My friend M. and I have been playing ‘dueling bad mommies’ via e-mail this week. It started when I made some wiseacre crack about how my kids were outside playing with pointy sticks while I was writing; M. fired back with the TRUE story of her daughter (two and a half) bringing her a ’steaming hot cup o’ battery soup’: a plastic mug containing the batteries from the TV remote. Psha, I responded, I can top that! A while back, one of our kids (see, I’m such a bad mom I can’t even remember who it was!) jimmied the battery compartment on one of the toys open and brought it to me asking, ‘What is this stuff?’ The ’stuff’ was leaking battery acid and melted plastic.

M. e-mailed back: ‘Dammit, I think I’m paying too much attention to these kids. You win, for now.’

So I started trying to think about what my Worst Mommy Moment was, and I remembered this: in the first trimester of both pregnancies, I was exhausted. I mean, it was all I could do to stay awake until lunchtime. When I was pregnant with Henry, I would sleep on the floor of my office (formerly a janitor’s closet) between classes; I often showed up to teach with carpet marks on my face. With Charlie, I was able to lay down properly at home, but not until Henry went down for his nap at 1:00 p.m. (yes, I am one of those Schedule Moms, get over it), which was a slog for me.

One day, when I was pregnant enough that Wade and I knew but not enough that anyone else knew, I was so tired that I couldn’t focus. I put Henry in his crib at 12:45 and flopped down on the sofa. We had a house rule about the nap: Henry was to stay in his bed until 2:30. Some days he went right to sleep, but other days he would play for a while and then sleep. But he needed the nap, and I needed the break, so there it was. On this particular day, I went right to sleep. I woke up and heard Henry jabbering, but when I looked at my watch it was only 1:30, so I dozed off again.

I woke again, this time to hear Henry calling, insistently but not frantically, ‘Mama! Maamaa! MAAMAA!’ I looked at my watch and . . .

It was 5:00. Henry had been in his crib for OVER FOUR HOURS.

I went in to get him and he smiled and held his arms up and pointed to all the stuffed animals he had thrown out of the crib during his four hours of confinement. And I would have felt bad about it, but he was perfectly happy and I really needed the nap. Because it’s all about ME, see?

Okay, now go here for the story of one sincerely great mom. But get a tissue first. I guarantee you will need it.