I'm not sure, but I think I might qualify as a super-mom. Once in a while. I mean, I didn't have either one of my kids in "reading for babies" or "baby gym" programs, or anything, but every now and then I find a boon of bonding time in the strangest places.
In the large stack of evidence against my being a super-mom, I live for bedtime. The kid's bedtime. About 3 pm I start counting the minutes. Unplanned deviations from the expectation that bedtime is 8 pm and I will then be "off duty" do not play well in my reality. But if somebody wakes up from a nightmare, or with a nosebleed, or just because, I do alright.
Today the Princess went down for a "nap" at 4:30. She went down HARD. Full nasal whistling, cover tossing, sleep-through-an-earthquake hard. She showed all signs of sleeping straight through 'til morning. I was optimistic enough that I did not wake her for dinner. But the little tyke woke up about 9 pm asking for cartoons and curious about the odd sound outside the house (freezing rain hitting the windows).
She "helped" me fold two loads of laundry, cheerfully helped me put them away, ate a PB&J, and then we went to her room. Just me and her, Brother was asleep in his room, Daddy in ours. Me and the Princess read some books, listened to Beethoven's 9th, and snuggled with two dogs and a cat. We had a good time. Much to my surprise.
Maybe I have a latent mom superpower I didn't know about. Maybe I really am "Supermom." My kids seem to think so. At any rate, the Princess is back to somnolent nasal whistling after feeling really special for a couple of hours. Not a bad return on my investment. My kids might need therapy, but I hope to give their therapist cause to tell them they didn't really have it all that bad.