6, Five, 4, Three, Two, 1.

Some days I don't believe it.  I have a 6, a 4 and a 1 year old. 

How did that happen?  Well, o.k. I know HOW it happened and have had to semi-explain it to the six year old...which was a really awkward night time conversation that somehow involved talk of an apple, a tree, dirt and sunshine...don't ask.  And of COURSE it happened on a night when Daddy was working nights.  Yep, I get all the good ones.

But back to the point.  I am a mother of 3 young kids and some days still can't believe that these amazing, intelligent, hilarious, inquisitive, irritating and gorgeous creatures are something that I have anything to do with.  Well, alright the intelligent and gorgeous I believe, the rest they get from their Dad.

I am completely in love with my children and would squish them and cover them with kisses all day, in a very healthy, non psychiatrist visit inducing sort of of way.  Having to witness Mommy rock it out to Just Dance 4 on the Wii...well that may be their breaking point. 

There aren't many I know these days who are not already a parent (or thinking of becoming one), but to try to explain the feeling...it is like your heart is living outside of your body.  It doesn't belong to you anymore and it is somehow both more fragile and stronger than you ever thought it could be.

You feel their victories and their hardships more strongly than they do.  Maybe that's why there are so many crazed parents in the rinks or off stage...no wait, those are just some crazAY bitches.  Dance Moms anyone?  Good Lord I fear putting Maddie into a dance company because of them.  Mostly because I may end up going to prison should one get all up in mah bidness.  Watch yoself!

I want to protect Madison from the little punk who punches her in the arm in the school yard...repeatedly.  I want to teach her that she is amazing and although I would never teach her that hitting someone is an o.k. thing to go out and do, I have also told her that should someone, anyone, hit her or physically hurt her, after exhausting all other avenues (telling them off in a 6 year old sort of way), telling a teacher, removing herself from the situation...SLUG THAT SUCKER AND MAKE 'EM REMEMBER IT!  Damn right.  Sorry, but if I should one day get a call from the principal because Madison just decked a kid that has been tormenting her and her friends since the beginning of school, after repeatedly telling them to stop and the above mentioned solutions...Momma got your back baby girl!

Having said that, she has the kindest little heart and would never do it.  Just want her to understand that things like that are never o.k. and that I don't care WHO they are (Mommy or Daddy included), taking a hit, although fantastic on the soccer field, is not something she should ever have to put up with.  She needs to know that now, before she heads out into the real world, so hopefully she never has to learn how to truly take one...and cover it up.

Ya, I wasn't sure where this post was going when I started it to be quite honest, but there it is.  This one's for the girls I guess.  (Sorry Brayden and Ewan, Mommy will write another post later about teaching you to lean into it or roll them off your shoulder.)

It terrifies me to think about how different it is raising a girl.  You have to prepare them for so many more dangers out there.  Not just the obvious ones and stranger danger...you have to create a girl so confident, that nothing anyone can ever do will put a dent in her armour.  Including her so called friends.  We all went through it and I honestly have no idea how to protect Maddie from it, so suggestions are welcomed.  Girls are horrible to each other at certain ages and it leaves scars.  But, scars are testaments to battles fought and survived.  Some even come with some pretty fun stories.

But physical scars?  Put there at someone else's hand?  Lord help the man (or woman, I don't judge) who ever tries to do that to my girl.  I've seen it happen before.  I've stood on a doorstep praying that "he" didn't answer the door in fear of what I may do should I see his face.  Funny how violent this post is making me sound.  Anyone who truly knows me knows that my heart is made of mush (not white mush Andrea)...but when Mama Bull comes around, those horns are the least of your worries.

So ya, being a Mom to 3 amazing kids who are so incredibly different poses some challenges.  You want to treat them all equally, treat them all the same.  But how can you?  If they are so different, then your approach to how you raise them has to be too. 

And hey speaking of too...look what time it is.  Once again it is just after 2a.m. and I have to get up for work in a few hours.  (Slick segue...I AM in radio after all.)

So good night my loyal followers (all 6 of you).  Guess we'll figure this parenting thing out together. 

Word.