So the first F-bomb has been dropped.

No, not from me picking up dog puke, or Mark trying to make a ponytail.

Nope, rather from the mouth of my youngest child..Joseph....who's 3 years old...the one with the innocent smile who'll plan an ambush the minute you turn your back...

If you're a mom and you've never experienced this moment, or some version of it, then chances are you've somehow birthed mute kittens...

Is is just me, or does it seem like in the past year I've written a lot about the passing of legendary artists.

I'm starting to sound more and more like my grandma...how she used to list the names of the recently deceased within the first 2 minutes of our conversation...right after, “Hi, how are you?” and right before, “So, been to confession lately?”.

Am I already at that age?..

So, my post-festival funk has, for the most part, dissipated.

Which leaves me in the mood to spread a little love.

These past few years, with the continuing evolving of the internet, so many opportunities have opened up and so many good things have come out of it.

Blogging is something I had never really thought about until about a year ago. I didn't really understand the concept of a blog. Is it a website? Who are these ''bloggers''? Who has time for blogs anyway?..

There comes a time in your child's life when you realize how much they're too clever for their own good.

Well actually..more like too clever for YOUR own good...

My perfect little festival bubble has busted.

My shoulders are sun burnt, I sound like a 75 year old woman who's been smoking 3 packs of Marlboro Reds a day for the past 55 years* and the lyrics “Y faut que tu rides sur ton cheval, galope...” keep looping in my head...