I hate when I fail as a Mom. When BigBrother gets so tired or is in so much pain from teething that he can’t be soothed, I feel worthless. Of course, it just so happened to happen today when we were visiting J’s side of the family. The first time I met said side of the family. And we had to leave early because BigBrother was exhausted and his teeth were absolutely killing him. (Of course my almost-seventeen month old would cut his two year molars.) So now I’m sure everyone was thinking that it’s painfully obvious why I placed Munchkin: I can’t even soothe my own child.

I hate this feeling.

Her words catch me off guard, for sure. For good. And for … not so good.

D was in the shower. Munchkin was hanging out with me. She was trying to put on her shoes and had them on the wrong feet. I switched them and put them on to the “almost on but not quite” part, telling her that she could finish. She asked me to help her, I said she was doing such a good job and she could finish it. We went back and forth for awhile, the Munchkin stating that she couldn’t and that I needed to help her, and me reassuring her that she was doing an awesome job and could finish it just fine. Eventually, she gave me a zinger.

“Maybe my own Mommy will help me.”

I left the room in tears.

I left the room in tears and pouted in my bedroom for about a half hour.

It took TheHusbandMan reminding me that she probably didn’t say it with malice to get me to come out of the bedroom and eat some lunch. He’s right. She was probably just clarifying, like we do on blogs and forums, so that I didn’t confuse her Mommy-statement with myself. She didn’t say it with any tone inflection. The “Own” of the statement wasn’t said with pointed nastiness. It was just normal Munchkin-tone, in her normal maybe-statement talk. (If you tell her she can’t do something or that you’re out of something, she’ll say, “Well, maybe we still have some macaroni left,” or whatever you’re talking about.)

But it hurt.

And someday, it will be said with malice. To either D OR me.

“My REAL Mom doesn’t do it that way.” “My OWN Mommy isn’t mean.”

And I’m sure I’ll pout. And I’m sure I’ll cry. And I’m sure it will take some logic speak from TheHusbandMan to get me to slink out of my bedroom and join the rest of the people. And I know that I will just have to chalk it up to the way kids operate: playing one parent off of another. Don’t you remember when your Mom said that you couldn’t do something and you’d either ask your Dad or inform your Mother that “Daddy is NEVER EVER THIS MEAN!” I have to view it like that… for my heart.

I’m bummed today. And quiet. Coming off of the prior high to this is somewhat of a big ole crash. And I have to drive seven hours with three (noisy) children in the middle of the night. It’s so petty. It’s so lame. But it really did hurt.