I watched a very scary movie a couple nights back! It has been over a decade since I viewed a flick that had me spooked beyond all reason long after it was finished. I would not let my husband fall asleep before me. I edged my back so tightly against his that I am sure the rippled imprint of my backbone was impressioned upon him. I was tense, nervous and at the same time could not believe how ridiculous I felt. Similar to the movie, I awoke in the middle of the night and was terrified to glance at the clock in case the time was the same deadly hour portrayed in the "based on a true story" movie. Luckily, my fears began to subside as dawn broke and it has been smooth sailing in the sanity division ever since. The problem with this picture is that I am a mom. I am no longer a teenager who can feel fear. I am no longer simply a wife who can experience apprehension. I am a know-all facts, misbelieving in ghosts, not afraid of natural disasters, subsiding the fears of my children, Mom. No... I am Supermom.

It is one thing to explain to your children that some people may believe in supernatural, it is another thing to sitdown after children are in beds and fear the notion yourself. When my son has seen something on a movie that unsettles him, I am the person who calms his fears and eases his nerves. How would I ever be able to keep that status if he sees the uncertainty and beads of nervous sweat crossing my brow? As the storms blow their gusty winds on a rainy winter night, how can I soften the intensity when I too may believe that a spook lay in wait in the darkened corner? Even on the reality side, when my son hears through the schoolyard grapevine about kidnapping and other atrocities, I only reassure him that he is safe in my arms and then proceed to recheck locked doors, peer through the window when people stop too near our house and insist our bulldog check out unexpected after hour bumps and bangs?

Our children see us as flawless in the manner of protector. We irritate them dearly when they are denied extra sweets or sent to bed on time, but we are the shield of magical steel they depend on when it comes to the unpleasantries of their vivid imagination. I can remember my own childhood. One evening, I was denied the opportunity of finishing Jeremiah Johnson and was livid at my own mother for her callousness of impeding my cinematic thrill. I must have harshly cursed her in my own innocent way before falling to sleep on that particular school night. But after awaking from a dreamtime terror, I was rushing headfirst down our darkened hallway, headed for the sanctuary of the foot of her bed. There was no need to wake her. No need to turn on lights. No need to avoid laying by the notorious "underneath the bed" area. The general vicinity of my mom kept me safe from everything - safe from spirits, safe from burglars, safe from bullies, safe from mean store clerks and especially safe from any nightmare interrupting my slumber. There was no one who could break the perceived circle of protection that my mother had and when in doubt all I had to do was ask her and she assuredly would acknowledge her motherly power of anti-bad guy wizardry.

And now I have this circle of power. My circle is regularly visited from my kids, whether they are running from animals, shying away from strangers, dodging each other's feisty swipes of sibling aggression or even avoiding dad's impatient bellow and empty promise of a swift whack for not following his instruction. Now my motherly safety bubble gives my children a sense of safety. And, as long as my kids believe in me in this manner, I will determinably live up to it.

So what do I do about this occasional flare up of vulnerable trepidation? Number one - it is good to be honest with your kids that sometime even Mom gets scared at movies. There is nothing like a little relatability to pull a young one through a troubled moment (i.e. Mom says "there are times even I get scared of stories, but I know everything will be okay, especially if I sleep with my blankie/hug my favorite teddy/etc.). Number two - realize that time heals everything. This ranges from a skinned knee to a broken heart to a frazzled mind bewildered by televised visions of evil eyes. And number three, I have given my husband a fully executable right to smack me upside the head with a bunch of overly ripe, brown spotted bananas the next time I even remotely consider renting a movie that has any form of the word "exorcism" in it!