5 Superhero Traits All Moms Have

I read this article and thought it was really interesting. I guess there is a little superhero in all of us. GO WONDERMOMS!
Brief summary:

It's not just me. It's mothering itself. One minute a woman stands in an empty nursery, battling butterflies and Braxton-Hicks contractions, wondering what she's gotten herself into and whether it's truly possible to love anyone as much as her DH. Then, pow! Ka-boom! Zounds! She gazes into that squinchy face and she's ready to lay down her life for a virtual stranger.
Is it the power of love? I like to think so. Scientists believe a mother's "vigilant protectiveness," as Japanese neuroscientist Madoka Noriuchi calls it, may be rooted in brainpower, too. Last year, researchers in Tokyo used MRI to show that particular areas of mothers' brains lit up when their children were in distress. They believe this means that a highly elaborate neural chain reaction orchestrates certain responses to cries. Having a baby also creates subtle changes in the brain that result in sharpened perceptions

The superpowers you didn't know you had -- until you had a child
Super courage!
There's a reason parents on airplanes are urged to adjust their own oxygen masks before helping their children. Safety experts know how strong the parental instinct is to save one's child without regard to one's self.
Super ferocity!
Another survival instinct is one we share with mama bears (and maybe mama bees). It's a primal protectiveness that's ignited when a mom sees her cub threatened or suffering.
Super strength!
Adrenaline fuels more than bravado. It's part of the "fight or flight" response to stress. It raises the heart rate, releases glucose for energy, and increases oxygen flow to the muscles, making them work harder. Net result: a burst of superhuman strength. Ever hear stories of people fighting off sharks or lifting cars and heavy machinery off other people? They're not urban legends.
Super presence of mind!
You'd think that the fear and hysteria triggered by a crisis involving a child would erase all presence of mind. Yet many parents report the opposite. It's only later -- when everything's okay -- that they fall apart. "Your son will be fine," an ER doctor once told my sister-in-law, who had calmly wrapped her toddler's bloody finger when it was mashed in a van door and then driven him to the hospital and nursed him through stitches. "But you're whiter than he is, and I think you need to sit down before you leave." By then, she could.
Superstrong stomach!
To think that my husband (to-be, at the time) once chased me around his apartment with a piece of raw chicken, coaxing me to touch it in a vain attempt at exposure therapy. (He'd just learned that I avoided the meat counter at the supermarket because the sight of those bloody, glistening cuts made me nauseous.) One word changed all that: rotavirus. Eleanor had contracted a horrible case. Who knew a 20-pound human could lose so many bodily fluids and live? Who knew I'd unflinchingly cope with it? As one mom said, "No one ever told me that becoming a mother would at some point require me to cup my hand in front of my child's mouth in an attempt to capture as much vomit as possible and keep his clothes intact. And they certainly didn't tell me what to do with a handful once I had it."

How a sissy like me grew into this brave face, this quick-thinking calm, this comics-page courage, I'll never know. I'm just grateful these superpowers are there, clicking on in the nick of time. No phone booths or invisible planes necessary.