6:30 am: Alarm clock rings. Life signs register on other side of the bed. I ignore the alarm and wish furtively for Toddler to not wake up. Papa leans over and smacks the clock, stopping the radio from blaring alt-pop through the bedroom.

7:16 am: Papa wakes up again and elicits a groan of irritation, as he is late for work. He sits on my back while searching for clothes. I call him a jerk. He moves. I apologize. He tosses the blankets that have been kicked onto the floor in the night, back on the bed in a messy pile. We kiss goodbye.

7:20 am: Toddler awakes. He hunts for a nipple. Starts nursing.

7:48 am: Toddler leaps out of bed and proclaims, "I eat! Make food!" I sleepily beg, "Please go back to sleep." Toddler turns on bedroom light, comes back to bed, pulls the blankets off and says, "Hmmm. Hmmm. Looking for lions."

8:00 am: In the kitchen, I make toast and juice for Toddler. I eat half of the kid's toast. I make more. I let the cat out.

8:30 am: I let Toddler watch the Beatles Yellow Submarine video in hopes of getting another half-hour of sleep.

8:58 am: Toddler comes into bedroom, "Mama! I pour!" Kid has poured juice all over the rug. Get out towels and steam vacuum. Clean. Put TV and VCR in the attic. Realize that I haven't had any caffeine yet.

9:19 am: Make French press coffee. Nurse Toddler. He farts on my lap. I let the cat in.

9:35 am: Pee. Forget to brush teeth. Squint eyes and declare that the tub is clean. Decide not to scrub the tub. Draw a bath. Take Papa's razors out of the bathtub before calling Toddler to come get in.

9:42 am: Find Toddler hiding behind the futon couch licking a bottle of contraband honey. Un-stick the kid from the bottle and put him in tub with a fleet of Devil Duckies and one rubber fish. Get in tub also.

9:52 am: I get out of the bath after Toddler refuses to stop pouring water on my head. Toddler stays in the bath, he calls it the "hot tub". I wish for a real hot tub; one that someone else cleaned.

10:00 am: Blast downtempo electonica ("raver easy listening") through the house. Do five minutes of yoga.

10:05 am: Toddler streaks naked and wet out of the bathroom. We dance around the living room.

10:13 am: "Mama, I like SPACESHIPS!" Toddler declares. "Have you ever been on one?" I ask. "Oh YES!" he replies.

10:22 am: Invent a game of tag that incorporates clothespins, a lemon, pillows, and a feather boa. Run around house. I let the cat out.

10:47 am: Eat bananas and more toast. Declare that juice cannot leave the kitchen. Toddler screams, "Juice in MY ROOM!" Take away juice.

10:54 am: Nurse Toddler. Hear garbage truck coming down the block. Disengage nipple and run barefoot to the street with trash bags-just in time.

11:10 am: Pick up toys and books on living room floor. Throw dirty laundry into the closet. Pick the large objects up off the kitchen floor. I swear to myself that I am going to scrub and mop the kitchen floor today. Remember that it hasn't been mopped since we moved in seven months ago. Put on slippers.

11:37 am: Check email. Check independent news websites. Read about how people all over the country are buying duct tape and plastic sheets to save themselves from an apocalypse. Take note to get new filters for our gasmasks. Take note to stock up on liquor, batteries for my vibrator, and chocolate.

12:14 pm: Toddler comes into the room wearing training pants on his head. He says it is a plane. He asks to make cookies. He lets the cat in.

12:38 pm: Nurse Toddler. He falls asleep on my lap. I put him down in our bed.

1:00 pm: I cook leftovers for lunch and drink a smoothie.

1:55 pm: Meditate.

2:00 pm: Reach enlightenment.

2:15 pm: Toddler awakes and nurses. He farts. I let the cat out.