The Illustrated Mom

“Book,”  he said and pointed at me.

“What? No, sweetie, soy tia,” I replied to my nephew Spencer during his recent stay with us. We had been trying to get him to call me tia (spanish for aunt) for weeks now.

“Book,” he repeated, pointing. Only this time I realized he wasn’t just pointing at me but my tattoos. And then it clicked, tattoos = pictures = book. It made perfect sense in 1-year-old logic. Duh!

That moment got me thinking about Rose (who currently has decided that my tattoos are something to be “eaten” and tries very hard to do so) and how she will grow up with not only one but two tattooed parents. Well, the several short pieces in Cosmo denouncing women with tattoos, were also fuel for my recent musings too. 


Stephen and I have talked about how we might one day handle when our daughter comes up to us and wants a tattoo of her own but like with most things in parenting, you learn as you go along.

Honestly? I think we both decided to be cool about it. Within reason. She will have to wait till she is 18 and can pay for her own piece of course. And hopefully Stephen and I can guide her away from getting something ridiculously regrettable. But aside from that, I don’t think I would mind too much. I understand now as a mom that our babies are perfect but the artist in me can relate to the desire for personal expression. And besides, I can’t exactly feign neutrality on tattoos when I myself have always been so passionate about them. I debated for many years about going for an apprenticeship and have managed to keep one foot in the tattooing world even now.

I was talking to my tattoo artist, a fairly laid back man named Bubba, and he said this: “by the time she’s old enough to get one, tattoos won’t be cool.”

Maybe that’s oversimplifying it but he might be right. What if our generation of hipsters with sleeves is going to create a future generation in which body mods aren’t cool because their parents did it?

It’s just a thought and in the end we’ll have to wait and see.