Maa-maaa! My two-year-old daughter, Alex, called from her crib. I bounded up the stairs, excited to have the whole day to play with her. I was now, officially, a stay-at-home mom. Lucky enough to have the option, I’d made a tough decision and quit my job as a registered nurse.

“Ready for some fun?” I picked up Alex and gave her a tight squeeze, grateful to finally have the time to conquer all the “mommy-and-me” projects I’d collected from parenting magazines I had been browsing of late. I could never get to them on weekends, and I was ready to catch up.

Alex and I would make animal masks out of paper plates in the morning and homemade Play-Doh in the afternoon. For lunch, I’d use cookie cutters to make edible figurines out of American cheese slices. After her nap, we’d make gift wrap using Alex’s handprints. My life could finally be full of the magical moments.

While singing nursery rhymes, I poured pancake batter into heart-shaped molds, a breakfast that literally showed my love.

As I handed Alex her plate, I took a deep breath of satisfaction; she looked so sweet in her new dress and matching hair bow. The day was ours to enjoy. I turned my back for only a second and was shocked to turn back around to find Alex covered in syrup.

I’d imagined pushing my princess through the grocery store in her new outfit, while white-haired ladies nodded approvingly over their shopping carts. — Beliefnet.com