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Should I die, this blog will serve as my son's source of virtual mama.

If I live, I won't have to repeat myself.

sigers writes fiction and nags her son in austin, texas. 

I want you to know that you won't have to hide your sweater vests from me.

I want you to know that you won't have to hide your sweater vests from me.

So I just read this thing about how Mark Wahlberg is going to remove his tattoos because he doesn’t want his kids follow in his footsteps.

*snicker*

The best thing you can do to keep a kid from getting inked? Give them some parents with ink. 

Your father and I, at first glance, seem like a nicely matched pair … we got a cute little alterna-rock-hip-hop thing going on. Both fairly liberal about life and tats and piercings and the like. We both occasionally sound like lost members of Public Enemy.

Fuck you, Monsanto.

Anyhow, what this means is that you’re going to grow up and be Alex P. Keaton.

Or not.

But either way, I’m not going to change this part of who I am.

I had to give up all my favorite curse words for you, because that is behaviour that you will copy. Because you are very small. But when you turn into a teenager, all you will want to do is add a little distance between the way I see life and the way you live yours.

But mostly, kids don’t just run out and copy their parents. And given all the tats and piercings that my generation has, the true act of rebellion will be NEVER doing it. And that’s okay. I will love the daylights out of your pure, untouched, uninked, unpunctured skin. And you  may do vice versa.

Listen To Your Mother

Listen To Your Mother

I want you to know that I am going to freak your grandmother out.