One night recently, I went to bed crying — honest-to-goodness crying — that our house was such a mess. I'm pregnant, and that's what I do. I was truly feeling so overwhelmed by our inability to finish the sorting we'd started, my frustration with the chaos surrounding me, and the impossibility that we'd get everything done before the baby comes.
I woke up in the morning and left the boys sleeping in bed. I crept downstairs to find this:
And this:
When Steve got up later, I asked him how long he had stayed up working on it. Till 6 a.m., he told me.
That, my friends, is love.
Posts
