On a good day...

Someone wakes up and everyone else is okay with that.  

Mommy gets coffee.  Or chocolate milk.

Daytime feedings are predictable, occurring somewhere around 9 am, 12 pm, 3 pm and 6 pm.  And mommy remembers to administer Lincoln's acid reflux meds during 3 of those feedings.  

Lincoln is allowed plenty of time to lie on a blanket, vigorously throw his limbs about and bat at his toys.  

We see Liz.

Neither one of us needs to change our clothing due to spit up or poop disasters.

We go on one single outing.  Said single outing includes more walking than driving.  Also includes something fun for Lincoln, such as a swarm of little kids to stare unabashedly at, a large tank full of brightly colored, darting fish, a place to sit and read books, and/or trees filled with loud birds.  

Grandma or Grandpa calls.  

Mommy takes the time to do her hair and doesn't feel guilty about it.

While driving in the car, mommy remembers that a baby with developing brain cells is in the back seat, and adjusts her music choices accordingly.  

At some point, a candle is lit.

We read books on the floor.  

Someone pays mommy a compliment about her baby.  Or a small child tugs on her parent's shirt, points and says, "Look at the baby!"  

Lincoln laughs.

Daddy sends a couple texts throughout the day.  And calls during his lunch break.    

Lincoln takes two substantial naps.  At least one in the swing.  

Mommy remembers to talk.  "Now we are putting your pants on!"  "This rattle is orange."  "Want to go for a ride in the white car?" 

Dishes are done, laundry is folded and roomba does his thing.

When the man of the house comes home, he gets plenty of (fussy-free) time to play with his son.  

We remember to say a blessing over dinner.

Mommy and daddy are nice to each other while baby screams.

Then mommy tries to switch gears and be a wife.  Until daddy burps and gets a spit up cloth shoved in his face.