Tattoos Los Angeles Ca

tattoos los angeles ca

An Ode To The Urban Warrior, The Soccer Mom

I love watching the urban rebel of the man on his bike riding in a cool outfit and weaving through traffic on the freeway. Ah the careless ease he moves back and forth through traffic getting there an hour before I do. He looks professional yet dangerous in his dress and demeanor.

As he passes me I wonder if he’s going to go meet with his celebrity girlfriend or produce the next hit song. He slows down by me in his designer coat with his leather laptop computer bags swaying in the breeze of the fresh LA air. He acts like life is his oyster and he is never late but always on time because ‘he’ is there.

As he passes me I look for just a second to see design tattoos on his neck just under his helmet. He has another one on his wrist just the right size, not too auspicious. As he slows down ever so slowly to make sure I don’t run him over he gives me a little wink with the knowledge that I appreciate his coolness.

How cool it would be to be on a bike. But my speed is more of an off road Yamaha ATV. Besides how would I fit all these kids on the back of my bike? Yes, I am a soccer mom and there is no way I could fit all my kid’s stuff on that bike.

Yet I am a rebel of my own sort, but I have a cause, to raise my kids in this beautiful cement jungle to a place of normalcy. It’s a challenge I have chosen to take and take very seriously. I have my own cool tattoos, but it came out of a cereal box and my kids put in on me upsidown.

My chosen profession is not a lonely one. I am never alone. And I see the warriors beside me on the freeway in their own quest to reach the next destination in time. We race from light to light to get to the bakery, the drugstore and of course the sacred Starbucks line. We wear our shields of denim proudly and walk with ease in our sensible shoes. We are always prepared with snacks and wet naps to handle any dilemma.

Yes we are the proud, the many, the unafraid mothers of America who will go into battle over a parking spot or sit for hours to support a little league. We will put our own selves to the side to sell nuts at Christmas and love our children with all we have. We are a proud growing race that will live on to the next Mother’s day knowing we are important, respected and most likely have a stain on our shirts.

So pass me cool urban man, you couldn’t handle my life. It is paved with fears that you are not ready to face. Enjoy your single hood while you can, because your days are numbered as well until you are in the carpool lane with me too listening to PSP’s in your ear while you brave the urban jungle yet another day.


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