The Bubble's Gonna Burst

It's always a struggle- how much do I allow the delicately nurtured bubble that I so carefully molded around my babies, to be prodded and poked so they are indeed exposed to the ugliness and unloving ways of the world as they grow up into young boys? Actually, I am kind of annoyed with myself for using that metaphor for my parenting technique, because I despise the term "bubble". And as my children grow, I realize that a "bubble" is something that would eventually suffocate them for that lack of exposure to the world would fatally shock them once the bubble bursts. But I do treasure their innocence, and mourn it's loss every day as they are indeed given knowledge that isn't necessarily beneficial or accurate for that matter. In this phase of parenthood though, I can't just depend on my instincts or feelings of nurture and love to guide me through as a successful parent. These are the times when I must be equipped mentally and emotionally to handle the actual "meat" of growing up children, and not just give them the sugar-coated "milky" answers like, "that's a bad choice," or "use your words". Nope, they need more depth, more of the "whys" about their choices, more "think about how those words show your heart"when their mouths are foul.
I am trying my best to not be a condemning voice when the boys ask me about things that they learned or saw. I am trying to be grace-filled and Truth-driven, so that they continue to feel safe to ask me these things. But, oh how my heart twists when I see their bright eyes dulled with the knowledge, their small brows furrow with confusion at the mess of this life. When I can explain it to them, and get past the topic, my instincts overwhelm, and I want to hold them close, kiss them gently, and say, "Mommy will forever protect you," and hold them in that bubble of my arms, until the next time when that bubble just isn't good enough.