We sure do talk about my brilliant choices quite a bit. With my daughter’s 13th birthday right around the corner, I’m constantly reminded of one of my brilliant choices I made when I was 13. Well, that AND it is literally tattooed to my person.

 

That’s right. I gave myself a tattoo when I was 13.

 

See, I told you it was a brilliant choice.

 

I remember it clear as the day is long. A girlfriend and I hanging out in my room on a long, hot summer day asking each other…’I dunno, what do you want to do?’

 

‘I know, let’s give ourselves tattoos’

 

‘Great idea, but how do you give yourself a tattoo?’

 

‘Well, I have all the stuff we need right here in my purse; I’ll show you.’

 

Let’s stop right here and talk about this phrase for just a moment, shall we? If this moment teaches you just one thing, let it be this…I beg of you, please do not, for any reason, move forward with giving yourself a tattoo – in your bedroom – with someone who just happens to have all the stuff you need in her purse. And trust me, a sewing needle that you sterilize with a lighter IS NOT ‘the stuff you need’. Oh, and in case you were wondering, turning a sewing needle black from holding a flame to it, is NOT the definition of sterilization, it is more the definition of ‘asking for trouble’.

 

Ugh

 

I like to believe that I’m raising my kiddos to make better choices. I guess that isn’t a fair statement, is it? Was it really my upbringing that lead me to that moment? Did it really have anything to do with how I was raised? I’m not sure. It’s true that 2 13 year old girls, bored out of their gourd and without adult supervision made a pretty moronic decision. Could my girls be making the same decision upstairs right now as we speak? *double ugh* yes, yes they could.

 

Man, this parenting gig is hard. I have to have hope & trust coming out of my whozit. But I also need to be careful not to turn my hope into a crazy paranoia. Remember how I want to keep the kiddos home and safe with me for the next million years? < one might say that is the crazy paranoia speaking.

 

The balance of having hope and trust that they will all make the right decisions, stay safe and be kind – it’s a tricky balance. Well, not so much a 'balance', but more of a ‘I only yell at Darren about how they could be giving themselves tattoos RIGHT NOW behind closed doors’.

 

Today I am going in for my 3rd round (out of 10) of laser removal. Sweet mercy, it is a painful, slow, humbling and expensive process. I can’t wait for it to all be done. But in the meantime I need to remember that foolish choices happen. Maybe that’s why the universe let me make this harebrained decision, so I can remember that one moronic choice doesn’t make me a bad person or define me. I need to remember it is my job as a mom to be there for my kiddo (husband/friend) when the unwise choices are made. No judgment, just love and support. So much remembering for one person.

 

But for the love of Pete, if any of these monkeys come home with a tattoo that is not the pre-approved white inked heart with the word ‘mom’ in the middle, heads will roll. Roll.