Tag Archives: Beauty

Jamberry Nail Wraps Review

I can’t remember the last time I got a manicure.

The days of sitting in a comfy spa chair for an hour and emerging with perfectly painted and dried nails  is just a luxury I just don’t have time for anymore. I can no longer justify spending $60 on nails that last a week. And while I may paint my toes myself, I never do my fingers anymore. My hands always end up looking like I murdered some sort of purple cat, and what paint does land on my nails starts chipping within two days.

So when my sister bought me a set of Jamberry Nail Wraps for Christmas last year, I was eager to try them.

Continue reading

When Motherhood Isn’t Instagram-Worthy

#motherhood

Scrolling through my Instagram feed the other day, I decided to check out the hashtag, “motherhood.” It was everything I thought it would be: babies sleeping peacefully on their mother’s flat postpartum bellies, children laughing as they run through sprinklers and lick perfectly swirled ice-cream cones, the sun setting behind smiling mothers and toddlers clad in matching outfits. The photos are clean and mess free, full of smiles and daydreams, perfect lighting and one-off shots. It’s not real and yet, according to Instagram, this is what “mom life” looks like.

It’s a definition that’s gotten a little twisted along the way – one that I, myself, am guilty of contributing to. My living room floor is currently a maze of dirty laundry piles, carrot-muffin crumbs, and crayons. I ate a cookie for breakfast, my toddler watches far too many Paw Patrol episodes, and last week, there was that faint but persistent smell of milk emanating from somewhere deep within my son’s room. But if you look through my Instagram, you’ll notice that I have never posted a photo of any of that. After all, who wants to look at reality when we can carefully craft fiction?

Continue reading

Rainbow Babies & Miscarriage

My best friend arrived at the door armed with Christmas presents, sugar cookies, and lunch supplies. I sat on the couch, a hand pressed tightly against my abdomen, and watched as she navigated her way around my kitchen. She didn’t have to be here on her day off, bearing platefuls of crispy grilled cheese and creamy tomato soup, but when she’d heard I was miscarrying she’d offered to help.

My son and her swapped Christmas presents while we waited for lunch: a slightly wonky snowman ornament for her and a wrapped parcel for him. He didn’t need much encouragement to rip his way through the paper and uncover the new toy underneath. He could barely contain his two-year-old enthusiasm.

The toy was colourful, wooden, and in the shape of a semi-circle: a beautifully, handcrafted rainbow.

Continue reading