Everything was going well till I was driving my two little ones home. They started fighting - again. I had it. Mommy was pushed over the edge.
They were instructed that once we got home, it was off to bed. No stories, no snuggling, nothing but lights out.
If that wasn't enough, I find hubby stressed out and on the fringe of a asthma attack. Poor sweet man is stressing about his grammy.
It's my turn for lights out. I will drift off to sleep as the asthma machine lulls me into dreamland.
Sweet dreams.
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