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The Arm, The Tattoo

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This is a picture of the arm of our youngest son. This is the arm I brought into the world 18 years ago, along with the rest of his body. The arm looks pretty much the same as it did those many years gone by, except a little bigger and with a lot more hair. Oh how the years fly by.

Tattoo

Luke, the owner of the arm, started talking about getting a tattoo a few years ago. He was under age at the time and we both knew it wasn’t going to happen on my watch, but we both knew too that the day was coming.

The day is here.

Several weeks ago we had a conversation, Luke and I. I’m not sure how the topic was introduced but he pretty much let me know he was getting a tattoo when he turned 18.

As an aside, Luke is a musician. He plays a lot of instruments well. He plays the bass guitar like nobody’s business. In fact, he has taken lessons for about nine years now. He is said to be one of the best in the city, with the ability to play with any band who comes to town. He should be, I must add, we’ve forked over enough money so that he could have lessons by another adept bass player. Am I bragging on my kid? Yeah, just a little. I don’t do it often. Hey, it’s my blog and I can brag if I want to.

So our conversation went a little something like this:

Me: So what’s this tattoo going to look like, I love Mom (I asked as I grinned and shook my head up and down)?

Luke: No, it’s going to be a bass cleft and say Peter Fornay inked in the center.

Me: (Thinking this must be a famous bass player) I think I’ve heard of him. What band is he with?

Luke: (Shaking head) What are you talking about? I’m having 1 Peter 4:10 put on the bass cleft.

Me: (Dang, I was wondering why he was paying eternal homage on his arm to some dude who may some day be just another has-been musician.) Well that sounds like a really nice tattoo. What does 1 Peter 4:10 say?

Luke: Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.

Luke and I seem to have a lot of conversations such as this and I’m okay with that.

I took the before-marred pic of the arm on Friday. Luke had plans to go to a University of Kentucky football game Saturday, and the marking of the arm was to occur after the game. I knew we would be at church when Luke arrived home from Lexington, before the ink event took place, so I left a message on the chalkboard that hangs in the kitchen.

arms and tattaoos

On Friday night as I was taking the pic before the marking, marring, inking of the arm took place, I was telling Jacob (our oldest son) and Josh (a friend of theirs) about Peter Fornay. Jacob didn’t even know his little brother was getting a tattoo. Made me feel a little better. I’m just the mom, always the last to know. Well not this time.

Luke arrived home with a bandage on his arm Saturday night. We had to wait awhile before the unveiling to see this art-form that will grace my son’s arm for the rest of his days. It was nicely done. I made a really big deal out of it but that’s what I do. It was to be expected just ask any of my people.

It’s just a tattoo. Everybody has at least one. No big thing.

The arm. The tattoo. My son.

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As far as tattoos go, I’m not a huge fan. I respect his decision to choose though and I like his choice.

What are your thoughts on tattoos?

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Mothering – It’s Nothing Personal

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“Mothering, it’s nothing personal”, I mumble under my breath as my son rolls his eyes at a question I just asked. Maybe I already asked him this question, or maybe he’s just not in the mood?

I’ve written about this mothering thing before.

Mothering

After a hard few hours of cleaning offices (my day/night job), I walked into the kitchen and saw my adult child. I don’t believe I’ve seen him today, I thought to myself, so maybe I should engage him in conversation. But then again maybe not. He answered but I heard the tone that says I really don’t want to be bothered right now…by you.

I walked to the garage to get my cleaning equipment out of the trunk of my car and said to myself (aloud), “It’s nothing personal. He really didn’t mean to be snippy. He’s tired too and doesn’t want to be bothered… right now…by me.”

Have you been there?

Do you have an adult or soon-to-be adult child (better known as teenagers) living in YOUR house?

I mean it when I say it’s nothing personal because it’s not really about me the person anymore than it’s about you. It’s more about me the mother, so it’s nothing personal.

