A strange thing happened the other day when I was looking at my numbers.

Last February the website brought in about $5,000. This February it was just over $10,000 — double the sales.

When I zoomed out even further, the pattern was even clearer. The first quarter of 2025 brought in $15,984. This year, the first quarter has already reached just over $30,000. That’s an 88% increase.

Objectively, that’s the kind of growth you’re supposed to celebrate. Pop champagne. Do a little dance in the studio. Tell everyone things are working.

Instead, I mostly stared at the screen in disbelief.

Because the first thought that crossed my mind wasn’t we did it.

It was: okay… but what about next month? Can I keep this up? Why doesn't it feel like enough? Where did it all go? 

That’s when I realized something strange about achieving goals.

You spend years working toward something, believing that when you finally reach it you’ll feel settled. Like you’ll arrive somewhere. Like there will be a moment where you can stand still and take it all in.

What no one really talks about is what happens when you get there and the goalpost quietly moves again.

The thing that once felt big suddenly becomes the baseline.

Running a small business doesn’t leave much room to sit with that realization. The moment you slow down it feels like everything might pile up — orders, inventory, payroll, emails, ideas, responsibilities. This beautiful machine you’ve built keeps moving, and if you pause too long you worry you’ll fall behind.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

Over the past few months I officially incorporated The Hobbyist.

For years the business technically existed as a partnership proprietorship, though in reality it hasn’t functioned that way for a long time. The person I originally opened The Hobbyist with hasn’t been an active partner basically since it's conception. Bless her though, I wouldn't have done it without her pushing me the way she did. 

And still, the business kept growing — slowly and quietly — with the help of contractors and a small circle of people who stepped in when things got busy. Somewhere along the way it stopped being a small project and started becoming something real.

Now it feels like the right moment to legitimize this little studio in a new way.

I’ve started working with an accountant to iron out the nitty gritty number stuff — the parts of a business that sit behind the scenes but matter more than people realize. Opening a proper business bank account. Setting up a business credit card. Building systems that can support the next stage of growth.

At the same time, I’m developing something I’ve wanted to build for years: a wholesale portal on the website so shops can order directly instead of going back and forth through emails and spreadsheets.

I’ve also been slowly working through every product page online, rewriting descriptions and making sure the story behind each offering is clear.

None of this work is glamorous. It’s the quiet kind of work that slowly turns a small project into a real business.

The next step is hiring my main helpers officially — offering stability, working toward benefits, and building something that supports the people who support the work.

It took about five years to reach this place. Five years of pouring candles, cutting soap, packing orders, figuring things out as I went and fiercely believing in myself. 

Now my husband is starting to pull back from his full-time job — our stable paycheck — so he can work alongside me. The hope is that by September he’ll be fully in the business.

For a family, that’s a big-ass leap.

At the same time, some of the most meaningful growth happening in our lives right now has nothing to do with soap or candles.

It’s Jade.

This year she’s been homeschooling with the goal of returning to school for Grade 7 with stronger reading and writing skills.

When I was growing up, school looked very different. My parents had three girls and life was busy. No one was really watching closely to see whether I could confidently spell Wednesday or read something out loud without hesitation.

So I became very good at hiding my inabilities.

I figured out workarounds. I learned how to avoid situations where I might have to read something difficult. I got clever at disguising the gaps.

Looking back now, I sometimes wonder how things might have been different if someone had slowed down and helped me build those skills earlier. Not because I didn’t eventually figure things out — but because maybe I would have carried that confidence sooner.

Now as a parent I sometimes catch myself wondering if my own insecurities about education quietly shape how I guide Jade - but I know every child has their own path. 

What I also know is this: when someone believes in you and gives you the space to learn something that once felt impossible, something begins to shift.

And lately we’ve been seeing that happen.

Jade reads menus now without hesitation.
She reads road signs while we’re driving.
She isn’t afraid to try anymore.

That shift — from fear to willingness — is huge. Watching that unfold might be one of the most encouraging things I’ve experienced this year.

Growth rarely looks the way we imagine it.

Sometimes it looks like incorporating a business after years of quietly building it.

Sometimes it looks like a family taking a leap together.

Sometimes it looks like a kid reading a menu out loud for the first time without second-guessing herself.

The goalposts keep moving.

Maybe that isn’t failure.

Maybe that’s simply what growth looks like.

And maybe the real work is learning to pause long enough to notice how far we’ve already come.

I have a feeling this isn’t just a small business thing.

I think it happens to anyone building something that matters to them. You work hard to reach the next step, and by the time you get there your mind is already focused on the next one. The goalpost moves quietly and suddenly the thing that once felt impossible just becomes normal.

If you’re building something — a business, a family, a life — do you ever feel this too?

Like the goalpost keeps moving just as you reach it?

I’d love to hear what growth has looked like for you lately.