Wake to crying baby.
Fume over beeping smoke detector. Complain on Facebook about the smoke detector, because people love reading status updates about that sort of thing.
Return to bed.
Ask dog nicely to move over.
Ask dog less nicely to move over.
Try to manhandle dog off the bed.
Give up and squeeze into the six inches of space between dog and edge of bed.
Quick prayer that the house doesn't catch fire.
Wake to crying baby.
Wake with a start only to realize there are seven minutes before scheduled meeting with running buddy.
Check weather on phone.
Learn it is 23 degrees outside.
Text running buddy with half-assed apology and climb back into six inches of allotted bed-space.
Wake to husband's alarm and promptly go back to sleep, enjoying the extra 8 inches of space afforded by his absense (until the other dog hops up on the bed).
Wake again to sounds of toddler babbles and thuds from the next room. Click video monitor to confirm that thuds are not suggestive of immediate danger; only indicative of toddler's desire to unload the bookshelf of all items within reach.
Remain in bed, deciding to be really good for the rest of the year so that maybe Santa will bring either a bigger mattress smaller dogs or.
Happy noises turn unhappy, wade through 45 discarded books to rescue bouncing toddler from crib.
Turn on channel nine just in time to catch Dinosaur Train and ponder yet again whether Dr Scott, the paleontologist is actually good looking or if it's just his vast knowledge of the Paleolithic era that's intriguing.
Try to remember the last time the baby had a bath.
Fail in that task and decide it's probably time for another bath.
Bathe baby with one hand while wrestling back toddler and deflecting flying bath toys with the other; dry baby; diaper baby; bundle baby into adorable guitar onesie, socks and hat; admire baby; listen and feel as baby simultaneously spits up and poops.
Put on annoyed face.
Discover toddler has climbed into the damp tub, footie pjs and all.
Document toddler fiasco through a series of photos and post to blog; thinking it's funnier than it actually is, chuckling to self all the while.
Serve well-balanced breakfast of honeydew melon and Cheerios to hungry toddler.
Nurse hungry infant while darting around the house straightening things up in an act of pure futility.
Load children and diaper bag into car for 'play date' at the zoo.
Chase toddler around reptile house with the double stroller for 30 minutes while flashing smiles at and exchanging fly-by pleasantries with other play-date moms.
Arrive at home to pass baton -- sorry, care of children -- off to husband. Decide showers are overrated and eat lunch instead.
Leave for work.
Omitting details to comply with HIPPA, suffice to say there is plenty of back pain and balance deficits and general running around.
Leave work for the six mile commute home.
Make tentative plans to run later.
Arrive home, deciding to be really good for the rest of the year so that maybe Santa will bring a helicopter to make the commute run smoother.
Relish in the fact that the husband is capable of cooking a delicious meal and gracefully handling the children while doing so.
Come to the conclusion that whatever Santa brings could never be better than the man who made dinner.
Maybe won't be so 'good' after all, save the big guy a trip ;)
Dump the children at the neighbor's house to attend the wake of a beloved aunt-in-law.
Stand the sort of endless line that we should all be so lucky to have at our own wakes someday (she was loved and will be missed).
Learn through small talk that even the most vaguely known of cuz-in-laws are active blog-readers.
Leave feeling flattered, a little horrified, and extremely grateful for such a warm and welcoming group of in-laws.
Arrive at neighbor's home armed with ice cream (insufficient payment for an evening with a total of four children under five, but don't tell her that).
Home for bedtime.
Call running buddy to cancel for the second time in 24 hours.
No great excuse this time.
Will run tomorrow...right?
Squeeze into tiny space between dogs and husband.
Decide to just be thankful for the warmth the crowd brings to the bed.