Before we become mothers, or even while our kids are small, we have such aspirations of how we will parent. We read the books and decide if we want to be go the “attached parenting” route, or have a more traditional  mode of raising our kids. We do our research and a bit of soul-searching and discover our true parenting identities. Life will be good and this parenting thing? No worries, I got this. Oh, the folly!

We oftentimes take the approach that we’ll do what our parents did when raising us – only better.

Or, if our childhood was particularly unhealthy and dysfunctional, we’ll just do everything the opposite of how we were raised. Botta bing, botta boom, no sweat.

Or maybe we even choose a more middle of the road attitude in our parenting style, or perhaps we just wing it as we go along our merry way.

I’m not saying there’s any one way to parent. In fact, quite the opposite may be true. People are individuals with likes and dislikes all their own. Mix that up with the different temperaments and attitudes we come into the world with and BAM!

There is no one size fits all manual when it comes to raising kids.

As much as we say our kids will never_____(you can fill in the blank with whatever you want), or we will have this ultimate, close relationship with our children, or whatever; what it comes down to is kids are kids and they’re going to roll their eyes at you every now and then and/or use the tone, even if you do have a great relationship.

I know these things are true and no matter how many stories I tell of how cool I was back in the day, they just don’t care. Still they roll their eyes and use the tone.

This mothering thing…it’s not for the faint of heart or one without thick skin.

Mothering is a very personal thing. We spend our lives, minutes, hours and days to make sure our kids grow into healthy functional, joyous human adults. We pour and invest ourselves into these little people for many, many years, even before they enter the world.

Mothering is very personal.

The next time your kid pulls the tone on you or rolls their eyes, just tell yourself it’s nothing personal.

When in fact, it’s the most personal thing in the world.

 

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Very First Last Time

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Do you remember the children’s book Very First Last Time? It was a favorite of ours when my kids were small. We read it aloud quite often. I’ve been thinking about that book the last few days. The storyline goes like this: Eva, an Inuit girl, lives along Ungava Bay in northern Canada. In the winter, her people search for mussels along the bottom of the seabed. Although Eva has often joined her mother on these searches, today is the very first day she’s climbing down through the ice hole by herself.

Very First Last Time

My very first last time is not as dramatic as Eva’s, it’s just pretty emotional. Last week I paid the last tuition to the co-op for the class my youngest son is taking. The countdown has begun. Oh the phases of parenting.

The countdown technically began 24 years ago, when my first child was born. Life is a series of events and situations that you go through. Some good, some not so much, but each day brings new things to deal with.

We homeschooled all three of our kids, all through their schooling years. My oldest two have graduated and moved on to other things. My youngest will graduate high school in a few short weeks. The co-op all three of my kids attended has provided many fulfilling classes, events and relationships along the way for each of them, myself included, and that is coming to an end.

I knew this day was coming. I even wrote a post about it, Back to (Home) School,  at the beginning of the school year. I just didn’t think it would get here so fast. And yet…it did.

This is a bittersweet time, it really is. I am excited that I will no longer be in charge of my kids’ formal education. I’m excited too, for the new things that are opening up for my child, and looking forward to the ones he will choose, watching him grow and change all the while. But on the other hand, it is over. My kids are grown. My baby is no longer a baby, nor has he been for many years.

I’m a sentimental old fool, in case you haven’t noticed. I countdown every milestone that comes our way. This one’s been a long time in the making but it is finally upon us.

I will embrace it for what it is…this very first last time.

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Daughter Saves the Day

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My daughter saved the day when she was a small child. I talked about her brothers here and here, and now it’s time for her!

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Down Yonder

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I posted a video about my youngest son a bit ago (click here). Now I’m taking a walk down memory lane with my middle son.

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Give Me Five

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A walk down memory lane when my youngest was two.

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Life Changes

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The blogging world is so interesting and intriguing to me. I love when I stumble upon a blog that speaks to me when I read the many posts. There are quite a few, amid the sea of those who are doing product reviews, passing along coupons, sales and tips on how to save money. The mom cafe is one such blog. I always walk (click) away from her blog with a tidbit to ponder. I love all the mom blogs, but I’m in a different place.

