Old Ink

You may or may not be surprised to hear this but here it is: for a little over a decade, I had kind of a wild life. I was never into heroin or crack or anything but I did like to party (ahh the Clinton years…). I should note that I managed to graduate summa cum laude from a fairly respectable institution of higher learning and hold down a series of (mostly) respectable jobs during this time. Anyway, at the beginning of the 90s, I got a yin-yang circle tattooed on my right shoulder. Totally unoriginal, right? And now, 20 years later, it’s totally lopsided too. This is very much in line with an old friend’s theory that tattoos evolve with the bearer. I would definitely say that my yin (slow, soft, insubstantial) is taking over my yang…

So, one recent morning while Hank was in school, Coco was watching Pim in her parents’ room while I took a shower. I came into the bedroom to get dressed and heard a little voice say, “What’s on your back?” Busted. “Ummm…it’s just a little stamp…” (She gets stamps on her hand at the library after storytime.) I admit, it caught me off guard. The truth is, I tend to forget about it, and the subject hadn’t come up in ages. Henry asked about it a few times when he was younger but let it go after a few evasive answers. Coco has asked to see it my “stamp” couple of times, but I just keep pretending not to hear her.

In general, I don’t think regrets are a very good idea. I tend to be in the Edith Piaf school on that one. Our choices, good and bad, make us who we are, and I’m fundamentally happy with who I am. But yes. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t get the tattoo. At the risk of sounding terribly trite, I really do think the human body is amazing as it is and doesn't need much embellishment. Permanent body art also goes against the minimalist philosophy I’ve cultivated as gotten older. But it’s not something I agonize over. Plenty of GenX parents have ‘em right? I’m not going to get it removed or anything. There it is and there it will remain. But I would like to downplay it as much as possible as far as my kids are concerned. I may be a big old hypocrite, but I don’t want my beautiful people getting tattoos…ever.

All of this gets me wondering about how conscientious parents deal with their not so perfect pasts. Explaining a tattoo to a toddler is one thing, but how will I answer questions about drug use and premarital sex when my kids are older? I guess we’ll cross those bridges when we get there…Besides, there are certainly mommies out there with way more baggage than me… There was a recent essay in Brain, Child about a woman telling her kids about her previous marriage. At least I don’t have to deal with that one…Makes a little bit of old ink seem like a piece of cake.

Sap & Sensibility

Yes, I have always had a sappy side, and I’m a total sucker for those British costume dramas they show on Masterpiece Theater. I tend to prefer the Jane Austen variety (which end in marriage) to the weepy melodramas (Tess of the D’Urbervilles, Mill on the Floss, etc.), which end in death. I think most middle-aged women with a romantic streak would agree that the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice is, well, a masterpiece. I could probably watch it once a month and not get sick of it. But I restrain myself and check it out once a year. The ever lovin’ generally does not participate in these periodic schmaltz-fests with me, but whenever he does, I swear he usually winds up misty-eyed at some point.

Anyway, was recently perusing the library’s selection of PBS releases and came across a copy of a 2007 production of A Room with a View. The screenwriter is Andrew Davies who wrote the aforementioned brilliant P&P. But I was hesitant to check it out. You have to be brave, in my opinion, to take this one on since the Merchant Ivory version from the 80s comes so close to perfection...

Anyway, I enjoyed it (mostly). The female lead was great. George was a little squirrely…but maybe that’s more true to life, right? Really, few people were hotter than Julian Sands in that wasteland of a decade. But wasn’t he just a little too pretty for a railroad clerk? But the main thing was I just couldn’t handle that Davies kills George at the end. WTF? I admit, I haven’t read the Forster, but I know it has a happy ending. Oh, and I found that I kept waiting for the Puccini (which, of course, never came).

This production also implied strongly that both Cecil Vyse and Mr. Beebe are gay. Totally fits, but either it wasn’t there or I totally missed it in the Merchant Ivory. I’d have to go back to the literary source for that one (maybe after I finish War & Peace). Next up on DVD: Little Dorrit (also written for TV by Davies). I am generally an avowed Dickens hater (the only two books I used Cliff Notes for in my entire hs and college careers were A Tale of Two Cities and Great Expectations) but Davies worked wonders with Bleak House so we’re gonna give this one a shot. I think I can even get big daddy to sit through it…

Princess Paranoia

Had a moment of reckoning when grandma brought Coco some Disney princess PJs she had picked up at the thrift shop where she volunteers. As some of my readers may know, I’m a big proponent of recycled children’s clothes. But I’m also allergic to princesses and, on a certain level, allergic to Disney. My kids have yet to see any of those movies (though I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before we succumb to Pixar…). And yet, the Disney juggernaut still manages to creep into our lives. (free toothbrushes from the dentist, stickers from the doctor’s office etc.). Anyway, in the end, I decided to take the jammies. They’re 100% cotton and 100% free. Plus, she’s not going to wear them outside. (I told my mother to give the Dora jacket she had brought home to another little urchin.) I just can’t bear the thought of my girl being someone’s billboard…

I really do find some of the trappings of modern girlhood kind of obscene. The things people do to their girls boggle the mind (you know, dressing them like little hookers and so forth). It’s part of why I find the idea of raising a girl so terrifying. That and mean girls in gradeschool. God help us!

There’s an adorable two-year-old girl Co likes to hang with at the playground. The mother seems nice, well-educated etc, and the kid’s clothes are always totally age appropriate. But… she has earrings. I have to say, I find it just a little shocking. really now, why do people do this? Shouldn’t it be something the child has a say in?

Through a little online research, I discovered that that people have their babies’ ears pierced at pediatricians’ offices. It seems odd to me that MDs would go for this. But I guess the thinking is that having it done in hygienic conditions is better than having parents take their infants to the mall or whatever. I know that it’s a cultural phenomenon in some cases. My sister is a doc at an urban pediatric clinic that serves low income latinos (her office doesn’t do ear piercing btw). She reports that a little girl could be dressed from head to toe in pink and ribbons and those moms would think she’s a boy if she’s not wearing earrings.

There was a post on one mommy message board I came across from a mom who got her daughter’s ears pierced because the kid didn’t have hair and people thought she was a boy. This mom was totally happy with her decision, as it apparently relieved the “stress” of having people incorrectly identify her child’s sex. (I guess having people think you’re a white trash idiot isn’t stressful...) I think I was nine when I got my ears pierced, but even that seems young to me. I’m thinking 16 at the earliest.

Then there’s the nail polish. Even totally respectable, generally conservative friends of mine do this…even to toddlers. I just don’t get it. Plus, how do they get the kids to hold still? I can barely paint my own toenails without getting it all over the place…

Fortunately, Co has a couple of influences which I hope will keep her out of the Little Mermaid ghetto. For one thing, she has me for a role model. I’m pretty understated on that level: I don’t generally wear jewelry or nail polish (though I am pretty attached to my lip gloss). It’s all part of my minimalist philosophy. Of course, I used to get mani/pedis pretty regularly in NYC where a trip to the nail salon was cheap and convenient. But that was a different lifetime. Also, I think having a big brother in the mix helps. It seems like the more girls there are in a family, the crazier the shit becomes. I mean, did Scout Finch play with Barbies? I think not.