The girls and I stayed home yesterday, the three of us were a sniffling, watery-eyed, please-hold-me mess. I could write about some of the rosey times– the fireside cuddles, the eskimo kisses and sweet orange-juicy toddler breath, or I could let down my guard. I could tell you, in hushed tones, how very hard it was. I could reveal that I wanted to curl up and sleep, have Sean stroking my brow and that I didn’t want to help anyone go to the bathroom. I might even be able to admit that when Briar woke up from her nap after 20 minutes I wanted to weep and rage, instead I brought her in bed with me and pretended to listen as she read to…