Life changes so quickly. I was thinking along these lines today as I was cleaning an office. I am an old person among my fellow bloggers. There aren’t many out there like me. Most are moms who want to be home with their young kids and are finding ways to make money to accomplish that desire. I admire them for doing so.

I smile as I read the many creative ideas about things to do with your kids, things to keep them occupied so the mother can get things done; things to entertain them over the summer break. I smile because I know that all too soon this mom’s life will change and she won’t know where the time went either.

I read something on Facebook last week. I “Shared” it on my timeline so I could go back and read it again. It was written by a dad of young children, lamenting the fact that parents of kids who are grown, or almost anyway, are always telling him to enjoy the time while he can (click to read). He was frustrated from lack of sleep and alone time for himself and with his wife. He asked us parents of grown kids To Let Him Be the One to Say it Out Loud . I get where he was coming from, I really do but…

I noticed a lot of young parents “Liked” the link. They could identify I’m sure, with what this dad was saying.

I shake my head and smile, because in my heart of hearts I know that in a matter of minutes (or so it will seem) this dad of young kids will soon be in the same boat as I am, wondering how it all passed so quickly.

Life changes. It’s supposed to I know. It changes for us all no matter how hard we try to hold on. This I know to be true; we must each come to terms with what we will do when it changes all on our own. No one can help us see until the time in now.

The other day I posted a status on Facebook. I said something to the effect that they should give you a heads up at the hospital when you have a baby. They should give you a piece of paper stating: Warning! The next 18 years will fly by. A friend commented and said the new parents wouldn’t believe it if they did. She’s right, they wouldn’t, or maybe they can’t.

I guess that’s how it’s set up. If you knew in advance what you learn along the way then what would be the point?




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It’s Happening Already!

kids

I have three kids. My oldest is twenty-two. My middle child will be twenty-one in a few short weeks, and my youngest is sixteen.

They are all different, as happens in any given family. The older two were shy introverts while growing up. Not so much now that they are adults, though. My youngest was out-going as a young boy, always going and doing, and talking!

In recent years, however, once the teenage era hit, he changed a little. He too became a bit more reserved and thoughtful. I would question him when he would turn down invitations to go and do something, usually big group kinds of things. He would tell me he was more of a homebody these days. I told him I would remind him of that when he got his license.

That time is now. It is happening already. After two months of having his restricted license, the boy is rarely home!

How can he do this to me, I agonize? How can he grow up and leave the nest I so lovingly created for him? How can he simply grab his keys and head out the door, knowing he is my last, my baby? How indeed?


That is the nature of life; the way it was intended to be. I am happy for him, for them all, but oh the pain of letting go.


I am grateful today, however, that as he tells me good-bye while climbing into the vehicle of my demise (the car pictured above, the car we provided him with to drive) to meet a friend, this whole leaving the nest thing is a process, one that I have been experiencing for many years now; the everyday letting go. For that is what is required in the life of a parent.

I just wasn’t prepared for that emptying-nest feeling I am now experiencing, or the questions of what happens next?

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Celebrating My Daughter

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Today my oldest child and only daughter turned 21. How can that be? Cliche time…”it seems like only yesterday”, “time flies” and those things are so very true.

I remember the night she was born, and the 26 hour labor. Who forgets those things? I waited so long to become a mother, and I’m not just talking about the 26 hours. My husband and I were married ten years before she came along. Ten long years; most of which were spent really wanting to be a mother. Can it really be that long ago? Can I really be 21 years older?

So enough of that. It is what it is and we took some time to celebrate. We had dinner out and talked of different things we remembered most about her growing up years. We laughed as her brother who is 22 months younger, shared his memories. We had some cake, gave her some gifts and went our separate ways. But my thoughts are still way back when…

It was like playing dolls, sort of… except for changing diapers and the spit-up and the midnight feedings. Those things passed but so did the playing dolls feeling. Her brothers came along and things got busy. And all of the sudden, or so it seems, she is an adult. Which means I am an adult…really…and that leads to the real question…how did that happen?

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