I have a tattoo. Here’s a little visual for you. A photograph taken on my wedding day. In my white dress. In front of a lighthouse altar. My arm gently folded around my man’s broad hand. It was a sunny Cape Cod day full of promise, and new beginnings.
Despite life’s fresh starts, we all are branded by the past. I am branded. This tattoo is the most obvious of examples. I cannot hide it. I cannot remove it. It drops beneath shirt sleeves, and peeks through pale, woven sweaters. It is boldly displayed in a tank top or (gasp!) a swimsuit. But apart from its physical appearance, my abstract armband is a daily reminder of youth and tenacity. Of my tendency toward quick, confident decisions.
Recently, this emblem of my carefree days has become the impetus of a train of thought that goes something like this:
“How much of my past will I share with my kids?” or “Will all the mistakes I have made in my life help me or hurt me as a mother?”
My past, you see, is filled with what I would characterize as an inordinate amount of misstep. Choices that have sent me spiraling into unsafe unknowns, but choices that I have eventually come to accept. Although the argument of Destiny has its place, I truly believe I would not be running in these same sneakers if I had not fallen and fumbled like I did fifteen or so years ago.
One of my dearest friends has several tattoos. During a visit to our home when he was three, Jamis inquired about the black designs on Aunt Jane’s skin. Aunt Jane, with quick wit, called them stamps. I’m not sure if it was to avoid describing the permanence of a tattoo, or to relate to the toddler mind, but this code name seemed appropriate at the time. My son was satisfied and the conversation ended.
And so it was for many years that Jamis fingered the lines of my black designs and muttered the word: stamp. He is 7 now, and of course knows that the stamp is a tattoo and something that will forever mark me. Like the ink upon my skin, time and mistakes have colored pieces of me that will never go blank again.
I think about the day my son comes to me and asks to get his own tattoo–or more likely, shares that he has already been inked–and I wonder what I’ll say. Will I be angry? Will I just nod my head, remembering back to my days of youth and how nobody, nowhere, was going to tell me what to do or try to teach me something about life before I’d experienced it for myself.
I imagine that I will learn how to share bits and pieces of my good times and my bad, giving things a code name until my children are old enough to fully comprehend the nature of my truths. I don’t really worry about what to do, what is right or wrong, as I think it will become another piece of the mother I am, a woman who is guided by instinct and does a lot of thinking on her feet. I do wonder, however, if I’ll one day be as confident in the decisions I make as a parent as the ones I made in my youth. And I wonder if my children will be as lucky as I have been, living lives that seemingly surrender to a path that, although circumstance and mistakes cast shadows, always manage to make it to the light.
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one of my best friends has a 4 year old daughter who is so intrigued by all of “auntie nic’s permanent markers.” :)
the first time she asked me “what are those?” i told her, “this is what happens when you play with permanent markers. talk to your mommy and daddy about it when you’re older one day.”
beautiful pictures.
Depending on the day I am either comforted or nauseated by the permanence. I typically thrive off of change, or at least the knowledge that change is possible, so for me, the “permanent marker” freaks me out a little…but it’s a waste of brain space cause it’s not like I can do anything about it now, and really? I think it’s a positive for me to have such a physical reminder of all that ancient history. Keeps me grounded.
Beautiful post. We are all branded, some visible, some not, by our past and I loved this reminder of that.
Debra! Finally a face (or half a face) to the twitter avatar I’ve glimpsed for so long. Thanks for stopping by. And yes, we are all branded, in ways we love and ways we regret, but it makes us who we are in this moment and it’s something that I feel a need to remember without dwelling upon.
Our pasts make us who we are today. We may not like that or want to admit it to everyone but it is true. Not all of us where our pasts through outward signs but we all have them and there is no escaping them.
I have tried to not let my kids know the inner details of my youth but they know I was no saint. Do I want them to know more? Probably not. At times I would just like them to realize I have some experiences that they could benefit from without having to make the mistakes I have made.
