6.20: Sprint down the hall to push the bottle into the baby's mouth before she wakes up completely, as opposed to howling in her sleep.
6.23: Resign myself to the fact that I must get fitter. Baby now standing up in cot in wide-awake howling mode.
6.50: Sit feeding Weetabix into baby while we sing Itsy Bitsy Spider for the 15th time. Decide that the dawn may well be the loveliest time of the day, but you can stuff it!
7.30: Have lit the fire, put out the bin, made the lunches and hoovered four rooms. Wonder what I will do until the rest of the house wakes up. Consider mowing the lawn, but am afraid that the neighbours will either complain or think I'm a bit driven. Settle for taking down the curtains in the kitchen instead.
8.20: Finally drag Sean growling from bed. Baby has just thrown toilet roll in toilet and is now attempting to retrieve it with the aid of a toothbrush. Sean wanders in and takes the toothbrush, and Rory bellows that it's poisoned with poo. All hell breaks loose and baby replaces toilet roll with Sean's football socks.
9.19: Everyone finally in the car for the 250-metre drive to school. Keys refuse to appear and Sean announces he needs £10 for the next set of swimming lessons or he won't be allowed on the bus. He absolutely definitely gave me a note weeks ago. Not!
11.00: Try in vain to remove the mud-stains from Rory's tracksuit with one hand. (Stains caused by falling in a puddle on the walk to school. Keys since appeared - you guessed, in the toilet.) Restraining baby from dipping her feet in the sink with the other. Decide that idiot who recommended water play for toddlers must have been childless.
1.05: Rory has a new sentence, "Why should I?", to add to "You stupid eejit" and "I see your boobies" in the quest for Most Insulting Sentence. Have convinced him that "You're a little dote" is a terrible thing to say, in the hope that he'll use it with relish.
2.20: Hand out packets of Chipsticks all round and relax in the knowledge that Barney will coo and chuckle his way into my children's hearts for the next while. Use this time to chuck their uneaten dinner in the bin. Reconsider and eat it myself. Follow up with another packet of Chipsticks.
3.20: Sean is jubilant. Swimming instructor moved him up a group. Reason: he was too much of a messer in the old group. Can he take up karate? He's thinking of letting his hair grow long like Ronan Keating's. Dream on, darling.
7.20: Have cooked tea, driven eight miles to swimming lessons, supervised homework and read The Enormous Turnip four times. Husband promised faithfully he would be home in time to mow the lawn and allow me quality time with Coronation Street. One phone call and I'm spending time with the lawnmower and weighing up the benefits of a young lover who couldn't bear to be separated from me for longer than a few hours. Dream on, mother.
9.02: Husband still ensconced at work - maybe it's he who has the young lover. Decide fair play to him if he can muster up the interest and energy. I'll settle for the electric blanket and the flannelette passion-killer PJs. Again!
