You don’t need to judge me. I do it enough on my own.

I’m a horrible mother. There are lots of reasons, but I have a specific example of my ineptitude today.

Before I begin, let me give you some back ground information. I did have some misspent youth. There was some occasional underage drinking (no snickering you old friends) and some drag racing (not at the same time. I was never that irresponsible), I mostly focused my rebellion in the form of a smart mouth. I got my first tattoo at 18. There was a pact with my circle of friends. As we turned 18, we were all getting cartoon character tattoos. I’d like to point out, I am the only one brave enough to do it. I’ve since gotten four more, each thought out and symbolizing something specific or an event in my life. Each of them is tucked away, generally hidden from view, with the exception of the first one which is on my ankle.

I also have multiple ear piercings and a belly ring which I refuse to remove because it hurt like a *&%^#$@ to get.

I tell you all this because I don’t want Sassy to do any of these things. I did not pierce her ears when she was a baby because I wanted her to make the decision to decorate her body herself. I realize that ear-piercing is a very mundane example of body art, but still, it’s her body and I want her to be responsible for it.

She started asking to have it done when she was around six because, I suppose, so many of her friends had theirs done. I told her repeatedly that I would allow it when she was old enough to take care of her ears herself, clean them properly, keep track of her earrings, etc.

I also told her over and over, ad nauseam, that piercings and tattoos hurt. Badly. With excruciating consequences.

Then while we were on vacation last week, she saw a sign in a store that promised free ear-piercing and she was hooked.

I convinced her to wait until we got home so we’d have all the stuff to take care of her ears. I promised I’d take her today. I promised.

I never thought it would come to pass. I totally thought she’d weenie out. At the very least, I expected tears and clutching at my hands and begging me not to make her go through with it – which of course, I wouldn’t. I’d then be able to stave her off for a couple more months, maybe even a year, before the asking started up again, by using her fear against her – that’s the part that makes me a bad mom. It’s odd. I spend so much time trying to help her conquer fears in other ways in her life and yet I really foster this one. Awful, awful, awful.

Yeah, none of that happened.

She decided she wanted it done, she picked out earrings, she sat in the chair expectantly at the store. What was I to do? I promised.

I paid the $45.00 (Holy crap!) and bought her some plain, gold studs to wear.

The twelve year-old clerk in the store was really awesome. Awesome if you wanted the outcome to be pierced ears. I was undecided. I still thought right up to the very second, that she would back out.

I can’t decide if I’m more proud of her for going through with it and accomplishing what she wanted to get done, or if I’m more disappointed that there wasn’t tears and a scene.

That’s why I’m an awful mother. I was hoping for a scene.

This better not mean my baby is growing up or I’m going to be really pissed.

What was it that made you realize that your kids were growing up? Or you? What examples of horrible parenting are you willing to cop to?