About three weeks into my stay-at-home-mom gig, my 4-year-old had something she needed to get off her chest:
    "Mommy, I’m born," she said, while taking turns with her 1-year-old sister on their mini-slide in my home office.
    "Mmm hmm," I said, without looking up from my computer. How cute, I thought. She’s discovered a new word.
    "Your birthday is in November. You want Mommy to tell you again about the day you were born? You were in my belly, and it started to hurt ... "
    "No, Mommy!" she interrupted. "I’m not talking about that. I’m BORN! I wanna do something. What can I do?"
    "Ohhh! You mean you’re bored?"
    What my little social butterfly probably wanted to say was, "You mean I gave up preschool and all my friends for this?"
    In the four months since I’ve quit my job to become a stay-at-home mom and CEO — chief entertainment officer — I guess I haven’t been very entertaining.
    First of all, I’m too pooped to party by the time I have bathed a stinky baby, and then the 4-year-old because, while she may get to the bathroom on time, she might not make it to the actual toilet; mopped the bathroom floor; tossed the wet clothes into the washer; urged the 4-year-old along as she dove off the couch and put her clothes on while lying on the floor; fed the two girls and then cleared away the breakfast dishes and loaded the dishwasher.
    And that’s all before 9 in the morning. Actually keeping them cheerfully occupied for the entire day that follows is like trying to find the answer to world peace.
    The baby is content for a while if she is nestled in her Winnie the Pooh recliner with some graham crackers in her hand and The Backyardigans on the tube. But mostly, she just wants to be held.
    My 4-year-old happily spends time watching TV, doing "homework" on her Barbie laptop or playing games on the PBS Kids Web site. But throughout the day, she asks when it’s time to pick up her older sister from school. Because, she says, "I wanna play with someone who’s not a baby."
    And it doesn’t help that I’m an e-mail addict. If I’m not sending a bunch of it, I’m watching my inbox like a hawk — which means I’m never far from my computer. I’m even more attached to my laptop if the editors I work for, when I can squeeze it in, want my stories, oh, you know, on time.
    But no matter what, keeping my munchkins happy is a top priority. When I was working full time, a movie or a birthday party kept a smile on their faces because that’s all we had time for on the weekends or after work.
    Now that we’re around each other all day, I take it for granted that I can do fun stuff with the kids anytime. Little did I know that by "anytime" they mean "whenever our little eyes are open — we’ll even pry yours open to let you know that we mean business."
    They’ve also let it be known that: 1) Work, schmerk, they need me NOW! 2) Staying cooped up in the house is not an option; and 3) Much to my surprise, there’s only so much of me they can take.
    Which meant that I needed to kick my fun-finding skills into high gear. But first, I had to let go of the laptop.
    I got the e-mail monkey off my back by checking it just twice a day, and not when the kids are awake. Even if I’m feverishly finishing up a story, I take several breaks, pump up the iTunes and we dance.
    We also do more art projects at home. Well, actually, THEY do more art projects at home. The kindergartner and 4-year-old go ga-ga over glue stick, paper and markers while I cook dinner and try to entertain the baby — all while pitching in if they need help with their mini-masterpieces.
    And who knew laundry could be fun? If, by chance, I do find time to do some, my little helpers join right in. They love folding the clean towels and sheets into squares, so I let ’em, even if their squares are more like ovals. And they beg me to have more "sock-matching parties." I give them a nickel for every matching pair they find and fold, so it’s a win-win.
    Most fun of all, we put more field trips in our day. Our leaving-the-house routine is a hassle, but I’ve gotten used to: finding something decent — and preferably unwrinkled — for the girls to wear; doing their hair; packing a bag with snacks, drinks, diapers and wipes; and making sure all the little people have gone to the potty before we hit the road.
    I’ve learned they can get the biggest kick out of the littlest adventure, even if it’s just going to the bank, picking up their older brother from driver’s ed class, or shopping for a new fridge at Home Depot. Even the more adult-oriented tasks actually make sense for us to tackle as a unit. I mean, sure, I might have preferred to shop for a new refrigerator without the girls because I needed quiet time to ask the salesman the difference between CleanSteel and stainless steel without a little person telling me that she needed a snack. But I figured the kids would be opening and closing the darn fridge more than I would, so they might as well test it out, too.
    And the best part about our field trips? We usually meet new friends, whom we invite to our favorite park to play. Sure, I can romp right along with them at the playground, but I concede that I am no match for a playmate who’s their own size.