This is how I know I'm a good mom:
(1) Despite the fact that I can't stand cold weather and it was ridiculously cold yesterday, I took all three little ones out to get some fresh air. I brought them in when it appeared that Conor was having difficulty breathing with the wind whipping around his face.
Okay, maybe that doesn't make me a good mom. That probably just constitutes adequate parenting. And now that I'm rereading this, it actually sounds slightly abusive to take them out in the cold. So forget about this one. Let's move on to why I KNOW for real that I'm a good mom:
(2) Zachary TOLD me I was a good mom yesterday. I had gone to the grocery store with him, and he wanted to ride in one of the germ-infested truck-shaped carts. There weren't any in front of the store, but we found one a mile away in one of the cart-return stalls. It was all the way at the end of the stall, buried behind a hundred other carts. One by one, I moved all of the other carts out of the way, until we got to that damned truck cart, then we walked the mile to the store in the freezing cold. And snow. Uphill.
Then this conversation ensued:
Me: I'm a good mom.
Me: Say it!
Zachary: You're a good mom.
See? Out of the mouths of babes...