by Nadiya Waterloo

Created on: January 09, 2009

I realized I was in trouble when I could sympathize with Homer Simpson throttling his son, Bart.

When I was laid off towards the end of my third pregnancy, my husband and I decided it was a good time for me to become a stay at home mother. I was looking forward to the extra time with my children. Secretly I envisioned days of fun craft projects and fresh baked cookies waiting for my husband when he returned home from work. I was picturing myself as the modern day equivalent of Donna Reed.

After years of managing an entire department I thought taking care of my sons would be a piece of cake. All I had to do was keep them busy. I researched projects for kids online and organized several activity kits. I had markers, crayons, paints, activity books, flash cards, all the makings for days of endless fun with mommy. Looking back I realize how terribly nave I was for a woman of my age.

I decided to establish a daily schedule. After we had our breakfast, I would let my son watch a time tested children's show. While my son was watching television I would catch up on my e-mail. Then we would play a variety of games before moving into an afternoon activity. Of course we would venture outside to play in the backyard, and on really nice days, we would head to the park to feed the ducks and play on the jungle gym.

Or at least this is how I had envisioned it in my head. The first day was a little hectic trying to adjust our schedules to something resembling how I thought we would be spending our time together. By the third day I was only slightly more successful; I managed to get my youngest son settled down for a whole fifteen minutes. The first week ended with me slightly frustrated, my activity kits still sitting on a shelf and my e-mail untouched and unanswered.

However, I am a firm believer of try, try again and I wasn't about to admit defeat. I was determined to get through a craft project. They say the definition of insanity is doing the same failed thing over and over again expecting a different outcome. I prefer to think I am terminally optimistic with a slight flavoring of denial. Either way, the second week ended with only slightly better results.

By the third week I had a morning go off without a hitch and I thought I was getting the hang of being a stay at home mom. This is the day, I thought, the day we would complete an activity. My heart practically sang I was so excited that everything was finally going as I had pictured.

So as my son watched the television I prepared

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