I woke up on Sunday morning to the ever-so-delightful coppery taste of blood in my mouth, and breathed a sigh of relief to see that there was no blood on my clean pillow sheet (priorities, yo). By the time I made it into my bathroom, I already knew there was swelling in my lower lip. It was the morning that kept on giving, really. Upon inspection, I hypothesized that I had A) bitten my lip in my sleep, or B) my kid had sucker punched me when we were both asleep. In any case, I knew that it was …
