We all know by now that motherhood is not all flowers and hearts; that is, if you've been reading my blog religiously. Or you got a terrible two. Or a soiled white trousers from your babe's poop. There are mayhem and mishaps. But it's still a happy ending. After all, I got a girl. Sweet and innocent. Someone who will open her elegant abode's fancy door for the gracefully aging me and her old gray-haired Tatay. The lady who will become a boss, a wife and a mom, too. She will take good care of her children like what I did for her. Bliss, isn't it?
Earlier tonight, after dinner and some cleaning-up in the kitchen, I let her watch TV while I browse my phone to rest. I was not looking at what she was watching but I know it's Disney Channel's Just for Laughs, a gag show. I heard her cute chuckles. I found it adorable and looked at her. Then she got shy. She said in a wimpy way, "boys like sexy dede". Eff. Really. I'm trying my best to be a woman of God but I said a giant eff to myself. I felt my face blushed crimson red. I wanted to bawl out like a pig in a slaughter house.
I know she didn't mean a thing by that. She's 4 years old.
But momma! Her statement was not as lame as saying, "boys are laughing at her", which can be really vague. This one's a shocker. This one's something that even a naive 15-year-old won't dare to say. And for me, it was a reality. One day, she will be that naive 15-year-old. I'm getting senseless. Okay, I didn't get to see the video she chuckled on because I was too focused on what she said. You know what I did?
I ignored her.
I know she won't remember that. And besides, whenever she sees me and her pop kissing or hugging each other, she'll say "you marry, Tatay?" She thinks life is straight from a fairytale that you can marry the boy you just met. Like Tangled. She is that innocent.
So why was I so scared all of a sudden?
I'm scared of boys hurting her. I'm scared of boys looking at her like a porn star when she wears shorts, skirts or plunging neckline shirts. I'm scared that she might not get the love she has given. I'm scared that she might experience what I have been through with bad boys. Oh, bad bad boys, please don't come into my precious princess' life.
I have enough arms to shield my baby from bad boys, actually --- her military father. But what can a military father do if he's always away, right? So it all boils down on me. The responsibility of raising a baby girl to become a God-fearing, prayerful and decent woman is in my fat and full-of-lamig shoulders.