Twelve. Twelve. Hours. Of. Sleep.
Can I get a hallelujah and a whoo-frickin-hoo?!
My man is so good to me. I can’t think of ANYTHING he could have done that would have meant as much to me as turning to me as soon as he got home last night, looking me deep in the eye, and saying, “You look exhausted. Why don’t you take a couple of Tylenol PMs and go to bed when Sarah does?”
This is what I did.
My man? He’s the BEST.
Mairsy Dotes 