5:30 A.M. Last night I set the alarm clock half an hour early so I could wake up before my husband does and stare at him while he sleeps. One of the kids was crying, but I shut the door. My husand looked so peaceful. Vital and peaceful. I love him.

6:15 A.M. After whipping up an omlette aux fines herbes and squeezing the oranges for his juice, I wake up my husband with the customary morning blowjob. Torrid. From what I can make out through the door, the kids have realized that they're going to have to cook their own breakfast again. I hope they also realize that if they make a mess, they're going to have to clean it up. This mommy business is rough, demanding stuff. The husband finishes his breakfast and takes me from behind.

7:00 A.M. While bathing the husband I notice a small mole on his back. Worry for a second that it might be cancerous. Weep. Wonder how I'll go on without him. Huge crash of dishes from the kitchen snaps me out of it. Continue scrubbing husband; those little brats better have that floor spotless by the time I get out there.

8:00 A.M. The hardest part of the day; I send the husband to his office. As soon as the door shuts, four faces look up at me, expecting - what, comfort? Caring? I flip on the TV and doodle variations of my first name and my husband's last name on a notepad.

Ayelet Waldman Background Reading: