Much Ado About Parenting: tattoos

Showing posts with label tattoos. Show all posts

Monday, 10 June 2013

Only a Mother knows.

Lately, I have got to thinking about my own childhood and experience with my parents growing up. It isn't until you become a parent, in particular a Mother, that you really understand everything which comes with your new title. Only as a Mother yourself can you truly understand your own Mother and her madness; all of which comes from an undying love and need for you, her child. It sounds so extreme that a Mother needs her children to live but it is the most absolute truth I have come across. Without our children we feel like empty shells of women, with no real purpose in life. There is a desperation which comes with Motherhood, which drives you to the tip of insanity and back again. Never have you been so in love or so desperate for the love of another than as a Mother.

From this I have been thinking back on what I really gained, learnt from my childhood and one thing prevails. Be yourself. It may sound cliche but my parents really did and still do accept me and my brother for who we are, who we want to be, who we can be. For myself, I feel incredibly lucky to have parents who have been welcoming and accepting to my friends and past boyfriends. They have always instilled in me a link between my life in and out of their house. My parents have always accepted my hobbies and ever changing aspirations with support but an equal amount of realism. Most of all, my parents have always been open and accepting of my love for the unusual, whether that be fashion, music or tattoos. Although, I should probably add here that it was my Mum who got me into Siouxsie and the Banshees and persuaded me to listen to Marilyn Manson as a Greenday bopping teenager!

My parents have always been interested in our hobbies, our tastes, our life which was great. My Mum and Dad would stand in the crowd of my gigs playing drums in shit indie bands and in my days as an angst ridden goth singer! They even made it to a goth night to watch me DJ and my Mum always made sure I had big pants and tights to wear under my mini skirt! As I say, I think this is what I take most from my childhood and adulthood really: openness and acceptance.

Having such open parents does make it hard fucking work to rebel though. See Mum, I said fuck!

Even in adulthood my parents put up with me going through an array of fashions and phases along with going out with some pretty dodgy characters, several house moves and the decision to undertake teacher training after just 6 months living solo working in London. They still accepted me home for a year to do my teacher training. After this my parents allowed and accepted me travelling to Ghana alone for the summer which, while a woman of 26, I can see now how harrowing this would have been for them. In particular for my Mother, watching me check in at the airport knowing that from that moment on I am alone in an unknown world, without her protection or care.

Being a parent never ends. Being a Mother doesn't stop when they are off your hands. It just gets more difficult, as you are forced to let them go and learn to accept and love a new person. This person still holds the core of your baby, your child but has changed under the influence of not just you but the world outside of you. When we live in a world as cruel as ours, its no wonder this ensues madness.

Sunday, 23 September 2012

Lazy days, tattooing days and an impending birthday.

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As the rain pounds on the balcony doors of our bedroom I lay in bed listening to this combined with the breathing and snoring of my husband and son happy in slumber with a gentle undertone of country music in the background. It is a Sunday morning and life couldn't be better. It sounds predictable but here lies the formula for a happy life: family, music and home.

As I approach my 28th birthday tomorrow I realise it has taken me some time to reach the point where I am truly happy. Not drunk happy with false smiles, not plastic happy with forced hope, but happy. Smiling so the wrinkles show happy, wearing no make up and baggy PJ bottoms happy, really happy. I can credit this whole heartedly to my husband, who came out of nowhere and shook me into reality, our reality. If someone had told me that I would be sharing my 28th birthday with my 23 year old husband, who I sang Shania Twain to at our reception in a 50s diner while 16 weeks pregnant with our now 7 week old son I would have at least laughed out loud. Here I am though, laying in bed with the most straightforward happiness available; a wonderful husband and beautiful baby boy beside me. Nothing breeds smiles like days like these.

Just to clarify I am not knocking drunk happy. That can still be fun, even for a wrinkly Mummy like me!

I also sit here with a new tattoo to share. Yesterday as a birthday present we both went and had tattoos together. Charlie ended up having a disaster piece repaired, which we had created on a previous lazy Sunday pre-marriage, pre-pregnancy. I, however, am now the proud owner of a gorgeous pink and blue cupcake with 'Ethan' on the band. I am sure in years to come our son will find this highly embarassing and question what his arrival has to do with cakes! Mummy loves Ethan, Mummy loves cakes. Simple. While being tattooed yesterday the in laws looked after Ethan and he was perfectly behaved of course! This was the first time (other than an essential blood test) that I have been out without Ethan in tow and the first time me and Charlie have been out just the 2 of us since his birth. Some may find it strange but getting tattooed was the perfect way to spend this precious time as a couple. We have both always shared a love of tattoo art, Charlie is a tattoo artist himself and one of our first points of contact was when comparing ink. I can see more tattoo outings on the cards in the future.

My new tattoo by Darren at Thundertats, Leigh-on-Sea.

While being tattooed and chatting to the artist he said something which I have been thinking about since: 'a tattoo is the only thing you will take to your grave.' This may sound depressing but it made me reflect on our life and really consider how our family memories which will be tattooed on our hearts and sleeves are the only thing which matters. Do I care if we never afford to buy a house? Am I upset if we can't buy expensive clothes? Does material gain interest me? Not so much. I knew this all along but I think the impending birthday might be getting to me and making me realise that as I head closer to 30 I really haven't done too badly for myself!