Since school started last week, life has once again become a series of broken down time increments all centered around one goal - get the kids where they need to be, when they need to be there. Oh, and fit my "stuff" in between. I admit sometimes I think in "I'd rather be...." terms. When picking up dry cleaning, I'd rather be at home having it delivered. When putting one foot in the other at 3:00 p.m., making three different after-school snacks for three different kids, I'd rather be taking a power nap on cool sheets or getting a massage in a room that smells like lavender. You get the idea.

Time increments and rather-be's. Combined with my imagination, what does that create in my mind? Hunger, of course, but also, "a day in the life" which I jot down in one of the few quiet moments I get to myself along with a cold slice of pizza.

5:02 a.m. The writing instructor from my class two days ago gave me very clear directives about how to map out my novel-to-be. Drag myself out of bed; hit the switch on the coffee maker, and log on to my laptop. Grab my chocolate coffee creamer (I won't drink coffee without it) so I can get my fix, and I notice the shrimp for dinner tonight have been marinating in Old Bay Seasoning, kosher salt and olive oil since last night. I hope marinating the crustaceans so long doesn't make them mealy. Can't think about that now. Back to the coffee and the novel. My characters come to life as the caffeine hits my bloodstream.

I'd rather be ... handing the finished novel over to my would-be agent.

7:00 a.m. Who are these well-behaved children masquerading as my offspring? All three of them are sitting at the kitchen table eating scrambled eggs, cinnamon rolls, and glasses of orange juice, peacefully. It could be a television commercial, but I know better. Chaos will

I'd rather be ... in that television commercial.

7:45 a.m. Kindergartner dropped off, third-grader kissed good-bye. Another kindergarten mom asks me, "How come you're more put together with three than I am with just two?" I quickly insert, "Me being put together is just an illusion." I am super quick with self-deprecation. Mainly because I am superstitious and believe that if I accept a complement or dare to agree that I am doing something well, I'm asking to be humbled.

I'd rather be ... writing this down on my laptop before I lose that thought.

8:35 a.m. Baby and I make it to the gas station, although I was certain the CHECK GAGE would get me. I give thanks to Our Lady of the Reserve Tank and head to the gym. I am late for sculpting class. That's okay, I tell myself. I'm still a newbie to this type of exercise so the five minutes I miss is an "easing-into-it" justification. Drop the baby off at the club for kids at the gym. Passing by the racquetball courts, I see a friend playing and pause to talk with her about her son's travel baseball team. Everywhere I go, I hear about this "travel ball." Travel ball this, travel ball that. Yes, my son (and my husband) want to know more, so I'll call you later, I tell my friend. Enjoy your racquetball game, now!

I'd rather be ... watching my son play travel ball and feeling good about himself.

9:00 a.m. The sculpting class instructor has us doing these fluid hip exercises that make me feel like Steve Martin in the "Wild and Crazy Guy" sketch from Saturday Night Live all those years ago. If I can stop obsessing about how silly I look doing this hip-gyrating thing along to Ricky Martin, I just may get some calories burned. Don't think, meat. I tell myself. Just keep moving. I fall asleep when the winding-down-on-the-mat part of class arrives and the instructor switches from Ricky Martin to Andrea Boccelli.

I'd rather be...  sleeping in my own bed, listening to Andrea Bocelli.

11:30 a.m. Baby down for a nap. Take a quick look at my to-do-list and add "call Ruth about Travel Ball" in fine-point, black Sharpie. I try to decide whether to re-heat the pizza or eat it cold as I grab the lopsided pizza box out of the fridge, and decide to wait until hubby gets home for lunch. There's that shrimp again. Hang on, crustaceans, just five and a half hours until you hit the skillet. I'll pair you up nicely with nutty brown rice and Meyer lemon juice, I tell the shrimp. I'm getting tired, but still very proud of myself for getting up at 5:00 a.m. in the name of literary ambition and the beach house I have all but promised my kids should I ever get that agent and lucrative contract. Grab a Vitamin Waterâ„¢ Energy Drink. This is one of those days I'll have to feed my body caffeine all day.

I'd rather be... at that hypothetical beach house, cooking succulent shrimp in a state-of-the-art kitchen with fresh herbs in vases at every corner.

12:10 p.m. Hubby walks through the door. We eat pizza cold, together. Enjoying a meal alone together, watching ESPN. Just the two of us, in our kitchen. Check the net to see where my team, the San Diego Padres stand in the NL West and Wild Card race.

I'd rather be... in First Place in the NL West.

1:00 p.m. Conference call with my publisher and her other mom authors regarding the promotion of her upcoming release, A Book is Born. Exciting stuff I am happy to be a part of. I love talking to other writers. Similar to talking food with a farmer at the open-air market - it gets hold of me and doesn't let go. Just gives me one idea after the other.

I'd rather be... convincing my husband not to go back to work so he can pick up the kids from school and I can write a new column rather than scribbling the idea into my notepad.

2:30 p.m. Pick up kids from school. The baby has multi-colored Goldfish crackers in her stroller tray and apple juice in her sippy cup. I'm still in my gym clothes, but I suppose this is how life is supposed to look. Don't get too complacent, I tell myself. That is how dreams fade away. "C'mon kids, let's go. You have homework and so do I." Back in my a/c set to 75º, I re-heat burritos and chicken strips. Check on the shrimp still marinating. Please, don't become ceviche - or slush. Offer the kids seedless purple grapes as they sit down to the kitchen table to do homework.

I'd rather be ... sleeping. What can I say? I'm entering my mid-day slump and I love sleep, especially in the time increment called a "nap."

5:00 - 6:00 p.m. I've made it to evening without a power nap. I can keep going. Homework is done. Monday Night Football is coming on! Time to put the shrimp to the test. I don't need more caffeine or even that nap because this is the time of day when I'm in The Zone. Whacking garlic cloves, measuring chicken broth, listening with my eyes closed to the sizzle of shrimp hitting a hot skillet, watching droplets of water release from a fresh Romaine leaf before it meets the bleu cheese. I'm infused with creative energy, inner peace, and purpose. The shrimp has held up. It maintains its texture, substance, and flavor despite it's overexposure to lipids and sodium. (Maybe the shrimp took a sculpting class too). Once more at the kitchen table, my hubby and children have gathered to have a meal together. Can I say I'm fortunate, lucky, blessed without the evil spirits listening? Have I tossed salt over my shoulder yet today?

I'd rather be... watching baseball instead of football.

7:30 p.m. Get a bath in during half-time. I beg the kids to please, pretty please don't fill the tub too high and wash your baby sister's hair, too. I'm doing dishes and making my to-do list for tomorrow, and Papa is setting out his work clothes for the next day. We're winding down the day, people. Just comply.

I'd rather be...  done with the dishes.

8:00 p.m. It's done. They're in bed. They may wander back into our room at any minute - one, two, or all three of them, but at this very second they're presumably asleep. Our biggest dilemma now is read or watch the Food Network? I'd love to see an episode on shrimp. Trusty, dependable shrimp. Prawns or Bay, sautéed or grilled, resilient and even sweet. Perfect family food. Now that the shrimp no longer require checking upon, since that caffeine still hasn't worn off, I think maybe I'll go check on the kids. I can't get complacent, now.

I'd rather be... here. Now. In these good spirits.