So my son just turned 18.
He is my man-baby.
I have two man-babies. But now, one is officially a man; the other one is still just 16. But the sixteen-year-old can buy his own cigarettes because of his beard and tattoo. And no, I don’t condone smoking. And yes, I have made him go and have treatments to get the tattoo removed, sin-anesthesia. Because I specifically told him not to get a tattoo and he got one anyway.
And the tattoo removal makes him cry like a baby who lost his woobie.
This brings me pleasure.
I don’t really care about tattoos. But I don’t like to be defied. And I don’t really care about smoking because we all try stupid stuff, I smoked, and I got over it.
There are hills I am willing to die on, and they include – Impregnating people, porn, texting and driving, alcohol, drugs, and defying me.
Also, I don’t freak out if they say don’t believe in God or Jesus.
I taught them about Jesus, they know I love Jesus, but you can’t make someone love Jesus.
Go ahead, try.
When man-baby 2 came home with the tattoo, I didn’t cry or anything. I just bore a hole into his soul and then googled a group-on for tattoo removal and hauled his butt in for the first treatment. He has to pay for the tattoo removal and his Hep and AIDS test and tetanus shot.
The tattoo removal chick said, “This tattoo is really fresh, are you sure you don’t want to let it heal a little?”
No words needed to be spoken. The malice on my face was the only permission she needed to proceed. She handed him some protective eyewear, and I tried not to laugh as he screamed.
And I used to scream and cry and freak out.
SIDEBAR: Man-baby one gave me permission to tell this story only if I first noted that recently the vandals (the boy-babies) were locked in their room, and he kicked the door in with only one try. It is important the you recognize that he is a 6’4″, bearded force to be reckoned with. Legend tells that he can kill a rabbit with his bow and arrow and roast it over an open flame. And kick in doors to save boy-babies. So noted? (Idiot.)
Anyway, when man-baby one was born, he was our second baby, first boy. And we opted for the ‘band-circumcision.” Best I understood they took this plastic band and suffocated the foreskin off his junk. I still don’t understand the process. But, young and stupid as I was, when the little band and skin came off, it came off at the same time his dried umbilical cord fell from his wee belly button.
This was unfortunate.
So I was changing his diaper, and his crusty little cord and the plastic mechanism from the circumcision were in his diaper. His little weenie, apparently albeit healthy, shrunk up inside of his body from the trauma, leaving behind his bear bellybutton and lone testicles… no penis.
Hysterically, I loaded the newborn into our mini-van and took him to the emergency room. There I reported to the desk clerk that my newborn son’s penis had fallen off in what I deemed a butchered circumcision.
I. Am. Legend.
Everyone at the hospital got a real kick out of me trying to fill out paperwork, all of them laugh-snorting at how I didn’t know what sex to put on the paperwork and that where it said “Name,” I answered: John? Juanita???
Alas, this would not be the first or the last time I behaved with such hysteria. But, I have chilled out considerably.
And man baby one’s junk worked itself out. He is not a girl.
He is a terrific and brilliant young man.
And man-baby two’s junk will work itself out. The tattoo won’t magically fall off. He will have his own consequences. But, he will fall away from stuff that is pure rebellion and fall into stuff that is well thought out, and stuff that I have prayed over him… and for him. He too is brilliant, and I believe in him.
And he loves this post, and I love that about him.
Man-baby one will have junk he has to do to work stuff out, stuff he will fall into and stuff he crawls out of.
This is just life.
Now I have new boy babies, “the vandals.” And I hope the hysterics that guided my parenting in the early years didn’t scar the man babies too much. Moreover, I hope the lack of hysterics that guide my parenting now don’t scar the boy babies too much.
I disagree with Dobson in this: I am not bringing up boys, I am bringing up men.
And men need to be brought up by mommas who skip the anesthesia at a tattoo removal. Rub some dirt on it son. Yes, I will let you pee off the porch. Yes, I will teach you not to spit into the wind. Yes, I will ship you to military school when you act like a butt-head, and I will bring you quickly home when you are sorry. And yes, I will also let you eat Oreos, naked in the “cold sheets.”
Some stuff falls off that’s supposed to stay on. Some stuff stays on you’d wish would fall off. And some stuff goes with them for always, whether they admit it or not.
But that is the stuff that turns the boy babies into man babies.
May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained. Love, Jami
“These commands that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” Deuteronomy 6:6-7
And you mom as with littles… Check this out…