As a mother, I want to protect my daughters. Always. And from everything.
From getting swine flu. From getting bitten by another child in day care. From getting their hearts broken. From mean girls. From devastating blows to their self-confidence and image of self.
As much as I know intellectually that I am not Superwoman, and that even Superwoman can't fend off hormones and teenage angst (not to mention little kids bearing their fangs), I want to be a human shield.
Instead of Superwoman, I know that my best bet will be to arm the girls with the tools and resources, and self confidence, to defend themselves. To make smart choices.
I try to think before I say or act. To put myself in their shoes. To consider how my words and actions will be received and processed by their little minds.
But I am not perfect. I, too, am human. I have a prolific vocabulary of curse words. An all-too-finite amount of patience, hopefully balanced by an infinite amount of love.
I didn't intend to write a melancholy post. I am in a good mood today. But every once in a while I consider the weight of the responsibility I have been given. I am so, so lucky to have my beautiful, healthy children. I refuse to waste this opportunity.