Sunday Night Fright.
I don't even explain to the husband anymore that I'll be taking a shower and then go straight to bed - it just is.
Don't collect your 200 bucks.
Son#1 (not his usual face, above) cries at the drop of a hat.
My offspring seem to get cranky right before illness strikes.
The week ahead is not for the weak:
Son#1's first meeting with his coach-shrink.
A meeting with the company doctor.
Trying my very, very best to study and remember things.
One day I'll fly away...