Good Mom, Bad Mom

So yesterday I was in a funk. I wasn't dealing with a few things very well, and I needed to snap out of it. So I took the kids to Micheal's to get some things to have an afternoon of crafting. You see, when I feel down or upset, I like to turn into Martha, that makes me happy. I put on my apron, I bake, I craft, I clean, being a "good" Mom makes my life happy again.

So I felt like I was in a good place. I was crafting with the kids, we made a yummilicious lime smoothie, and I had started on dinner, and I even decided to be a fun Mom and eat it outside as a picnic. All was going well. All my worries and cares were gone, and I was imagining a nice evening of us being a happy, loving family.

So I bring every one's dinner out to them, and I go back in to get the drinks. I hear screaming. Full on screaming. I run outside to find Caiden on the floor screaming that he was in pain. I asked what happened and no one answered. I got a little mad. I asked what happened again, and Caiden tried to tell me, but you see, when he cries he talks like an alien, you can't make out two words, so I got a little more mad. So finally he calms down, and I realize he is holding his hand, so I look at it, and it's of course bleeding. I asked him what happened and he explains to me that he fell of his chair and somehow stabbed his hand with his fork!!!

Here comes bad Mom.

Instead of being all sympathetic and trying to help him, I get mad!

I get mad because that kid ALWAYS falls off his chair. SERIOUSLY!!! I'm so not even exaggerating. Ask anyone who has ever ate with this child and they can attest to it. Why does it make me mad, I don't know. But it does! It SOOOOO does!!!

I get mad because when he tries to explain to me what happened he speaks in a foreign language. It really, really irritates me. . . . . like a lot!

I get mad because somehow he STABS HIS HAND WITH HIS FORK!!! What the heck!?!?! Like seriously, who does that!?!

I get mad because now instead of all sitting down to our lovely out-door dinner, I have to go in and clean up his wound, stop the bleeding, and wrap up his hand. And I didn't do it as a loving Mom, I did it as one very irritated Mom. But, I still did it, . . . . .that has to count for something . . . . doesn't it?

So I get him all settled, we come back out, we sit at the table, Jason helps Caiden so he won't mysteriously fall of his chair again, and I blurt out almost in tears, "I'm the worst Mom ever!!!"

So what makes you feel like "the worst Mom ever?"
What do you do to remind yourself that you are, in fact, not the world's worst Mom, and you are actually pretty fabulous?
Has your child ever fallen off his chair and stabbed himself with a fork on the way down?
Do tell, inquiring minds would like to know!!!