Nope, no way of escaping the signs of our past which, at this point, I’m finally okay with. Finally. But I still wonder how much I will reveal. I’m sure that, like you, it will end up being somewhat of an outline, or a general feeling of some kind. But I have a tendency to spill all (as many of my blogging friends have come to understand) and I wonder if I will be able to hold back the words when the time comes with my own kids. I think I ought to start practicing. :)
Being the kid that could never take anybody’s WORD for it, I know it will be difficult for me to tell my kids to do something or to not do something and simply ask them to trust that I know what I’m talking about. There are many years, and many more struggles ahead of me, so I have time…
I so understand, Sarah. Trust me, I do. I am one who would prefer to put it all out there but then, I realize there is no reason for that.
You’re right. I know you’re right. I am slowly learning–more recently, actually–to be a little less quick to share with others. I’m finally realizing that I cannot force openness or reaction, and that my tendency toward honesty does not mean for one second that it will be reciprocated.
I am sure of only one thing: and that is that I will figure it all out with my kids when I have to. And I know I’ll be confident and strong. I don’t really know another way.
I wrote this really long winded comment until I realized something: you have already said what I wanted to say.
Amber – you’re so wise. I should do this more often!!
Eva/Amber,
Um, yeah, I totally need to realize the art of “keeping it short.” I can n never seem to stop myself. I could just go on and on and on and…well, you get it…
Sometimes the words that need to be said are the same ones we’ve just read. Yes, and thank you.
Sarah
I wonder about these things, too. How much do we tell our kids? When can we trust that they see us as people separate from them, who have pasts? Do we even want them to see us as people, and thus fallible?
Great post. I think your tattoo will, if nothing else, make your sons think you’re pretty damn cool. Kids love that sh*t.
Yes, I’ll echo what Jana said – tattoos make you cool, give your kids a glimpse into a time before you were a mom.
I think if anything, a tattoo is a good thing *because* it is such a visible brand of the past. It encourages kids to ask questions, to think about your past. It opens the discussion on decisions, good and bad. Other brands of our past that are not visible are much harder to bring up, to naturally weave into conversation.
Thank you for your beautiful words, your beautiful heart and your beautiful honesty.
Thank you for raising the bar.
I don’t know if I raise the bar but I would certainly raise my glass IN a bar. Tattoos or not, it’s not hard to tell that this mama needs a night amount among women who can TALK. There’s wayyyy too much thinking going on upstairs lately, and wayyyy too few outlets that don’t involve eating pizza–again!–and drinking rum and cokes (alone).
(ok, you caught me. and yes, i’m using a BIG, FAT straw)
Alright ladies, I’m glad you think that I’ll be viewed as the “cool” mom by my sons. I have to tell you though, that right now I feel like the odd mom on the playground. But the boys are still young and the other moms are still supremely judgmental (I assume, of course) and I’m sure it doesn’t help that I could take a full five minutes to get to a kid who’s fallen face first in the dirt. Yeah, I’m that laissez-faire mom you see on the playground. I often lose track of a kid or two and I always feel flustered…although, I just remembered, I’ve had two people recently tell me that I never LOOK flustered, but rather that I am extremely calm and have my sh*t together. It surprised the heck outta me, let me tell ya!
I digress–my point IS that I’ll be very excited if I’m the cool mom. With the cool teenage-boy hangout house. I think, if anything, my tendency toward honesty will definitely help. And laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.
And just in case you didn’t know it, you are a beautiful bride – ink and all.
Sigh. Nearly eight years ago and I still can’t figure out how I got there in the first place.
Thanks, Nicki.
For everything.
Yes! I meant to comment on that. I LOVE the wedding photo – another little peek into your life. Oh man, I love old photos.
Thanks, Eva!
Definitely the cool mom. I’m considering getting “stamped” for my 50th in a year and a half. But where and what, that’s the dilemma…
If I have anything to say about WHAT kind of tattoo to get the only thing I would say is that I think it’s best when it means something to you, carries some significance.
And also, because I already know you’re a cool mom, this stamp can only make you cooler.
A friend and I were just talking about this yesterday. She’s got several tattoo’s in visible places, and while she loves them all (commemorating a friends death, pets deaths, son’s birth…) she feels very vulnerable because of them when at the playground with her son – a new phenomenon as her son is 19 months, she works out of the house and is just now branching out where other mom’s would be…
Anyway, she feels really vulnerable, having everyone see the choices she’s made. On the other hand, I feel vulnerable because of choices I’ve made, but no one would know unless I told them (which if anyone reads my blog they know… but I’m rambling…). Just kind of funny how we both feel vulnerable because of our choices, no matter if they’re outwardly shown or not.
And I’m struggling with how much I’ll share with my kids as well… I think it’s a matter of timing rather than a question of quantity – if that makes sense. They’ll probably figure it all out at some point, but it’s a matter of giving them what they’re ready for at each step. Then again, I know things about my parents I really wish I had never known thanks to an over sharing mother.. but who knows! :)
Yes, vulnerable, that’s a wonderful way of expressing it. I do feel vulnerable, everywhere I am with the kids, like people look at my tattoo and can see everything else inside–all the wrong choices and struggle. Of course I know they can’t. And of course I know that having a tattoo does not mean one has had a sordid past, nor do others assume it to be so. It must be my own insecurity then with the life lived before I had children. The tattoo really represents the end of that life, as it was the last really reckless thing I did before recklessly getting pregnant.
I know there are secrets within all of us. Things that we can choose when and with whom to share. I know that one of the reasons I struggle is because there is so much hidden behind my suburban mom facade. And the tattoo is only the beginning of the differences between me and “Linda” on the playground. But, you know, I know that it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve gotten over the differences. They no longer define me like you might assume. Instead, I just wonder where they will bring me as a mom. And only time will tell.
Tattoos or any “symbol” of who and what we once were are perfect jumping-off points to talk about the decisions that led us there. And while the tattoo is permanent, the discussion can always change, shift, or become more or less, depending on who we’re talking to (and how old (young) they are).
Also, an anecdote: My daughter just got her first temporary “pattoo” (Minnie Mouse) at a birthday party and was very disappointed it didn’t “stick like Mommy’s.” It was our first discussion about mine. Our first of many, I’m sure!
I am both excited and terrified of the discussions that loom in the future. Just as I am both delighted and saddened to see my children growing up.
It’s not surprising that many of the decisions I made as a parent are spur of the moment, as that’s the way I always was. But it is surprising that more and more of my parenting style has been the result of this kind of contemplation lately. It’s so apparent to me that we grow with our kids. It’s a life I would never trade.
I really love this post you’ve written, Sarah, mostly because it brings up so many issues that are near and dear to my heart.
Your tattoo is a visible reminder of the woman you were at one point in your life but just as much as you are marked physically, I feel marked by my prior life and all the incredibly stupid choices I made.
I use my own dumb past, the pain it caused me, and the way I triumphed over it, to raise my children. I don’t tell them sordid details, as a matter of fact, details are censored according to age and child) but because they love me and love who I am now, they believe me. So far anyway, and one is almost fifteen! Of course, my premise is that these are things I would not do again – regardless of how “happy I am with the way I turned out” blah blah blah. I still would like to leave some of that shit behind!
What they seem to have come away with is a clear sense that it’s important to know who they are and to listen to the voice inside of them that tells them when something doesn’t match up with their innermost self. I wish I had known that.
Linda, if your children have come away with a clear sense of anything at all I would say you are doing a phenomenal job as a mother. And anything that compels them to turn in instead of out for the answers? Well that’s truly significant. I wish I had understood it more when I was young. Understood that it took work and effort and that the effort would surely be worth it. But I am troubled by my desires to change the past because I feel quite certain it would change my present. And that is something I’m quite sure I don’t want. I struggle with the whole concept of regret. I find acceptance much easier to live with.
I love this. I especially love that last line.
I’ve always had to learn the hard way myself. I fear that for my children, but I have that understanding or peace about it too, I guess. It terrifies me, but I know that they can pull through, because I continue to pull through.
Yes. I think when you feel the burden of living so viscerally yourself, and you live through it, there is a greater hope for your children. Or something like that. Something like hope, or optimism, or peace.
“…a woman who is guided by instinct and does a lot of thinking on her feet.”
These words you’ve used to self-define will, undoubtedly, be the same ones that define both how you parent and who your children will be. Confident. Brave. And familiar with risk.
