Tattoos

The parental units in this house each have two of them. It's actually been a bit funny when the boys realized that we didn't draw on ourselves and it doesn't come off. We have explained, lots, that they are permanent and they are not to be taken lightly. I didn't get my first one until I was 30 and Erik got his when he was 32. They are actually matching and we got them in Hawaii on the last day of our honeymoom. I love them. There are so many memories with them and I'm so glad we got them together. A few years ago, I got the kids' names in a scrolling anklet with cherry blossoms in between. I love it. I thought long and hard about what I wanted. I have absolutely no regrets. I'm close to being ready for my third one. I want a cross on the inside of my right wrist with Isaih 41:13 somehow put on it (For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear: I will help you). I read this a while ago and it has stuck with me. God is calling me to be his servant, to be a better mother, wife and person. I hope if my kids choose to get tattoos, that they really consider it long and hard before they do. I hope that we have a great enough relationship with each other that they trust me to talk with me. I hope that I have listening ears and an open heart.