Now warm she goes out the door, down the hall, and through another door trekking the same routine as every other morning. Opening up the sock drawer, reserved for the bottom most shelf, she struggles to find any matching socks in the heap. 2 minutes of searching led to settling for a light blue and light pink sock of the same design the perfect compromise.
After a brief pause and a rub in the eyes she makes way to the dresser. She stands up straight as a shadow cast from natural light greets her on the wall in front of her. Her bare feet meet the cold hard wooden floor. Eyes open and sheets shuffle as she stumbles lazily out of bed. Soon sunlight fills the room acting as an alarm clock.
She rolls over for some immediate relief from the brightness, but as the Sun creeps its way higher and higher through the sky the light intensifies. Sunshine finds it’s way to a sleepy face. So much so, that I wanted to write about it to brag to the world just how butch my 9-year old is.A eager sun peaks it’s head out from the horizon casting its rays on the leafs of patient plants waiting for their days fill. I love that she does, so I am happy to encourage her to think this way.
She gets a giant kick out of the fact that her big butch mom went to Claire's and she went to a professional piercing parlor. You are very butch and I am so proud of you. I don't point out that hers is through flesh and mine through cartilage. She laughs and talks about how mine is hurting but hers is not, and she must be so much more butch than me. I tell my baby how amazing she is and how proud of her I am. It's time for a celebratory milkshake for her and a burger. It's over and Gage is telling me I did great. But, there is my beautiful brave angel, so.
And, I am sure that it hurt less than if other folks had done it. So, Gage gets the forceps on my rook, and blam! Good night, did it ever hurt! Don't get me wrong, he was great. No, baby, I won't, I had assured her, but it's OK if you do. "You won't cry, right Mom?" she had said before. I can't get too excited, right? I mean, my baby girl who just braved the needle twice is sitting two feet away watching me. Gage tells me it is the "easiest piercing" he does. My daughter takes a seat on the stool, I didn't ask her to hold my hand because she was a little weak when she stood up - just from the adrenaline, I assured her. Well, I needed her to prove that she is responsible enough by doing something for me consistently for 30 days, so I made a deal with her: if she could do that, then I would let her get her ears pierced. After going from 2 piercings to 6 (I also recently re-pierced myself the benign second lobe hole so many of us have) in a short period of time, I decided that I was going to start losing credibility with my daughter if I continued to tow the "you have to be 13 to get your ears pierced" party line. So, now I have proper titanium barbell and balls in all the right piercings.
Hooray! The new tragus piercing hurt less than the double helix. Let me tell you, the re-piercing was painful. The gun that Claire's uses is too small for the kind of hoops that I want eventually. John, the piercer, chastised me roundly in a lovely Scottish accent, did my tragus, and then re-pierced my double helix. I am in Glasgow and I want to have my tragus done - this time at a piercing parlor because my same friend would not allow me to make what she knew was the same mistake twice. I tweeted pictures of my new metal, but did not tell the story of where I had it done. I headed home feeling not too butch, but happy with my new piercings, and the cookies I picked up from Mrs.