Labor of love is kind of a tired phrase, isn’t it? I’m guilty of doing that thing where you use incredibly descriptive words to assign more importance and depth to a thing, sometimes more for my own benefit than for those that I am talking to. Maybe I put the girls off to finish drafting copy, or I bag going to the gym or getting my hair done in order to do something else. The guilt will gnaw at me so I construct a scenario where what I have done was worth the things I sacrificed. I’m getting smarter. I am saying no more, making myself acknowledge when something is getting more time, energy or, yes, love. Yet life and work continue and every…