today I'm struggling for some reason. No, it's not "letdown". I keep going to look at my tat in the mirror. I can't wait for it to "grow" into me, become me, the way my first one has. Professor joked this morning that I'll be an 82 year old woman with a huge tat on my back, and I laughed. Cuz really, it's not such a bad thing. When I die, I'll be cremated anyhow so nobody will see the old fat dead lady with the tats.
The Sun loves it. He told me he wants one all down his arm. I told him, "think about cuz it hurts ALOT ALOT". But I smiled to myself over the parental struggle of accepting that your children will probably do what you do... cuz how can you possibly tell them not to? Although SugarCube told me one he can't have a tat because his father forbade it--he himself was covered in them. And I listen to the FatLady, and my own mom, struggle with separating themselves from what their mothers did. So I wonder. I kind of hope that The Sun won't turn into a piercing freak though. Not that there's anything wrong with that... we all have our "isms". It's just that one that is not mine. But The Sun will probably reject all the tats because his father and I both have more than one. So I guess I should prepare myself.
Yeah, I named the SugarCube. I tend to do that when I'm in the process of Letting Go, I think. It doesn't make it any easier, but I guess it helps me to distance myself. "No, not 'baby' anymore/When I need you I'll just use your simple name." Except the "simple name" usually means more to me than "baby" or "honey" which is something I rarely call people, I just realized... The more I care for someone the more likely I am to use their whole, proper name--not even their nickname. In some way I feel that the name that was picked for them meant something to the family that chose it. I will use the name they choose for themselves, though, if like my mother the person is vehemently opposed to their birth name, or how Mima has become "Mima." But it's easier when distancing myself to make up something, and the name usually just hits me out of the blue. The way 'SugarCube' just hit me yesterday morning.
When The Sun was en utero, I named him at about seven months pregnant. I struggled for awhile to find his name; I had many girls names picked but very few boys names. When I found out he was a boy (early, like about 5 months) I was stumped because I couldn't find a name I liked. I knew I wanted it to mean something, and then one day his whole name--all four of them, came to me. (I added a 5th one late in the pregnancy for his Albanian grandfather. And when IFKALP was disowned by his father and stopped speaking to him--because the father found out about The Sun when The Sun was a year old, and was none too pleased about his non-Albanian grandchild--IFKALP wanted to drop the name. But it was already on the birth certificate, and I refused to take it off. IFKALP even tried to get the courts to help him change it, and I refused. A name is your name.... but if The Sun grows up and decides to change it, that's his call.)
From that time, until he was a few months old, I had a hard time calling him his name. Which is OK when baby is still inside... but it was strange when he was born because I couldn't say his name. But I fell in love with him more and more every day, and now I usually refer to him by his whole name, even though he has a shortened version that a lot of people call him by, and both he and I are perfectly fine with it. But I love saying the three syllables in his name.
Anyway. I guess I'm struggling with Letting Go again. I was doing OK but it comes and goes... This week is countdown to IFKALP. So I guess things are kind of "mushed up" together. After he goes I guess I'll feel a little better....