Deep in playoffs and another win for Ben, because why wouldn’t there be? At this point, his season feels less like a schedule and more like a greatest-hits album on repeat. Win after win after win. No notes. Just vibes. And maybe some sore legs.

This weekend, however, was not a one-team affair. It was a full-scale, multi-venue, split-family operation. Kris, G, and Ryan all had tournament weekends, which meant we officially entered the phase of life known as living out of hockey bags and takeout. Home and laundry seemed like an impossibility. And every surface in the car smelled faintly of rink fries and hockey gloves. (They do not pair well together).

Kris and G headed to Buffalo and battled their way to bronze. And they didn’t do it quietly. Not even a little. They showed up and played in a way that made at least one top-tier team in our league pause long enough to say they were “unrecognizable.”

Boom. Growth will do that.

That’s the kind of comment that doesn’t come from luck or a good bounce. It comes from effort stacked on effort, practices that don’t make Instagram, and kids learning how to trust themselves under pressure. Bronze, sure. But the real win was watching them believe they belonged there.

They also managed to squeeze every last ounce of joy out of the weekend, because despite what they’d like you to think, 13- and 14-year-old boys are still very much capable of having fun. Hotel pool chaos. Mini sticks. Laughing until someone knocks on the door to remind them other humans exist. It was loud, it was ridiculous, and it was perfect.

I’m incredibly proud of G for stepping up and playing with the big boys. That jump is no joke. It asks a lot, and he answered it. And while that deserves its own applause, I might be even more proud of Kris. Because having your younger brother join your team can be… layered. And he handled it with maturity, quiet confidence, and exactly zero visible annoyance. Which, if you know teenagers, is impressive on a spiritual level.

Then there’s Ryan.

This team. These Littles.

They went head-to-head with some big teams and held their own. Not just surviving, but competing. Heart, grit, and development you can actually see without needing to convince yourself. They finished one game shy of the finals, and somehow still walked away bigger than the standings.

I couldn’t be prouder of this group.

Logistically, this is where things got interesting. Because while all of this was happening, I could not physically be everywhere at once. I checked. Several times. Science remains disappointing.

I was an hour away in Buffalo with the older boys, while Auntie made the three-hour drive to Windsor so Ryan could play. He showed up supported, steady, and ready.

Ryan played that weekend in a rink tied closely to his roots. Some places carry history. Not everyone shows up for it. The effort spoke for itself.

And that’s all that needs to be said.

What does deserve to be said, loudly, is thank you. Huge thank you to our extended family and friends who showed up in Amherstburg and Harrow when I couldn’t. You are our chosen family and living proof that family isn’t always blood. It’s effort. It’s rearranged schedules, long drives, loud cheers, and showing up without being asked.

Thank you for being there.
Thank you for cheering loud.
Thank you for holding space.

A massive thank you to my sister for stepping in and making sure Ryan got exactly where he needed to be, no questions asked. 🤍
And a shout out to Chris and Papa for heading out to watch the bigger dudes take the dub, while Grammy held the girls down at home like the unsung hero she is.

Speaking of the girls, Briar had a quietly great weekend of her own. Gymnastics lessons, time with friends, balance where balance matters. Not every win needs a scoreboard, and she found her rhythm exactly where she needed it.

Jai had a weekend that looked a lot like sixteen. Hanging out. Working. Training. Moving through that phase of life where independence starts to stretch its legs and you realize your kid doesn’t need you in the same ways anymore. Which is both beautiful and mildly rude.

Ben, meanwhile, just… kept winning. Every game possible. Casual. No big deal. Just doing Ben things.

And Chris? Chris had a rare and well-earned breather from me and my constant demands, schedules, questions, and “just one more thing” texts. A weekend of hockey watching without logistics, crisis management, or five conversations happening at once. Honestly, a vacation. Just kidding. We don’t do weekends apart very well and both feel blessed to have the love we do.

When I look back on this weekend, I won’t remember every score. I’ll remember the effort. The growth. The way everyone showed up in the ways that mattered. I’ll remember kids skating harder, believing more, and knowing they were backed. I’ll remember that support doesn’t always come from where it’s expected, but it always shows itself clearly.

It was chaotic.
It was exhausting.
It was expensive.
And it was absolutely worth it.