I am Mother, hear me roar!

They say that in times of duress, a mother can draw on reserves of superhuman strength to protect her children. I think most mothers believe this. Because love is powerful.

When you find that perfect man, you love him. You love every fibre of his being with every fibre of yours. To you, he is perfect. But when the two of you decide to make a child together, that child is a part of you. The love is fierce, and visceral. It is shocking in its intensity.

I have tried to explain this to my own darling Hubby a number of times. I know, and have always known, that if anyone harmed my husband, I would kill them. Of course I would. And then we had children. And I know with utmost certainty, that if anyone harmed my children, I could kill them. I may have said this a dozen times since the birth of our son, but I'm still not sure I understand the difference there. But something, somewhere behind my solar plexus knows what I mean.

On a day-to-day level, protecting your kids is - thankfully - rather more mundane. It's making sure their feet are dry and their chests and throats are warm. It's kissing fingers better, and scolding the "silly" doors that have caused pain. It's letting your kids know that you, for now, always have the answer.

I think that parents need to be a source of constant security for their children. Of strength and courage. All too soon they will learn that we are people too, but for now we are parents, a higher breed. An infallible species. This is why my kids do not know that I'm terrified of the very milk that I pour into their bottles at night. They don't know that I'm scared too when Daddy's not home yet on his motorbike. And why I'll never let them know that I have gone almost a year too afraid to use a set of downward-moving escalators.

Having broken my teeth falling down the stairs, I'm terrified of escalators. For years I could manage them if I waited until the third step had passed (I don't know why) but I've gotten worse and worse to the point that it's not worth it. The fear of falling is the thing most likely to make me fall and so I've given up.

Until this weekend. When Little Man and I were out shopping alone. With no buggy, we had no legitimate reason to take up space in the elevators. And of course, being the adventurous child that he is, when he saw the escalators, he made a beeline for them. Excited, happy. Exactly as he should be. I took a breath, held his little hand and said "Yay! Escalators" and we hopped straight on and went downstairs not just once, but twice.

A small victory, but it was mine. My happy, courageous boy knows nothing of what we achieved, and I hope he never will. I also hope, fervently, that this is the biggest test of the powers of a Mammy over the powers of a mere Aisling. But still, I know that for my Little Man and Little Lady, there is nothing I wouldn't do, nothing I couldn't do.

You might say it was one small step for a Mam, one giant leap for my peace of mind.