LaLaGirl – Twinfinite Chaos! Parenting Multiples and Dealing with Autism

Every day, I pick my kids up from elementary school, and almost every day, we spend the next 45 minutes on the playground, killing time before it’s time to pick up my oldest from middle school. So, I do a whole lot of people watching, and I eavesdrop on other parents’ conversations, and occasionally, I have a fabulous conversation of my very own! (And I live for those days. I have to contain myself, so I don’t jump up and down clapping, and saying things like, “You’re paying attention to me! You’re letting me into your mommy clique! You’re considering inviting me to bunco, aren’t you? Yay!”)

Today, I watched a guy having a whole lot of fun with his kids. And actually? I’m not fully convinced they were his kids. I’m guessing they were his nephews. Actual dads are not usually so enthusiastic about playing with their children, and they usually embrace the caregiver role in such a way that they, y’know, lead by example. They don’t wobble and shake the entire play structure by walking across the top of the monkey bars. They don’t climb up the outside tube of the slide, 12 feet up off the ground. And they generally don’t show up saggin’ in sweat pants that only cover the bottom half of their ass.

This guy looked like he was having a lot of fun. I watched as he chased a pair of boys all over the playground, up the slide, through tunnels, across bridges, and around posts – pausing momentarily to hitch his pants back up about every minute. At one point, his pants FELL DOWN TO HIS KNEES! The only thing separating his pale white ass and the rest of the playground was a pair of white boxers. And even when his pants weren’t down around his knees, they were still…um…sort of showing off the goods, y’know? Hell, he could even stand to go up a size in the t-shirt. Cover that shit UP, Li’l Kim – the kids are watching!

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I’ve just realized something about myself: I’ve reached the stage in life where I no longer think tattoos are a good idea. Now why couldn’t this epiphany have occurred about ten years and half a dozen tattoos ago?

I used to loooove tattoos, and, truth be told, I still love seeing beautifully done, elaborate pieces that hold true meaning for the owner and really showcase the artist’s talent. Unfortunately, tattoos like that only seem to occur on shows like LA Ink. You might know somebody with a really kickass tattoo. But, I’ll bet you know dozens more people with really jacked up looking tattoos, don’t you? Do any of them appear on this site? Might be worth a look!

One of my dearest friends has become seriously inked up over the past three years. Her sister married a tattoo artist, so at least her jacked up tattoos didn’t cost her anything. She has HUGE tattoos of Nightmare Before Christmas imagery, on the front of both calves and around her ankle. I think she has others elsewhere too, but those are the ones that stick in my mind. One of these tattoos was of Jack Skellington and Sally. About a year or so later, she had Oogie Boogie added right next to it. And this is when my realization really took place, I think. I was checking out Oogie Boogie and realized how crisp and beautiful it looked next to the Jack and Sally tattoo, which after only a year’s time had become far less vibrant. Besides the color issue, the lines in the tattoo weren’t nearly as crisp anymore. And I don’t think this is necessarily a reflection on the artist – I think it’s just the nature of the art itself! The canvas is ever changing, and I’ve never seen a tattoo that didn’t deteriorate with the passing of time.

I so wish someone would have sat me down a few years ago and told me that my big, bright, beautiful tattoos would look like shit after a decade or so. I probably would have used a little more discretion when picking out things to permanently place on my body. And I wish someone would have stressed to me, go big or go home. At least the big butterfly I have still looks like a butterfly, even if the lines look downright pixelated. The ladybug on my shoulder looks like a big, flat mole. With legs.

If you’re one of those folks with amazing looking tattoos, well, bully for you. You probably didn’t get stretch marks during pregnancy either, did you? Just say no, kids. That’s my free advice for the day.

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