
We’re a frisky family. Which basically means I’m married to a man who can’t hold still. It’s not a bad thing, most of the time, because it means that even when I feel like curling up in a ball and wishing it all away, I get dragged out of the house with the family to do something healthy and productive. I’ve told you more times than I can count how hard it is for me to leave Summer behind. I…
>> Read more