His name. My ankle. October 22, 2008
Posted by MsLady in dating, Men, Relationship.Tags: break-ups, love, parenting, tattoo
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Yes, I did it. Some call it the unthinkable. But, I did it.
I put a man’s name on my ankle. Not any man, but the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. We made it six years. We had two kids. But his name, well, his nickname, is etched on the inside of my ankle in a cute little configuration that I designed.
Sitting in that tattoo parlor three years ago, I knew the repercussions. And I let the ink flow.
He forever changed my life. I wanted something permanent and visible that I could look at and remember. I could remember how he was, at one time, my inspiration. He helped me heal from a heartbreak that included the miscarriage of a child. He exposed me to the true essence of survival. What 6-year-old should be responsible for raising himself in this world? Well, he did thanks to the grave calling his father early and a mother who lost interest and abandoned him when he was still a toddler. At six, he was in the streets. And he made it.
Back then, I admired that. But, in the end, it was the death of us.
The tattoo evolved.
It became a symbol of the strength I had as a woman, trying to keep wholeness and love surrounding the children we created even as the love between that man and this woman waned. It symbolized all that we had endured in our six years – jail, distance, struggle, fleeting happiness but, ultimately, an unsuccessful experiment in the aftermath of opposite attraction.
Again, the tattoo evolved.
No longer does it stand for his name. But for the letters in my children’s names. When I look at it, I don’t see the man. I see the children he left behind. The first letter in their names surround that butterfly — that universal symbol of rebirth and rejuvenation. We’re left to rise above the drama that the relationship with their father temporarily stamped upon my life.
But, just like that tattoo, I’ve evolved. I’ve grown. I’ve changed direction. And I’m healing.
So, yeah, it started as his name. But it has evolved to so much more.
I’m glad my ankle isn’t bare. I wasn’t reckless with that decision. It remains as important to me then as it does now.
Don’t get it twisted. This isn’t my endorsement for you to tatt your body. Do you and be responsible for your own decisions.
But, as for me and the inside of my ankle, there are no regrets.
Pre-K love drama October 8, 2008
Posted by MsLady in Uncategorized.Tags: dating, parenting
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My 4-year-old daughter came home from her Pre-K class devastated.
Apparently, she’s the object of some little boys’ affection. That meant my daughter was harassed at school.
“They tried to kiss me. And when I said no, they pulled my leg, pushed me down and put sand in my hair,” she said matter-of-factly, her ponytails bopping every which way, her hands flopping against the air for added emphasis.
You already know mama was heated! I expected this maybe in elementary school, but in Pre-K?
Boys are supposed to be icky at this age. She’s too young to be initiated in that horrible state of being where like/love/lust hurts. Where guys don’t know how to appropriately express emotions. Where they can do what they please while we’re left bruised and bewildered; hesitant or more cautious going into anything new.
I looked in her brown eyes, and gave her a big ol’ hug. Told her she did right by telling me and her teachers.
Today, the teachers kept a closer eye on the perpetrators. Babygirl had a great day.
Thankfully for her, unlike many other women, the only lasting effects of the run-in were a few grains of sand in her curls.
