Margaritaville

We’ve had a rough night: Juliette and I were playing and she tripped over my arm and landed flat on her face. Picture this: bloody nose, screaming toddler, wakes the baby, screaming baby, stressed out dog, guilt-ridden mother on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Now, Greg is home, Juliette is asleep, Cosette is in between feedings, and I am having a margarita. Things are much better.