Mother May I?

I am beyond excited to have children and whether or not they are my own or adopted, it makes no difference. I nurture all of those around me involuntary and I thrilled to do so 100% voluntary to children under my custody. I say ‘under my custody’ instead of ‘children of my own’ for I mentioned previously I am perfectly fine with adoption. I don’t have an ounce of reluctance to caring for and nurturing others so I guess I shouldn’t have said involuntary. I have a motherly nature; it’s my instinct. When I say instinct I think of wild animal mothers like lions, tigers and bears! How they are extremely protective of their offspring and if they feel their young are in danger their instinct is to kill those doing the endangering. I can say I have the instinct to protect others but I cannot say I have the instinct to kill those who are threatening. Really, it wouldn’t make sense for me to want to kill the ‘endangers’ for if it’s my instinct to nurture; I would want to protect and care for the endangering party. I guess that is the difference between me and wild animal mothers.

When I think about raising children, I am in awe of how my parents raised me. I consider myself to be a nice, wonderful girl and I have my parents to thank for that. And though that is arrogant of me to say, I do truly believe I turned out okay. I am almost eighteen years old, a.k.a. an adult, and though my parents will always be there I do in reality have to begin caring for and nurturing myself. I take care of myself well, I guess but some of the things I do I would not do to another person. (No sexual insinuation.) But what I mean is how I treat my body. On the original size Jamba Juice cup there is a quote or as they call it a Jambaism: Do unto your body as you wish it would do unto you. I don’t do that. I compulsively pick at my face and arms almost constantly. My mother has said to me “Would you pick at and scratch those you love?” I understand and agree with comment but I have minimal to zero self control.

Expect for stupid self-help books written by women and men who think they know about children, the common phrase “there isn’t a manual to raising kids” holds true. There is not a so-called manual to help you along step-by-step; unfortunately. Getting back to my parents and their superb job raising me; how they did do it so well? When pondering about my parents, my train of thought wanders to: how I am doing to raise my children? Yes, I will be a good mother or so I am told almost everyday but I did not raise the people around me from birth. I only take care of them part-time. I am so concerned I will accidentally mess up my children permanently and if I do, how do I fix it? I do not want to be the one who is responsible of the couch time they will

Not done like bread in the oven; not finished like a test but rather still in progress.