Rulers of The World.

Four girls is a daunting prospect.

Women in general are completely daunting,

and heck:

I am a woman.

Take mornings: the simple act of transition from half-clothed neanderthals in a 50/50 combination of pajamas and dress-up costumes with cotton candy hair shooting in ninety different directions to properly assembled, brushed/combed/fed little ladies is enough to call it a day by 9:00am. The project of unraveling tangled locks which summons shrieks even the most maniacal cat cannot muster sends me running for the hills some mornings. Four women cleaned, primped, polished, and ready to head out the door daily by 8:30am? Heaven, send some angels.

And all this talk is simply of the exterior.

I haven't even scratched the surface of the 

most

frightening

intimidating

exciting

inner

aspects

of 

what

they 

are 

really capable of.

The utterly incomprehensible power of it all.

Being a girl.

Being a woman.

As their teacher, this is the aspect I stew on most. 

Most often, my motherly actions are geared with this simple and overarching goal in mind: 

help them understand their power. 

This February, the month of love and celebration,

 I have decided I want to record my thoughts on being a woman, 

and most importantly: a mother to little women.

Something I love.

I can't promise anything particularly profound, but stay tuned!