Here's the thing: Sometimes the badass rises up all on it's own. I see stuff like this stupid T-shirt from JC Penny (not the one you may have heard all about last week, but this one's just as bad) and it just springs forth like Athena from the head of Zeus. (Can you tell we've been reading some Percy and the Olympians in my house lately?
But you know what squashes the badass like a pea under a 300 lb princess? Tears. Specifically, little girl tears. More specifically, *my* little girl's tears. In the face of that, I've got nothing. No badass. No snark. No force-to-be-reckoned with. Nothing. I crumble. I waffle. I fold like a crappy tent or a really good map. In the moment when I most need to model my badass self for my girl, I'm not doing it.
And it pisses me the hell off.
She doesn't need loving, huggy, kum ba ya Mama. She needs "get your ass through that door and don't let those feelings get in your way" Mama.
Um...has anyone seen that one? That kickass Mama? 'Cause I'm sure she's around here someplace...