Parenting, Birthdays, and Letting Go

This summer, I turned 41.

My kids were away at camp near my parents’ place, my husband was traveling, and I didn’t want to stay home alone in Ottawa with just the dog—I get spooked. My parents live on the water and have a stunning view, and the opportunity to spend time with them felt like the right move. So I packed up and spent the week at their place. It was busy, but lovely.

For years, my birthday meant messy cakes baked by little hands, homemade cards with backwards letters (I still love homemade cards), and snuggles on the couch with my two girls piled on top of me. Now that they’re tweens and teens, those snuggles are rarer—and the chaos has changed, too. I was often exhausted, but I cherished those love-filled moments—and maybe that’s why this year felt so different. So still. So quiet. A little more lonely. When three of the people you love most in the world aren’t with you, it leaves a space. And this year, I had to decide what to do with that space.

It was the first time I had ever spent my birthday without my husband and kids. That realization made me a bit sad—but to my surprise, it turned out to be the perfect week for the kids to be away. The house was quiet, my schedule was open, and I had the chance to do something I would truly enjoy. So I leaned in and took advantage of that blank canvas.

At Beacon North—the company I founded and now lead as CEO—we have a birthday policy: every staff member gets their birthday off. It’s a tradition I started last year when I turned 40 (You can read more about turning 40 here: [link to blog about that]), and it’s now part of our culture. One of the perks of being a boss is deciding the kind of company you want to build—what culture you foster and how you show up for your team. This is one way we do that.

So, this year, my mom and I spent the day in Almonte, a charming small town just outside Ottawa. We explored the shops, enjoyed good food, and soaked in each other’s company. My parents surprised me with cake and a rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Friends and family called or sent messages across social media. It was a beautiful day.

I had a migraine (of course), and wasn’t feeling great, but I still managed to enjoy the time with my mom. That night, I felt worse, so instead of our plan to go out for dinner by boat—a personal favourite—we ordered pizza. It was exactly what I needed. We stayed in, cozy and calm... well, sort of. Tornado warnings were flashing on our phones all evening.

Reflecting on Motherhood, Marriage, and Growing Up

The experience made me reflect on motherhood. How must my own mother feel now that I don’t spend my birthday with her every year? Having my kids away at camp gave me a new appreciation for that. It meant so much to be cared for by my parents, to have that time with them—especially my mom. And I know she cherished it too.

It also made me reflect on my marriage. A strength of my relationship with my husband is how independent we both are—a dynamic that works well for a family with one parent who travels and two people fully leaning into careers they love while also wanting to parent well. It doesn’t come without its challenges, but it’s helped us both grow as individuals and as parents. Still, this week on my birthday, I missed him. It made me sad that he wasn’t there. 

My girls are tweens and teens now, growing up fast and moving through a season of increasing independence. We’re in the thick of transition—and I’m feeling it. It was a glimpse into what empty nesting might feel like, it made me reflect on my parents, what they have been through as their children transitioned into adults. A glimpse of understanding and sadness of what that has been like for them. 

I have to remind myself—gently—that not everything is about me. Even when I feel sad or left out of my kids' lives, it’s often more about my own expectations than about what’s actually happening. When my girls want to hang out with friends instead of family on a Friday night, I try not to take it personally. Their growing independence isn’t just inevitable—it’s essential.

In the end, don’t we all want our kids to become kind, capable, self-sufficient adults who thrive and contribute meaningfully to the world? Expecting my children to meet my emotional needs won’t help them grow into who they’re meant to be—that’s about me, not them.

It’s my job to help them get there. We’re raising children to become adults, not to keep them small. That’s why I believe it’s so important for mothers to maintain their own identity, interests, and passions as they parent.

And that isn’t easy—but that’s a conversation for another day (though I’ve written about it before [insert blog link here]).

I personally don’t believe children benefit from being the sole source of their mother’s happiness—especially as they grow up. You only have to scroll through the viral conversations on social media about adult children going no contact with toxic parents to understand what that can look like in the long term.

Which brings me back to birthdays—and the evolving rhythms of family life.

Embracing Change, Celebrating Growth

There will be more birthdays without my kids in the future, and I will cherish the ones I do get with them. I’ll still celebrate—even if it’s not on the exact day. What matters is that I stay grounded in what they want and need too.

Being an independent woman with my own interests, friendships, and passions is good for me—and for them. It models what womanhood can look like. It gives them permission to grow without guilt, and to see that being a mother is part of who I am, not all of it.

It also reminded me how important it is to celebrate with my own parents, too. Birthdays aren’t just for us—they matter to the people who raised us. I’ll hold on to that day I spent with my mom in Almonte—the laughter, the quiet moments, the memory of being cared for. I’ll treasure it.

And I’m learning to let community, friendships, and family help fill the spaces that naturally come with this stage of parenting. I’m also finding myself again. This week, I tried a boxing class with a friend—something I couldn’t have easily done when my kids were younger. I’m trying new things, opening new doors. It feels good.

For my future birthdays, I still hope to see the people I love. And in general, I’m slowly learning to hold my girls a little more loosely. It’s not easy—but it’s required.

Final Reflections

There’s something tender about these in-between years—when the kids are still yours, but less so every day. When birthdays start to look different. When business replaces chaos. When you realize that the people you once carried now need space to carry themselves.

I’m learning to accept these moments, even when they ache a little. To make space for the sadness without letting it overshadow the joy. To keep showing up for myself—not just for everyone else. As I wait for my kids to return, I’m looking forward to warm hugs, their excited stories from camp, and a long embrace and kiss from my husband. And yes, I’m also very excited to see what he bought me!

I still hope to spend future birthdays with the people I love. But I also know that love isn’t always about being in the same room at the same time. It’s in the texts, the traditions, the memories—and in the quiet strength we build in between.

So this year, I celebrated differently. And that doesn’t mean it mattered any less. In fact, maybe it mattered even more.

“You are not required to set yourself on fire to keep other people warm.” — Unknown

As you reflect on your own seasons—whether you're in the thick of parenting, the transition, or the stretch of rediscovery—ask yourself:

What do I need to celebrate well? What do I want to carry forward, and what is it time to release?

There’s no one right answer. Just the permission to grow, shift, and show up fully—as you are now.