Dear Diary,
June has been full in the softest, loudest ways.
Liam had his first-ever swim class — a milestone that felt incredibly big and brave. He was all nerves and giggles, clinging to me at first, and then slowly letting go. Watching him float out a little farther with each try felt like a metaphor I wasn’t ready for. Isn’t that what motherhood is? The quiet ache of letting go, little by little.
I’ve been trying to take care of myself, too.
I’m on a high-protein diet plan — nothing strict, just something to help me feel stronger in my body again. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety for a bit now, and lately it’s been creeping in around the edges. So I’ve started working on a new calm schedule. Something slower. Something more intentional. It’s still in the trial phase, but even creating the plan made me feel like I was reaching for myself again — the version of me that feels grounded, cared for, and capable of holding it all.
Father’s Day came with warmth this year.
We had dinner at Caya, a Caribbean restaurant that instantly felt like home.
Conch fritters, jerk wings, and jerk wraps — flavors that carried us back to places we miss, to memories wrapped in spice and sea air. There’s something about food like that — it fills more than just your stomach.
After dinner, we drove out to the river.
We opened the back trunk and turned it into a little picnic space — nothing fancy, but just right. We poured wine, and Liam sipped his Honest Kids juice, smiling like it was the best day ever.
We shared cupcakes and cream puffs, watching the water move, feeling time slow down just for a while.
It wasn’t extravagant.
But it felt full.
And that, I’m learning, is what matters most.
We also celebrated Kita’s birthday this month — and yes, we did our usual tradition: rounding up birthday freebies. For about three years now, we’ve been signing up for all the places that offer little treats on your birthday. It’s become a bit of a game — a small celebration even when the budget is tight or plans are simple. This year, we grabbed a free bundtlet from Nothing Bundt Cakes and a Honeybar from Honeygrow. Sweet, no-pressure joy. And since we’re saving for a bigger trip later, this was a fun, familiar way to still make it special.
Even in a season full of light, there are moments when the shadows find me.
One day this month, it all felt like too much — even the good things. My body reacted before I could name it. A full wave of panic, unexpected and consuming.
I’m learning not to be ashamed of those moments.
They’re just signals.
They pass.
And I do my best to meet them with softness when they come.
We’ve been trying to balance everything with some joy.
We went to the library for a Disney-themed storytime and ended up staying for a Disney-inspired bell choir. And oh… the bell choir. They played that song from Inside Out — the one where Joy watches Riley grow from baby to toddler to child.
And I cried.
Quietly.
Tears were slipping down my cheeks before I could stop them.
That scene wrecked me the first time I watched it with Liam. And hearing it again — in a space filled with children’s laughter and the gentle chimes of bells — it hit even deeper.
He’s just three.
But he’s growing so fast.
And some days, I just don’t feel ready.
But I’m learning to hold both: the joy and the ache.
This soft season is asking me to grow, too.
So here’s to slow schedules.
To free birthday cake.
To tiny swimmers.
To panic attacks, we breathe through.
To every library tear.
To being here — not perfectly, but fully.
Always,
Christina