These Children are Testing Me, Part One

Back when this blog started 16 years ago, I often referred to myself as the Mediocre Mommy. Mostly because I was doing my best but also raising children, which is hard. It was to remind myself that mediocre days are just fine if the kids are still alive. 

When the boys were teenagers, I mostly stopped sharing stories because it seemed like being a teenager is hard enough without your mom putting your business out in the world. Now that they are mostly grown, I feel the need to document a story or two now and then. You know, for my future grandkids.

Trey and I talked often about how we wanted to raise our kids. We knew we wouldn't be perfect, so we made sure to work hardest on the things that mattered most. We want them to be adults with faith, to take care of each other, to be good to people - especially those who need it most, and to understand they are capable of anything they set their minds to. 

These days we know we have good boys. Not perfect, but they mostly do most of the things we talked about. I'm not sure you can ask for more from young men at 19 and 21, so I'll not only take it but be incredibly proud. 

But friends, in the last week I have been challenged! 

Let's start with my itty bitty baby boy I grew in my belly and experienced all of my motherhood "lasts" with. Since he was about 15 he's talked about the tattoos he would get. My rule (maybe prayer, hope, desperate beg) is that there are no tattoos on his hands, face, or neck. What kind of mother tells her 15 year old where he can and can't get tattoos? Mediocre ones, I suppose!  I knew it would happen, so I just tried to put my influence in a place that had some hope of working.

On his 18th birthday we took him and his friends out to dinner, and after we left he texted to tell us he was on his way to get his first tattoo and he didn't want to keep it from us so he just figured he'd tell us. It's on his chest and a scripture, so I was supposed to like it. 

And I was so cool about it. I mean, SO COOL. He followed the rules. 

Then about a year ago he came home with a rose on his thigh. I found out later that his cousin got a matching one, and the rose is the flower for the month of June - birth month for him, his cousin, and my dad. That's kind of sweet, I guess. Again, I was cool. 

Along the way he has mentioned a sleeve tattoo. I tried not to comment on this too much because I knew my objections would just make it more likely and, also, he's grown. I reminded him of the rules. I figured a sleeve tattoo seemed painful and expensive and took a lot of time, so I hedged my bets and kept my mouth shut.

As a sidenote, sleeve tattoos or tattoos in general don't bother me at all. Seriously, you do you. I care not. I feel like it's not even a thing anymore, and if you want to express yourself in that way it can even be kind of awesome. 

But this is my sweet baby boy!

(read that sentence again in a despairing mom voice)

This kid started off 2025 by taking a day off of work to start his sleeve tattoo. A kid who wouldn't take a day off work unless he was legit unable to get out of bed, who doesn't like to take vacation, who works kind of compulsively. 

And that night he came over to show us. And sure enough, the kid is tatted up. On his arm. All of it. 

Yall. This sweet baby child has a sleeve tattoo. 

And I'm trying to be cool. I really don't mind it, but it's my sweet baby child!  Did I say that already? Goodness.

I'm sure I'll get used to it. The tiny sobs I feel inside are probably about something else.

Three notes about this. 

1) Tucker and Keaton are currently roommates. Keaton pays the electric bill. It's been freezing all week and we just learned that Keaton won't let Tucker turn on the heater. He may have a fancy new tattoo, but the kid is a cheap grandpa way down on the inside. 

2) As Trey and I talked about this, he reminded me of the things that we always said were important to us when raising the boys. Being tattoo-free isn't relevant to even one of them, and he followed the rules. He is so right. 

3) While I didn't exactly hope for this, people better not even think about saying anything bad about my awesome tatted up electrician kiddo. I will cut you. 

My sweet baby child is still just as sweet. Just a little more decorated. :)