With her fuzzy hair, drowsy eyes, and moon-and-stars pajamas, she looks a little like Winken, Blinken, or Nod. Fighting her fatigue, she rubs furiously at her face with plump hands. Finally succumbing to the nap, she sleeps, round, warm and contented as a freshly baked loaf of bread. Peaceful as it is to watch her slip into dreams, I creep out of the room. An hour and a half, I calculate, is all the time I've got. Free! I'm free! Should I fold clothes? Talk on the phone? Unload the dishwasher? Cranking up the baby monitor, I prowl from one household disaster to another. Where did all these catalogs come from? What is all this crap on the kitchen counter? Oh look, the new TIME. Maybe I'll just have a quick peek at it. Shoving aside a blanket, two teething toys, my handbag, the cordless phone, and an empty Diet Mountain Dew can, I take a seat. Another article on the anthrax scare. Which reminds me that Christmas is coming, and all of this craziness with the mail means I'd better send my family in New Jersey their gifts early. They've been purchased and are hidden upstairs. I should wrap them, I decide, while Olivia sleeps, and ship them tomorrow. Dropping the magazine, I rummage through the junk drawer for a roll of scotch tape. Within minutes, I've got a huge roll of Christmas paper unfurled on the dining room table. Feeling pleased to be so ahead of the game, I wrap and tag the gifts, piling them onto a chair in the living room. Which is dusty. Disgusting, I think. When did I become so lazy? Leaving the tape and wrapping paper in a heap, I hunt down a can of Endust and a rag. My mother, the clean freak, would have to be sedated if she saw the layer of dust that's settled over everything. Funny that I haven't noticed it till now. Even the photograph from our wedding has a thick coating on it. Which reminds me that I still haven't mailed recent pictures of the baby to her grandparents. Better do that now, while it's top of mind. I know I've got enough stamps - is the address book in the kitchen or up by the computer? It must be upstairs, or is it in my book bag? Found it! I sit down at the kitchen table to sort photos. Everyone gets a big smiley shot, and here's a great one of her with Eric - Grandma Dodo will love this one! Here's the one where her hair looks so red, and look, here we all are at the soccer game. Maybe I'll put a copy of the soccer shot in Eric's photo album too. It's in his room somewhere: under his desk, or maybe the bookcase? There it is, right next to Harry Potter. Can't wait for the movie. I wonder if Eric would like to have the Lego version of Hogwarts Castle for Christmas? He's getting so big that it's hard to tell. Probably too big for those jeans, which is why they're tossed on the floor. Olivia's just about outgrown her 3-6 month clothes too. This might be a good time, since she's sleeping, to gather up some of these too-small things and set them aside. I open her closet. There are her little Nikes - it seems like a minute ago that they were too big, and now they appear ridiculously tiny. There's the gorgeous dress that Aunt Erin gave her. Crisp linen and organza embroidered with tiny ladybugs, it looks like it might fit soon. A perfect dress to wear for a portrait... Pictures! I trot back downstairs to the kitchen to finish up the grandparents' letters. Oh there's Zebra. Better put him in the fridge so he'll be cold enough to teethe on later. Nothing in here for dinner...is that pizza from this weekend or last? We need milk. Move, or you'll get stepped on, Champ. Why are you sitting by your dish? You guys want your dinner? Okay, two scoops each, and I can't believe we're almost out of dog food, and this laundry room looks like a cyclone hit it. No wonder I never have anything to wear to work. I need a maid. Or maybe just a long, hot bath. That's what I'll do: while she's sleeping I'll take a bath. And I'll have some hot tea, and read a book. Then I'll be all mellow and relaxed and we'll have a perfect evening. What was that noise? Squealing. Please let that be my imagination. Please let that be feedback in the monitor. I tiptoe to her door, crack it just a bit, and peek in. She's wide awake, with flushed cheeks and damp hair. Spotting me, her face lights up in a huge, toothless, beaming smile. I scoop her up and blow a big raspberry on her tummy. Such a big nap! I say. Mommy got so many things done!