It’s our last full day in Dublin.

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There was no post yesterday,

but honestly that tracks because yesterday began exactly how every vacation morning begins for a mom: me washing dishes I did not personally dirty, then drying them, then putting them away. Why? Because I’m the mom. And apparently that job does not take holidays, international or otherwise.

We did, however,

make it to my very aggressively insisted-upon stop at Beanhive Coffee Shop. I love this place. Now, full transparency: I don’t actually love coffee. Not any kind. Not any variation. But there is something deeply joyful about a barista drawing colorful art on top of a frothy cappuccino. This is not unlike my life at home—except Eddie’s barista skills are… less refined.

Once, after an evening argument,

Eddie got very creative and drew the outline of a man’s… you know… on my coffee. It was honestly an impressive attempt. I just couldn’t tell if it was his way of taking responsibility or if he was calling me the appendage, so I never gave him the credit he probably deserved. He really tried that day.

But back to Beanhive.

I was hoping for something fancy—maybe a cityscape, a portrait, something museum-worthy. I got a cat. Which makes sense because I really miss Harley the Bengal. Maicy got an adorable snowman with a message. Guess who got the cityscape? Braley. Of course. It’s like she wears an invisible sign that says, “Treat me best, I’m the baby.” Eddie got a butterfly. Which is ironic because I’m the butterfly person. I briefly considered asking them to redo mine and Maicy’s, but decided against becoming that American.

Breakfast was Irish, obviously.

The little princess is obsessed with “baked beans,” which here are basically pork and beans. Isn’t there a movie where someone dramatically yells “PORK AND BEANS!”? Anyway, she loves them. I love Irish bacon—lean, thin, and basically the filet mignon of breakfast meat. As you may recall, I enjoy meat.

Next up:

we spent two full hours tracking down a lost cell phone.Because that’s who we are as a family. Multiple calls. Sometimes three calls to the same place, just to ensure someone was actually listening. The phone was eventually located. Thank you, Jameson Distillery, for checking. Thank you, Maicy, for calling and calling and calling. I handled the Uber logistics like a true transportation goddess. When the phone was found, we all shrieked. I’m pretty sure someone thanked Jesus and referred to it as a “blessing.”

While waiting for places to open between phone updates,

we wandered back to Brown Thomas. I was supposed to pick out my big Christmas gift from Eddie. But the shopping spirit was not upon me. Instead, Braley left with Dior earrings, because if you travel hours and hours from home, someone should leave with something memorable.

Managing a group is exhausting,

so it was decided I deserved a break from household operations. Enter: the Clontarf Castle Hotel. A place I wanted to stay on my last trip, now upgraded to immediate royal treatment. Food delivered. Dishes done. My usual responsibilities completely erased.

The castle still very much feels like a castle,

and I’ve always thought of myself as queen-adjacent, so it’s a perfect fit. There are photo ops everywhere for the girls. Other than Braley slipping on an extremely clean wooden floor and nearly breaking her neck (but mostly just dying of embarrassment), it’s been delightfully low-key.

We found a fabulous Italian restaurant called Picasso just six minutes away—my favorite meal so far.

And then… the bed.

Mine and Eddie’s bed. Stately. Period. Four posters. Drapes. All the things. And—most importantly—no college girls across the hall. After a bottle of champagne, we thoroughly enjoyed our little slice of royal heaven.

Sorry, Braley and Maicy. I know you’re laughing and slightly traumatized, but even moms enjoy romance. And nothing says romance like a castle that looks suspiciously like something I’ve watched on TV.

Today’s agenda:

actually see the outside of the castle, brave the cold, visit the sea, and—tragically—pack. Eddie has offered up another gift, and if I’m feeling ambitious, I may wander back to Louis or Dior. Otherwise, I’ll be planning a group travel experience here. Because that’s just how my brain works.

Long live the queen.