It's been a quiet break. Home days. Reading. Baking. Watching movies.
The cake may have crumbled. But turns out I didn't.
I haven't been around much lately. Because, well, life. It is happening as I type.
This year I said I wanted it to be a perfectly ordinary day. No muss, no fuss.
Turns out I am perhaps the world's worst dance mom. I have an accomplice though in the Husband, he's not all that great a dance mom either.
There is something in the making of birthday cakes. There is love, in all its schmaltzy glory, stirred into every layer.
Today I'm heading to Tasmania with the kids. There is nothing new in this, being as much of our family live there, as do many friends.
I may wear my heart on my sleeve, but for now, I've covered it in a button down shirt, keeping it safe.
Something happened when we entered the pavilion. There is, it seems, a little bit of magic left after all. The friends pushed through two large wooden doors and found themselves in a wardrobe. In
There is a saying in our family. Usually said on a particularly good day. When things are slow. When not much gets done apart from a drawn out lunch, an afternoon snooze or sitting