Risk, though a totally different category when seen through my eyes as a mother, still feels like such an important, powerful, and passionate characteristic/skill to inculcate – and continue to practice!
Every day seems like a risk as a mom: have I said too much? not enough? been too in-the-mix? been too distant? No easy answers. Nor were there when I was making hugely-risky “decisions” when I was young.
No easy answers, but much comfort to be found in fellow risk-takers, moms, women who don’t hide their tattoos – or their hearts.
Thank you, Sarah.
Thank you, Ronna.
And yes, I like the idea that we are all risk takers as moms. I like anything that weaves a thread between me and the mother across the street or in the next aisle at the grocery store. Oftentimes I feel so far away because of the risks I have taken in my life and the way they have defined me, but it continues to be true that if I can just shift my perspective a little bit, the whole world opens up again.
Thank you.
Sarah
Yes, all branded. Visibly and less so. Those of us who make it to adulthood bear the scars.
The issue of how much past to tell a child is an interesting one. I believe we share appropriate pieces based on age, well positioned. As you have done with Jamis. When they are older, and ask directly, I think we maintain certain necessary boundaries of propriety, but provide essential truths and their lessons. That is what has fit for me. It doesn’t fit for everyone. My kids’ father lied about certain things, and they just laughed. The more he denied, the more they were convinced what he was saying wasn’t the truth. It simply didn’t add up.
I guess we all find our place of compromise, and ways to give the best answers we can in their best interest. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Tim and I always said before we had kids that our kids would get away with NOTHING because of all we “experimented with” and the mistakes we made growing up. But I do often wonder as well how much of it I’ll share with my kids. Will I fess up to the things I did or just tell her to “trust me”, i know what I’m talking about? There’s a fine line as a parent as far as how empathetic vs sympathetic to be in what they are going through. Fessing up could lead to my kids having an excuse for doing the same things yet I want to be that “friend” who can wrap my arms around them and say, I know, I’ve been there.
I don’t have any visible signs to symbolize my past but I surely haven been branded by my past in the way I think and handle myself. We all have “marks” on us that show our true stripes… the stripes just may not be visible to everyone!
I loved everything about this post Sarah. Another peak into the true you that I love more and more with each word you write. And the photos? Gorgeous.
Thank you for saying the “true you.”
I worry that it gets lost. That others cannot really see it, even though I am trying so damn hard all the time to just be me. To be open. To ask others to be open. To have no judgments. To just want to connect.
Yes, I feel that it gets lost. That even though we say we’re one thing, there is still some sort of contest. Even online.
It bothers me. I get sad about it.
So yes. “True you” means more to me than you can know, Becca.
Thank you.
I refused to ever get a tattoo, for several reasons. The main two were: I wanted to be the opposite of my sister (who has 10 or more tats) and I wanted absolutely no tie binding me to my past. I’ve succeeded in both goals, but sometimes I wish there was a visible reminder of where I’ve been and the tales I tell. It can be tremendously lonely when you refuse to carry the past along with you.
I won’t be encouraging my children to get inked, but I will let them know that the world takes all kinds, and that there’s a beauty in pointing at the art that moved you so much and saying, “There. That’s who I am.”
I remember when my Mum first noticed the tattoo I got (oh so intelligently, at age 16) on my butt. She said “Oh, you have a tattoo.” In a dressing room somewhere. I didn’t sleep for days with the anxiety and it was never spoken of again.
I also remember one day asking my Mother when she lost her virginity. I was in High School. She replied “I don’t think that is any of your business.” To this day I worry that she will find out when I lost mine.
Nonetheless she has heaps of grace and guidance to give me which have kept me grounded even if she didn’t share enough about her choices to help me with mine. Mine were pretty bad. But I had a brain I was encouraged to use, and got through it. I just keep trying to remind myself that there is more than one right way….which may even include mine!
I have been chewing on the last paragraph of your comment since I read it with my morning coffee. Now it’s 1 pm and time for lunch and I’m still chewing on it, and getting quite hungry might I add…
There is more than one right way. Yes.
Keeping our children grounded is important. Yes. But how do we do this?
