Mother of the year I am not

It's official, I'm the worst mother in the world. I missed Mason's very first t-ball game. Monday nights are always practice night, and since Matt's at a business conference in Nashville, my dad took Mason to practice in his practice clothes. Well, my mom calls me about 15 minutes after practice started to tell me that it was actually their first game and Mason is the only kid there not in his uniform. It wasn't marked as a game on their schedule and I somehow managed to miss the fact that it's all games from here on out. So I sent my child not in uniform and missed the first game. Crap mom of the year, if not the century. My mom offered to come stay with the twins, who were already in bed, so I could catch the end of the game. But by the time she got here and I got to the field, the game would have been about over, so she went to the field and helped my dad cheer Mason on. Thank God for grandparents. Mason couldn't have cared less that he was uniform-less and parent-less, but I'm heartbroken that we missed it and feel like the worst slacker mom in the universe. But that's the joy of mom-guilt. Mason doesn't care at all, but I'll feel bad about this for the rest of my life.
Not only did I miss my childs' first-ever baseball game, I let Will fall off the couch this morning. He and Hays were drinking their bottles on the sofa this morning before nap and I went to put Hays in his crib. Will was on the sofa with pillows next to him and I didn't worry because he's done that a million times and never tried to roll over before. But there is, of course, a first time for everything. So as I'm putting Hays in his crib I hear a loud THUNK followed by "Waaaahhh" and Will's on the floor. He wasn't hurt, just mad, but I figure that effectively knocks me out of the running for mother of the year. What can I say, I'm batting 1000 today. Oh no, batting- here comes the t-ball guilt again.