Confessions of a Bad Mommy

Here I am, confessing to the world that I am indeed, a bad mommy.

When my kids were little, I wasn't so concerned that they looked cute, with clean clothes, designer labels and hair neatly groomed.  If they were dirty, that meant they had a good time, were outside, and learned something about nature.  This is not to say they looked like wild children all the time, but there were times, when indeed, they probably did, and I did not scold them.  Instead I would have them show me what they had done, listen in depth to the details and then we would go inside and clean up.

When my son decided to grow his hair out, I did not protest.  As long as he kept it clean, and out of his eyes, I really didn't care.  When my daughter wanted to dye the underside of her hair blue, I drove her to the store to get the supplies.  I might have even bought them, I am not quite sure.  I figure it is hair, it will grow back, it is not that big of a deal.  Unless of course it is my youngest who has the most amazing natural blonde hair ever: I won't let her process her hair beyond cutting, blow drying or curling.

When the two older ones were old enough, beyond 18, I took them to get their first tattoos.  I know, it is not a mom thing to do, but I was the one they wanted to go with them, so I did and I took pictures to boot.  Bad, bad  Mommy.  But they each meant something to them, and they were important, and most importantly, they were both over 18.  My son got a Celtic cross, along with the family name.  This sounds trendy, but actually it was his acceptance of his family name from when my husband adopted him at the age of four.  Then my daughter, who is a cancer survivor, and a lifetime Lion King fan, got the Hakuna Mata Swahili symbol tattooed onto her wrist.  If anyone gets the concept of putting your past behind you, it is that girl.  She also had the word UNLESS put above it.  Refer to Dr. Seuss' story The Lorax, well worth your time. 

Now comes the really bad mommy confession: I won't let the 16 year old get a tattoo.  She wants to get a sunflower, her sister's favorite flower, to remind her of her sister, who recently, as in last Sunday went away to college.   I said "NO".  Mean Mommy.  I told her she has to wait until she is 18, and if she goes behind my back and gets it, she will lose her driving privileges.  Which, coincidentally is available when you are 16.  I know, I know, I am a bad mommy.  Not only saying no to the tattoo, but holding the driving privileges over head as well, it is almost, well, sort of like blackmail, but since I am a mom and not a gangstser, I prefer to call it good parenting.  Now pass the M&M's, we all know they really represent Mean Mommies!