Tattooed Parents- we're just like the rest

As hard as we all try to be open minded and reign in the urge to judge there are many stigmas that society still holds fast to. One that affects me specifically is the bias that still exists toward people with tattoos. No, I am not talking about the cute little heart on your ankle or the butterfly on your hip as society seems to have gotten over those. I'm talking about people who have devoted their bodies to art. 

Hubbs, Bub, and I went on a family vacation to Disney World this year with grandma and grandpa (his parents). It was our first vacation together and we got stared at. I'm talking full on open mouthed gawking, pointing, and whispering. People visiting the world of Disney even looked angered and offended by us, especially when pushing little man around in his stroller. Apparently it was bad enough that we were tattooed, but adding offspring to the mix was completely outrageous. I wasn't really surprised.

Now, I'm really not all that far along on the road to being a thoroughly tattooed female. I have six. I intend to have a sleeve, a half sleeve, at least one lower leg sleeved (socked?) and one finger. However, 98% of my tattoos are clearly visible when it its winter. I also have a septum piercing and a tongue piercing as well as a couple others. There's barely a part of Hubbs left un-inked. He would literally have to be wearing a full hazmat suit to conceal them all, and he also had 1 1/4 inch gauge tunnels in his ears. We get looks wherever we go. 

What I don't understand is...what is the big deal? Tattoos are much more widely accepted today than they were even eight years ago when I first sat in the chair. But they are still deemed 'unprofessional' in many circles and cause people to give you a wide berth on the sidewalk. And people with tattoos are just that- people with tattoos. I understand that not too long ago there were serious crime/gang associates almost exclusively linked with tattooing, but this is the 21st century and having tattoos on my chest doesn't make me a bad person. I'm actually a pretty good person. Up until my recent hospitalization I was gainfully employed at a respectable business, I paid my bills, and took care of my family. My time was devoted to going out of my way to make other people happy, and every once in a while I indulged in a tattoo session to give myself a little happiness too. 

I've heard outrageous stories: mothers pulling their children away from guys with tattoos and telling them, "stay away from dirty bikers," and seen fathers step in front of their children, acting as shields, from a woman asking for directions. Really? That 'dirty biker' was at a fair with his family and an active participant in children's charities.  Color is only skin deep. A narrow mind permeates your entire being. 

Hubbs really has it worse than I do for the time being. He's an intimidating figure as it is at a brawny 6'2. But people see his tattoos- head to neck to knuckles to legs- and they back away, never mind that he is often described by little old ladies as a sweet, polite, and gracious gentleman. He works in the service industry and encounters all kind of people on a daily basis, walking into their homes to fix whatever has gone wrong. He is always first met with wide eyes and an instantaneous narrowing of the door opening, but he is the one that people always want coming back because he is a kind, respectful man. He is the one who will drag an older customer's garbage cans to the sidewalk without being asked, he'll fix the shower head even though it isn't his job, he'll play with your dog and talk to your kids. Every week he mows the lawn of our neighbor across the street because she is older and he doesn't want her to have to spend her fixed income on a landscaper. 

We are active, loving, attentive parents. We play at the park, we only employ a babysitter for work emergencies, and our kid is well mannered, patient, and well behaved (even though he is out of control spoiled). We often get complimented on his good behavior (and awesome array of fedoras). We have many friends who are also tattooed parents and they are all loving, wonderful, colorful people. I know that there are those who are tattooed and do not fit what I am saying, but that has nothing to do with their body art and everything to do with who they are as a person. Like I said, we're just people, same as everyone else out there. 

So keep in mind the next time you see a tattooed mom or dad, that they may be a few different colors on the outside, but on the inside we're still all the same. 

You've Got To Be Kidding Me- A Quickie

I'm doing a short one tonight and posting from my phone because that's what happens when you do favors for your friends. This wasn't what I was planning on writing today, however it's been on my mind all day long.

I've mentioned that Hubbs and I have the baby four days a week. The other two or three days he's usually with his Aunt Lisa. Baby Mama usually sees him about once a week. Well...

Last night I went with Conner to the bathroom because even though he's fully potty trained he still always wants company. He took off his shorts to pee and when he was done I grabbed them to help him put them back on. And then I noticed that he wasn't wearing underwear. He got dropped off to our house without any underwear on. 

Now..other than the fact that he wasn't wearing underwear, he had a bad rash on his butt because he has eczema and allergies and has super bad skin. We combat this with a host of skin creams and allergy medicine as well as also trying to make sure that he is in clean, cotton clothes. 

So I asked him why he wasn't wearing any underwear. "Mommy and Shaun and Aunt Lisa didn't have any underwear for me." 

"Oh, well lets go put some on." 

"I'm so glad you always have underwear for me Jennimamma!" 

Of course I do. Because I do your laundry and make sure you have clean clothes. I don't constantly drop you off in dirty clothes, sweats and long sleeves in the summer time, or shirtless in the dead of winter. Because I love you. 

Seriously. Am I overreacting? Am I under reacting? Hubbs constantly tries to tell her to get her act together. This past winter we bought him two winter coats and both were lost and never seen again.  He had pneumonia as a three year old. His mom is going to school to be a nurse. What the hell is going on? It isn't rocket science. He's a baby, you have to take care of him. He is more important than you are- forever and always. 

Any stepmoms out there deal with this? Any moms who have this problem with their ex? It'd be cool to have some legit feedback. 

Obligatory About Me and Some Background

I'm a 26 year old lady living in New York who never in a million years imagined being a stepmom. And then it happened and I just sort of rolled with it. We're an untraditional family- tattooed and pierced parents, unmarried but married, bouncing around the most intelligent 4 year old I have ever come across.

Hubbs and I met by accident, though after the fact his then-best-friend maintains the spur of the moment meeting was planned from the beginning. He didn't speak to me the entire time. We began dating and were inseparable. Even apart, we were constantly together, texting throughout the day from 'good morning' to 'good night'. I won't pretend that it was love at first sight- the week before I suffered a bad breakup and was not fast looking to become involved in another relationship. It just happened. Before a month had passed he told me he loved me, and I full-heartedly reciprocated.

It was two months into our relationship before I met Conner (bub, chubb, the fat kid, the baby). I remember being so nervous for the beach day that we had planned. But, as Hubbs recently told me, "it was love at first sight for you guys." And it was. We were inseparable at the beach. He had turned two only a couple months prior and he led me around the beach by the hand for hours. He cried when it was time to leave and fell asleep in the car on the way home. When he awoke he asked his mother, "where's Jenny?"

Hubbs and I moved in together after 3 months. I guess that's where it all really takes off. We quickly transitioned from being 'just' boyfriend and girlfriend to something more, which I was unable to put a name to for a long time. We had Conner every weekend and I missed him whenever he wasn't around.

It was one day at the park when Conner innocently gave us the title which I had been unable to put a name to. Another little boy asked if he wanted to play and Conner, being the shy boy he was until about 4 months ago, declined saying, "no, I'm playing with my family." I almost cried when he said it- tears well in my eyes when I think of it now. It was amazing.

I asked Joe on the way home about it. "Do you think of us as a family?"

"Yeah I do. I don't think of you as just my girlfriend. You're a part of our family. The three of us are a family." It was sincerely one of the happiest days of my life.

Currently, we have Conner 4 days a week. The three days that he isn't with us, while always wonderful because Hubbs and I are together, just aren't complete.