Becoming A Mother Bear

So, you've all heard those stories of epic aggression when someone or something steps between a mother bear and her cubs. It's commonly used when a mild mannered person changes into a fiercely protective being all for the sake of her beloved children. I have thought to myself: Would I have those instincts when it really mattered? Would I be fearless and tough, controllably irrational, and be able to call upon primal powers just to protect my little babies?
Well, my friends, that time came for me recently.
About this time of year the mice decide they would rather live indoors where we have a costly controlled heated environment rather than outside. We, on the other hand, are not so welcome to their invasion. And so it began with the traditional laying of the traps (oh, if at any time in this paragraph and beyond you say "oh, gross" then I feel have sufficiently represented my experience.) Royal was so great, he was very talented at spreading peanut butter and laying them delicately down for the fiendish little fellows. (Let's not talk about when Lucy curiously touched one, then accidentally stepped on another. Don't worry, she is tough and okay.)
I kind of forgot about them until one night when I opened the closet door to my nemesis. I saw him. I squealed. He twitched. Both from the response to my scream and also because his life was dwindling away. I knew he was stuck, I knew that he WASN'T dead, and I knew that I had to kill him. Oh, gross.

How should I do it? How could I do it? So there I was, trying to decide WHAT to do. After an encouraging call from Royal, I hung up and looked at him. Lucy was around the corner on the steps this whole time, wondering what the heck her mom was up to, but being oh, so patient. At first sight, I saw this cute little nose, and soft brown eyes.

But then, I remembered the mouse poop I had just cleaned out of the closet. I thought of the disease ridden feet that could have been running across the same floor that my sweet little Grantster is learning to crawl on. I thought of how I felt so violated at his existence into our home and that is when I became the Mother Bear.
I turned mean. I evoked some power I was never aware of. If I had been in a movie, there would have been a swirling of smoke behind me. I took that energy and allowed him to die in a cruel and gruesome manner which I will spare you all the details of. I just hope I can be forgiven for the life that I have taken.

After a trip to the dumpster, and a hug for my girl, I had this realization that I . . .did it. I saved my kids. Maybe not from immediate death, but definitely some sort of threat to their lives. Look at me, I'm the Mama Bear.