Momma Bear...

I just came home from a wonderful dinner with my girlfriends.  A much needed night out for all of us, i must say.  i am stuffed full of good food, good wine, and good conversations.  One such conversation that i had was about the strength of the Momma Bear instinct and how nothing, and i do mean nothing, can stand in its way.  
i have only had a few circumstances in these past three plus years where i have felt my claws coming out- that is to say, where i felt the need so deep inside me to protect my children.  and the most recent had nothing to do with an actual physical harm.  yet the claws were out in full length and force, possibly stronger than ever before.  my precious three-year-old was being picked on by other kids.  teased.  by girls.  and i LOST IT.  my natural reaction (which i luckily did not follow) was to rip their heads off.  it broke my heart into a million pieces to see my daughter deflated by a couple of brats.  the stabbing was more deep than any of the taunts i'd ever received throughout my own life.  but there was little i could do.  i corrected the kids (without decapitating them).  i told my daughter that there was nothing wrong with what she had been doing.  but at three, her ego had been dented.  i saw that.  but, thankfully, at three, it took less than ten minutes and a few jokes to get her back to her naturally happy self again.  
it kills me to think that this is just the beginning, especially with having girls.  girls  can be mean, and catty, and spiteful.  the claws that i had out the other day are nothing compared to the fangs that young females can sprout in a heartbeat.  i don't know how or why this occurs.  i can only guess it revolves around their already fragile esteems.  but my daughter is so strong and confident for the most part.  i want to bottle that up and pour it all over her when these instances occur.  and i want to bottle up and pour arsenic on the girls who are eventually going to try to bring her down.  
i know it's coming, and i know i'll need to let her fight her own battles.  but for now, while she's three, and will still climb into my lap in the midst of her battle, i will stand strong and tall.  with my momma grizzly arms wrapped tightly around her and my red eyes glaring down the perpetrators involved.  hell may have no fury like a scorned woman, but little mean-girls on a playground have no idea what they're dealing with when it comes to the fury of a protective momma bear.