbia likely had the exact same brilliant thought, which means that pool is not going to be calm and serene. It is going to be loud, humid, and filled with at least one child doing a cannonball directly beside me while I am cold and trying not to get my hair wet.

There is also the small detail that we are just crawling out of a cough and cold that overstayed its welcome by about three weeks. Add in the reality that I would need to shave, possibly locate a swimsuit that still fits, and muster the energy to stand in a crowded change room, and suddenly the couch feels like a far superior option.

So no pool for us. Instead, I will enthusiastically suggest a family walk and mention fresh air at least twelve times. I will attempt to limit screen time without sounding like a broken record and convince everyone that this was my brilliant plan all along.

Parenting is glamorous.

The Tender Part

Underneath the humor, this week feels soft.

It is a few more days until my dad’s birthday and a few more weeks until it has been a year since we lost him to cancer. Grief is strange like that. It does not wait for a convenient moment. It shows up in the shower, in the grocery store, and in the middle of loud family chaos when you instinctively reach for your phone because you wish you could call and say, “You would not believe these kids.”

There is also that familiar working parent tug of war, the constant balancing act between growing something meaningful and being fully present at home. The guilt can be loud, and the mental tabs are always open.

But what feels louder right now is gratitude.

The Beautiful Mess

I get to raise six incredible humans who are loud, creative, opinionated, funny, exhausting, and wonderful all at once. I have front row seats to their jokes, their sibling negotiations and arguments, their big feelings, and their even bigger dreams. I get to watch them slowly grow into capable, kind, resilient people.

Family Day does not have to be Pinterest worthy, and it certainly does not require a fully booked itinerary or a packed car. It can look like leggings all weekend, hair in a claw clip, and coffee reheated four times. It can look like board games that end in dramatic accusations of cheating and movie nights where no one agrees on the movie but everyone ends up on the same couch anyway.

It can look like a simple walk instead of a crowded pool. It can look like remembering the people who shaped us, like my dad, and choosing to love our own families a little louder because of them.

The Part That Includes You

As I think about time, legacy, and the kind of life we are building, there is another layer of gratitude that I cannot ignore, and it has everything to do with you.

Weekends like this, where I get to close the laptop a little earlier and lean into slow mornings instead of productivity, are only possible because of our SweetLegs community. Every order placed between school pickups and football practices, every kind review, every tagged photo, and every decision to support a Canadian, family-built brand instead of the fastest click on the internet truly matters more than you know.

You are not simply customers to us. You are part of the ecosystem that allows this business to support a real family with real kids, real grief, real joy, and real life happening behind the scenes. When you pull on your SweetLegs for school drop-off, travel days, grocery runs, long work shifts, movie nights, or even that brave attempt at a crowded public swim, you are choosing comfort that moves with your real life, and that means more to us than I can fully express.

If You Needed Permission

If you are heading into this long weekend feeling stretched between work and home, between grief and gratitude, between wanting to make it magical and simply wanting to survive it, you are not alone.

You do not need a packed schedule, and you do not need to brave the busiest pool in the province. You do not need to do it all.

Pull on your coziest SweetLegs, choose simple, choose connection, and choose presence over perfection. And if you do decide to go swimming, I truly admire your bravery.

Happy Family Day, BC. We are so grateful you are here.