Mom of the Year

I am not the Mom of the Year and today proves it. By 8 am my son had fallen off a kitchen table chair and his face met the one (and only) piece of metal that sticks out of my dress form. Blood was oozing out of a scrape that started at his temple and ended at his chin. I had to run to my neighbor's house just to get a spare pair of hands so I could clean him up and calm him down. Have I mentioned before that we call him "Stuntman"?
By 11 am he and the little girl I watch had started bickering because she tried to take a toy away from him. He bit her. Hard. So hard that all I could think was that her mom will never ever let her come to my house again. So hard that her little arm swelled up and had 8 very distinguished tooth prints on it.
By 2 pm my 4 year old daughter had talked and whined so much all I wanted was for my amazing husband to come home. And he did shortly after I wished for it. Thank goodness because otherwise I could not guarantee said daughter would make it through the day alive. (Figuratively only. She is my first born and my most trying).
By 5 pm I should have had dinner started. I gave Mr. Amazing (aka husband) sad puppy dog eyes and he sent me off to the bedroom. For one whole hour. And here's what I did: I tuned out the fussing and crying from downstairs, I looked at junk on the internet, I downloaded some new IM software for my Blackberry, and I napped.
And when I came back downstairs I was smiling. Hey, the day was nearly over and maybe I can be Mom of the Year tomorrow.