Witnessing something symbolic

Tags

body art, meaning, postaday2013, symbolism, tattoo

Today my hubby and I went with the baby girl as support while she received her first tattoo. My hubby has three tattoos, so he was understanding and completely on board with the tattoo idea. Myself, on the other hand, always made it a point of honor that both my children wait until eighteen before they had any type of piercings or tattoos done because personally, I find them very unappealing. My husband is the only person that I know of who has tattoos that I find suit him and that are attractive.

My baby girl waited until the day after her 19th birthday to get her tattoo and she specifically asked us to go, so how can I say no. I might not agree with tattoos but it isn’t my body, it is hers, so I can’t just impose my tastes and sensibilities on her. It is simply a matter of taste and self-expression after all. I can’t deny her my support just because of a difference in taste. She is my baby girl after all and since it is a painful undertaking, she has to hold someone’s hand and it should be mine, her Maman.

I have to hand it to the baby girl, she was awfully brave and pain tolerant. The tattoo artist himself was quite impressed by her grit and stoicism. My hubby and I weren’t so surprised because she has always been plucky and feisty, since she was a tiny little thing.

The ultimate thrill

Describe your ultimate theme park ride. Roller coaster? Water ride? 3-D Experience?

I have an aversion to heights so I do not have any favorites amongst the rides but I do however have a few stories, I am a mother and isn't that part of the job description; follow you children on whichever ride they have to go on?

There was one particular ride that the baby girl and I went on, I forget the name but basically it operated on the centrifuge principle and spun very quickly. As the baby girl and I were spinning in our car in one direction, independently, of the spinning arm that held our car, that was spinning in another direction, the baby girl started saying that she wasn't feeling so good and I talked her down from losing her breakfast. I told her stories and made jokes, got her laughing and then I made her laugh even harder when I was making fun of my own misery. When the ride finally stopped, we almost crawled out of the car and made our way to the curb and sat for quite a while with our heads between our knees. For years after, the baby girl would walk past that ride and say to anyone listening that she would never go on that ride ever again.

Another ride that sticks out in memory was the old fashioned roller coaster like the ones that you see in the old posters at Coney Island. We went together as a family on that one and my baby boy who was in the car in front of me kept looking behind to see just how green and terrified his Maman was getting. His Maman didn't disappoint, I felt as if that ride was the longest torturous ride ever, it felt rickety and noisy and I could have sworn that it was going to tip over or onto its side at any minute. I was so happy to be on terra ferma when the ride was over.

I am so happy that the amusement park adventures are over, hooray!