This is a quote by an unknown author that I came across years ago and have since posted in this most glittery type on my MySpace page.
No truer words have been spoken…
Now, I have a foul mouth. I know this, I admit it, hell, I’m freaking proud of it! My favorite curse word is fuck. I use it all the time. Baby’s awake in the middle of the night? Fuck. Son is late for school? Fuck. Husband wakes me in the early morning looking for his keys/phone/wallet? Fuuuuuuuck. Lady driving down major road only to make a right turn without her blinker on to the same highway I’m trying to turn onto from the other direction while talking on her cell phone? Why don’t you put down your fucking cell phone and put on a fucking blinker, you fucking moron! Oh, sorry, did I say that out loud??
Without a doubt, I am at my foulest when I’m driving. My son has learned to ignore me when I’m cursing in the car at some idiot who can’t decide what lane to drive in or whether he should stop or go when the light is green, but my daughter… she’s another story.
I try my best to curb my language around her. I try to say things under my breath so she can’t hear me or change the words to nonsense so she doesn’t pick them up.
When my son was her age, he used to sit on my lap during the stale and boring hours spent in my husband’s pet store and watch me play Bejeweled or Zuma on the computer. (this was before my obsession with Facebook, Twitter, and blogging) Often times when I’d lose or mess up I’d change my curse words to things like “fart knocker” and “cracker jack” until he started using them. I don’t know what it is, but when the words “fart knocker” came out of my toddler son’s mouth they sounded more dirty than the words they were made up to cover! (in actuality, it came out more like “fock nocka” in his cute little toddler-speak)
I’ve heard that you become more relaxed with your second child. It’s true yes. I’ve become much more laid back with my daughter than I was with my son. With my son, if his pacifier fell on the floor, I’d pick it up and not let him put it back in his mouth until I washed it in warm soapy water. With my daughter, it depends on where we are and how dirty the floor is… My son would get a bath as soon as he came in from outside to wash off any dirt or germs he may have picked up from our 15 minute jaunt in the back yard. With my daughter… they say you gotta eat a pound of dirt in your life… My son wasn’t allowed in the PlayPlace at McDonald’s until he was at least 4. My daughter’s 2 and she OWNS that place! I used to yell at my husband and his friends for the language they used around my very impressionable little boy… I’m surprised my daughter’s first words weren’t “bullshit” and “mother fucker”.
Anyway, the moral of the story here kids is that this morning I was getting ready for my 11:30 doctor’s appointment. I was dressing my daughter and I stole a look at the clock. 10:51 and I hadn’t showered yet after my Jillian Michaels workout (day 20, yeah!). “Shit!” I muttered, hoping it was low enough that she didn’t hear. Nope. For the next ten minutes my almost 27 month old daughter sat in front of “Sesame Street” uttering her newly acquired word.
Mother of the Year!! Right here!!