Some days, it feels like I'm holding this business together with dollar-store tape and cold coffee.

Running a small shop isn't just about putting clothes on racks and unlocking the door. It's pouring every ounce of myself into something that matters - even when it feels like no one's watching. Even when I'm exhausted. Even when the numbers don't make sense and the to-do list is just laughing at me.

But I'm still here. And I'm not just here to sell clothes.

Because this store? It's never just been about clothing. It's always been about connection. About building something with you, not just for you.

Back in November 2024, I said I wasn't going to continue. And part of that was because I truly believed maybe I wasn't supposed to. I had people - people I thought were in my corner - gently telling me it was ok to let go. That maybe this chapter was over. That it would be easier to walk away.

And when you're already exhausted, overwhelmed, and full of doubt, that kind of "permission" to quit starts to sound like the truth.

It chipped away at my confidence. It made me question everything. And it made me believe, for a little while. that maybe I wasn't good enough to keep going.

But here's the thing - I've never been a quitter.

Giving up isn't in my bones. And if you know me at all, you know this: the second someone tells me I can't do something... I decide I will. And not only will I do it - I'll fly.

That was the shift.

I chose to fight for this store - for myself, for my family, and for the people who believed in what I was building.

The support that came afterward meant everything. It reminded me that this little shop matters.

But not everyone was kind.

Some people I thought would cheer me on... didn't. Some unexpected faces showed a different side. There were moments that felt heavy, even hurtful - not because of one big thing, but because of a quiet, unspoken truth: not everyone likes to see someone rise after they stumble.

But I'm still here. And I'm staying.

Because this was never just about business.
It's about creating something that feels like home - even when the world doesn't.

I want to create moments of joy for your kids - yes, even the wild ones who eat glue and scream about socks. I want to host craft tables, little free events that give you a breather and give your kids a place to just be. No pressure. No fees. Just fun.

But beyond that? My ultimate dream is bigger. And it's not about the kids (shocking, I know).

It's about you.

I want to build something for parents. A space just for us. No kids allowed. A place where we can exhale, be human, and talk. Like really talk. About the stuff that doesn't get airtime in school newsletters or PTA meetings.

Imagine a weekly peer support circle - where one parent gets to be the focus each time. We listen, we share, we research actual tools. Not just venting, but healing. Growing. Offering each other a real support without judgement.

Because this parenting thing is hard. Marriage is hard. Existing right now is hard. 
And we weren't meant to do it alone.

This might sound like a stretch coming from a tiny kids' shop downtown - but I don't think it is. I think it's exactly the kind of place that can hold space for both glitter crafts and hard conversations. For toddler meltdowns and mental health. For sticker charts and stubborn hope.

That's where I want this to go.

So if you've ever wondered what this all leads to - now you know.

I'm not just building a store.
I'm building a space.
A lifeline.
A little community that reminds us we're not doing this alone.

Thanks for being part of it - even when it's messy.

With love, grit, and the last of my coffee,
Dee