Tuesday, October 02, 2007
A Lesson In Ghetto
A couple of weekends ago, Reilly was playing soccer in a small town about 45 minutes away. We had some time to kill, so a group of us decided to meet up for lunch.
Our first stop was KFC. While we were waiting for our orders, we discovered a tattoo machine. These were not your cute little heart and rose tattoos, either.
These were big ole skulls, serpant with daggers, barbed wire tattoos. There were also some religious ones. I was hooked...had to have myself one of these puppies.
Everyone got into the spirit, and pretty soon we were all gathered around the machine with our quarters.
We headed over to Subway to get lunch for the adults and to apply our new purchases. We ate our sandwiches, discussed our new body art, and came to the conclusion that we needed more tattoos.
We exchanged our dollars for quarters and headed back to KFC...then over to Taco Bell (we had heard that there were some "not-so-ghetto" tattoos over there:o
I have never had so much fun wasting 2 hours in a small town (what does that say about me?)
Anyway, the next day Sydney was playing soccer in Fulton. I had scrubbed off my bicep tattoo, but had kept the one on my calf.
Me: How does it feel to have a mom who's ghetto?
Syd: You are NOT ghetto.
Me: How can you say that? I am totally ghetto now. Look at my tattoo.
Syd: (exasperated)You are not ghetto. You need to stop.
Me: If I want to be ghetto, I can be ghetto. (Yeah, I'm mature)
Syd: (she's ticked now) Mom, I don't want you writing about this on your blog (oops) or telling people that you are ghetto. What if someone has a tattoo, and hears you saying that tattoos are ghetto? You'll offend them, and make them feel bad for having a tattoo.
She totally put me in my place.
I was totally kidding about tattoos being ghetto. At different times in my life, I have considered getting one...I could never decide on what to get or where to put it, though.
I was trying to be funny.
And, while trying to be funny, I was being hurtful. I was not thinking about how my words might be hurtful to someone else (the story of my life).
It's funny how life works, isn't it? As a parent, I've always considered myself the teacher. In this instance, though, I saw the compassion and wisdom in my daughter, and realized that I have alot to learn from her.
My joy, Elsa...seeing grace through the eyes of my child. Is there anything more awesome than that? I don't think so:)