Trust no one.
Before I delve into my sexual predator phobia, I will preface this by acknowledging that I am a self proclaimed (and often reaffirmed) neurotic mess. I worry about most things, some a lot and some just a little, but most things just the same. Many of my hang ups are just that - hang ups. I often need reassurance that my chicken is cooked properly, that Grace's formula hasn't been tampered with while sitting on the shelf at Babies R' Us, and that I've not contracted some death virus via unsanitary shopping cart handle. I realize many of my fears are irrational and have been known to apologize to those I've irritated along my long and phobic road. BUT, I will not now, nor will I ever ask pardon for the protection I provide my daughter - be it sometimes over protective. Hear me now as I say, it is my job to protect this little lady while she cannot protect herself. You want to get in the way or tell me how I'm "smothering" her?
Do me a favor and butt the hell out.
Maybe other people don't watch as much 'Dateline' as I do. But I find it impossible to ignore how many crazies there are out there, even in cute little towns like ours - and I'd rather navigate my days under the "better safe than sorry" mentality any day. As a product of a protective mother myself, I can vouch for this type of supervision. I lived a happy, healthy, safe, sexual predator free childhood. Don't get me wrong. I don't spend my days sheltering Grace from human interaction or independence. As an active adult and young mother, I find it incredibly important to fill our days with interesting activities, promoting healthy activity, intellectual stimulation, and copious amounts of FUN. But as I sat in Kellogg Park this evening, I realized the amount of freedom children are given, many under the age of 5. Children run a muck while there fathers talk shop with their buddies and mothers flip through the pages of the newest issue of Good Housekeeping. Meanwhile, their spawns have found their way to the nearest 'puppy' at the park (in this particular case a Bulldog/something scary mix), and insist on giving him "nose kisses".
Queue the shocked parent as their child comes back with a freshly bitten lip. Idiots.
I like magazines as much as the next Mama and GOD KNOWS we don't get enough quiet time to read them, but is a crowded park really the proper place to let your kids run wild with little to no supervision? Little do these parents know that they should be thankful their child returned at all from this incident. Need I remind you ladies that Mr. Ted Bundy once lured innocent children away using just this tactic?
I know, I know, I'm paranoid. At least I admit it.
|safe and sound :)|
For now, no doggies and no strangers - at least not with out this Guard Momma waiting in the wings.