I hover over my youngest child. I am embarrassed to admit this. I don't like that I do this. But it is what it is. She senses me doing this and it makes her feel inferior. Incapable. This is certainly not my intention. It is a catch 22.

I want to protect her. Defend her. My baby. But I really never know where I should stop and she should begin. It is a gray zone. I relate to Marlin in Finding Nemo. (Except for the loosing my entire family to the big ugly predator fish and all...). My youngest child is my Nemo. The one with the "lucky fin". (My perception).

The bizarre thing of it is that she is so capable of handling it all herself. She is a tough cookie in many ways. She has confronted every schoolyard bully. She has protected every underdog. She is fearless.

At least on the outside.

But I see.

And God sees even more. ("people look on the outside of the person but the Lord looks at the heart" -- yet again that favorite verse...)

It seems my girl baby's path is far more treacherous than my man child's. There are many hidden dangers, sharp edges and steep drops in the path of the woman. The worst seems to come from woman's inhumanities to women. Girls can really suck. And now she is at that place where the boys she has befriended are beginning to notice that she is a girl. The final betrayal. Every so often I see something happen that hurts her again. Gets through the armor. And the armor gets thicker, stronger. I'm watching it close up around her like on Stargate. What's a parent to do? A part of me wants her to have that armor so she can make it out there in the real world -- but a bigger part of me wants to protect that fragile heart so its beauty can be seen.

Last week she was sick with the flu. She dreamed every morning of predators coming after her to devour or kill her (sharks, dinosaurs and murderers with knives). In every dream, we (her family) didn't realize the danger. They killed us all first -- in every dream -- leaving her alone for fight or flight. Scary stuff for a 10 year old.

She cried for 2 hours on Sunday night, knowing she had to go back to school on Monday. She is an elected student officer , and has been battling with a student council advisor (teacher) who is pregnant, impatient and just plain mean. We had a conference during which I used the terms "cover your ass" and " raving bitch from hell" -- (It didn't go so well ...) Within 30 minutes of my leaving the campus, the mean pregnant lady took out our conference on my 10 year old. Again.

Later she'd tell me, "don't worry Mom. I didn't cry in front of her. I cried later."

So did I.

I don't know what will come of this -- but I know my daughter is stronger than most people I know. I think you have to be to be a female in any culture.

Message in a bottle again: please pray for her (and the mean pregnant teacher). I'm working on forgiveness right now, then I'm moving on to wisdom. I really don't know what to do about the teacher. I can tell you I'm not thinking many happy festive Christmas thoughts about her at this moment. It's probably not the best place from which to make a plan.

Right now I want to make it easier for my daughter, and I just can't. It's not in my control. I might win the battle with this teacher, but she will always exist---The mean pregnant lady who hated my kid. She's not the first and she won't be the last. Was it this hard for Mary watching Jesus grow up? Part of me says (and really believes) that no, Jesus was a boy.

I wonder if it's so painful to see my daughter's struggles because they remind me of my own. I wonder if all mothers experience this with their girls. Maybe in her I sometimes get a glimpse of my long lost inner child. Maybe I don't want her to lose hers.

Finally, as left field as this last statement is about to sound, I see this topic connecting to Mollie Bean's recent body image blogs. (connect via Beth's Blog link on right -- Genesis will help me get my blogging act together, now that she has her Master's degree and all...) Mollie's female image is caught up in body shape issues, but I think it manifests itself in many ways. We wear lots of types of armor. "Lord, help us take it off."

More later -- thanks for the prayers.