The other day, I saw a young man (woo, that makes me sound old) who couldn’t have been more than 23 or 24, and (this will make me sound even older) he was covered in tattoos. No big deal, right? Copious body art is not my thing, but hey, to each his own.
The tattoos ran up and down both of his arms, which seemed pretty normal and was no reason for a double-take. But when I saw that he had a fairly large tattoo on his neck, that’s when I stopped in my tracks and suddenly started thinking like a mom.
What did his mother say when she saw that for the first time? Followed quickly by Gasp! What if Isaac comes home someday with a tattoo on his neck?
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Of course, Isaac is only 10 months old so this isn’t really a concern right now. And tattoos are sure to have run their course by the time he’s old enough to consider them. I mean, it seems like they came into fashion again in the early 1990s when I was in college, so they are bound to go out of style again any day now and then lay dormant for a few decades before bouncing back. Like maybe they’ll be popular with my grandchildren, but certainly not my children, right?
I’m sure that’s just the kind of reassuring thing we parents tell ourselves to get to sleep at night. And I know that there are much bigger concerns for a mother to have when it comes to the health, well-being and happiness of her children. I’d love my kids no matter what crazy (or at least crazy by my up-tight standards) thing they could ever dream up and do. Nothing could ever make me stop loving them for a second. But the hard part is acknowledging that the real issue here is control.
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It’s already starting now in small ways to gently break me into the inevitable pull toward loosening the reins and letting go. Like the time Lucy ran away from us with shrieks of glee at The Shops at Kenilworth, looking over her shoulder and delighting in her naughty moment of independence. I can try to prompt Isaac to throw his arms over his head to show me that he’s “so big,” a baby parlor trick he just learned, but nine times out of 10, he’ll just shake his head no at me, already practicing a little light defiance of his dear mother’s wishes. It’s all just practice for the day when just about everything Lucy and Isaac do will be completely out of my hands.
