As a mom, I reserve the right to challenge my kids’ choices and not just take everything at face value. That said, nobody better mess with my kids. I will stand up for them; I will fight for them; I will defend them with my whole being. My desire to defend them comes into play in wanting to protect them from their own inexperience, but also to battle for them against people who are thoughtless, unkind, or downright cruel.
I’ve always been a little bit of a rebel. I don’t like to be told what to do. I like to push boundaries and question things. I’m pretty sure I passed that on to my children, both intentionally and subconsciously. So as they push the boundaries even further, part of me is proud of their fortitude. The other part is less pleased. I thought that we’d teach them to be independent thinkers, and because we (my husband and I) were pretty smart, they’d all agree with us! How silly! Now that I’ve figured out that’s not how it works, and that they will choose their own path (and have been doing so since the day they were born), I’m still ready to back them up. 
from their sex.
Once upon a time there was a little girl, the fourth of six children, born to a pastor and his wife, a stay-at-home mom and church musician turned transcriptionist when her last child went to kindergarten. Stubborn and bright, this little girl excelled at many things: music, art, school work, and even sword drills at Vacation Bible School. She was well loved and cared for, though sometimes misunderstood and found to be exasperating. Though not overt and probably not even intended, there was an air of legalism and pride in the home. 
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