Giving them guidance without cranking the faucet open and letting it run dry is important. So how much do we let leak out? And when? And how honest do we get?
My choices were horrible. Really. Truly. The worst. I put my parents, and my friends, and my teachers, and my lovers and my…(you get the picture)…through hell. But I had a brain, like you, and I got through it, like you. And so did they. Well, most of them, at least. I figured it out, with time, and here I am now. Figuring out the next stage of Q&A in my life.
So yeah.
There is more than one right answer.
And when I look at my life and I remember how this has been so, it gives me great confidence. And an inkling of thought that perhaps I should be turning inward for guidance a little bit more than I turn outward.
Still chewing…
I don’t know that we ever have the confidence that we had in our early adult years again. Especially when you add children to the picture. The possibility of a misstep is so close.
My son reminds me frequently of how I am the youngest mom he knows. Some days it feels good to be the young and kinda cool mom. But lots of days it wreaks further havoc with my confidence.
Your tattoo is beautiful and part of who you are. Don’t count it so much as a mistake as a reminder of your journey… your children will be proud of who you are too (even if they don’t know all of the details ;).
I think this is the same exact comment I would have left if I had read this post on someone else’s site. Yup. Word for word, I’m sure.
Do you ever feel like you know the answers, but your heart sings another song on some days? Days after a post like this I feel so vulnerable. I look back and wonder why I always put so much out there. I fret about the perception of myself in the blogosphere as much as I do on the playground. But then again, I care just as much as I don’t care, if that makes sense.
But vulnerable. Yeah. I feel that way. Because I know the answers. I know I’ll never know confidence like I did in my youth. I know my children will be proud of me. I know I don’t have to share everything. I know that I won’t. I know that regret is futile and weak. I know I am strong. I know time answers many unknowns.
I know I’m rambling.
I can honestly say that sometimes sharing is best done when they are past the age that you need to worry that they might repeat what you did. With the excuse that you did it so it must be alright.
This post is making think of so many things…the tattoo my husband got recently on our family trip to Floriday (which he told me about by text) and how the image he chose shocked and makes me wonder often what it means that he did. It makes me think about own youthful confidence, a post I wrote several weeks ago, and how with age I feel I’ve lost the strength of my convictions and changed and become less of what I was. Quieter, less confident, less bold. I miss that part of me. But more than both of those things, it makes me ask the very same questions you ask, how much of my real self will I reveal to my children. I have no idea, until now, it never occured to me to think about it. I will though. I suspect though, that there are parts of us that our children shouldn’t know, parts that would change us to them, in ways we might not like. At least, I know I have those parts. It’s an intersting thing, I’ll be thinking about this lots now.
Sarah – this is such an awesome post. I am left speechless.
Although I have no physical stamp to tell my kids the paths I have walked and sometimes have fallen upon, I know the time will come when questions will be asked and I will be forced to make a choice. Tell them the choices their mama made when I thought I was invincible. As a mother, my heart cringes thinking of them making some of the same choices. But I have to remember it will be their choice to make. And I will have to remember that I will not have failed them when they make THEIR choice.
I love this post. Just perfection really.
Thanks.
I totally think it’s a “cool” thing. I have 2 tattoos and when Hannah was younger she would always trace them too but never really asked what they were. Now she knows what they are and shockingly she hasn’t mentioned getting her own. I figured she’d want to. Either way, you’re bad ass. :)
I had to come back and read your Tattoo post. I enjoy how you refer to it as a brand marking a certain phase of your life. I’ve wanted a tattoo ever since college but could never decide on one because I didn’t want it to lock me into a time or place. I want it to be timeless… hence, my indecision.
As for what to share with our children. I’ve always been very honest with my child on age appropriate levels. My boys are currently 16 & 13. I’ve told my eldest some things my parents don’t know. Once I was relaying a story that took place at a college frat party. My son totally missed the moral of the story because he was distracted. He couldn’t believe that I “participated in under-age drinking” as he put it.
.-= Erica@PinesLakeRedhead´s last blog ..It’s That Time Again =-.
I’m speechless and that doesn’t happen often!
Nell
Thanks, Nell.