So here’s the thing. I swear. Like a motherfucker. Pretty much could make a sailor blush what with my f-bombs and whatnots.
I loves me an Anglo-Saxon curse word and think that fuck is like the little black dress of language: always appropriate, goes with everything, accessorizes nicely.
Long ago, waaaay before Go the Fuck to Sleep, on those days with babies when I was pretty much light years beyond the end of my rope, those days where you’re so fried you can’t really remember what it felt like to be an adult in conversation with other adults, what it felt like to have an actual shower of more than 2 minutes, to be free of spit-up and burp cloths and back-aches, gut-aches, shoulder-aches, wrist-aches–on those days, I had a particular lullaby I used to sing.
To whichever baby had sent me so close to the edge I could look over and see the abyss, I would sing, in the softest, sweetest, gentlest voice you can imagine, something along the lines of “you’ve ruined my life, I can’t do this any longer, fucking shit, what am I going to do, I am so tired, holy fucking shit what am I going to do please just stop crying for one goddamn hour…”
Okay – I wasn’t suicidal or PPD or infanticidal – I was just a standard-issue exhausted new mom. And I had a lot of love and support and everyone survived, so it’s okay.
I offer this story only to explain that me and swearing, we’re pretty much besties.
Here’s the thing, though. My babies are now old enough to hear my foul mouth and parrot it back, not in a oh-isn’t-that-cute-a-toddler-saying-“shit,” but with full force and understanding of the words coming from their mouths. And hearing my children’s sweet voices lilt around foul language is upsetting, to say the least.
So I had to stop. At least in front of them.
I’ve swallowed hard and reserved my love of four-letter words for solely adult company. Now, in front of the kids, I say “fudge” when something drops on the floor and breaks, or “holy cats,” or sometimes, “crap.” But “fudge” has become my default word, when children are present. I figure they might know what I’m wishing I could say, but at least I’m not saying it.
Husband, however, disagrees with me. He says that the boys know I am saying “fudge” instead of “fuck,” and so I’m not really disguising anything or fooling anyone. I say I’m not trying to “fool” them, I’m just trying to ride herd on my fouler impulses. Husband is unconvinced. He’s wrong, the fudge head.
I’m not sure what the boys think – they don’t say “fudge,” but I have heard Liam mutter “holy cats” under his breath (and, truth be told, he’s become fond of English-isms: bloody this and bloody that, and then “wanker.” We asked him to explain what wanker meant, and he insisted he didn’t know – but his dimples and embarrassed grin said otherwise: he does know but is too abashed to explain).
So what do you think? I should stop saying “fudge” and say…”fooey?” or “rats?” or “christ on a stick?”
Okay, that latter is probably an ix-nay.
But seriously – even if the kids know what I want to say, isn’t it better that they hear me not say it than that I let that f-bomb fly?
And by f-bomb, of course, I mean exploding fudge balls.
I agree that saying another word instead of the word you WANT to say works fine. Sure, they’ll figure out that it could be other, more colorful words, but that doesn’t mean they have to know you are purposely not saying those words, you know? Maybe you just say what the fudge b/c that’s what you say and there’s no reason you aren’t saying what the fuck. This doesn’t really make sense. It does in my head, though.
I also am proud owner of a rather foul mouth. “This shit here”, “come the fuck on”, “are you fucking serious”, and “dammit” are my most often used. I admit that dammit is probably the hardest for me to stop saying but I have a pretty good lid on it. My son, at 2, pronounces truck fuck. Not cute when drops his toy and “where’s the truck” comes out “what the fuck” in line at the grocery store. Also not cute? That my 8 yr old was horrified (and very giggly) b/c where the fuck did she even learn fuck?
Better to say the softies – definitely! It’s not cute coming out of kids’ mouths. Oh, and I only just learned what a wanker was, by the way.
wanker is an ugly one, isn’t it? and yet sort of onomatopoeic in a bizarre sort of way (best not to think about that too closely). yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ve got the upper hand on Husband in this instance (and I think he’s arguing the point b/c his language–probably due to my bad influence–has taken a real nose dive). : )
Oh, this is a tough one! I was using Eddie Izzard’s Jeezy Chreezy, until the husband made me stop. There’s nothing worse than your little ones taking the lord’s name in vain in front of the devout neighbors. *blush*
it’s the public humiliation factor, right? knowing that the neighbors are going to be all “godless heathen bad parents…” or so I imagine…
F***, I wish I had some fudge. Laughed out loud at this one…again.
HA. thanks for the compliment … coming from someone whose blog has me in stitches, regularly, that’s big praise.
So what if they know you really want to say another word? You know and they know and even darling husband knows, but if you don’t use it, you’re sending the message that they shouldn’t either. You’re teaching them restraint, respect – okay, maybe that’s a stretch- but at the very least audience.
right. my “fudge” is ALL about audience. Ha. I love that and shall relay that comment to Husband, thank you for the fodder the next time he and i “discuss” this particular issue…
I’m with Shannon, they know your using restraint. It’s a teaching moment. There’s a time and a place for everything. When they’re alone with their friends “fuck” and “shit” all you want. And frankly, and exasperated “shit” is ok with me. But if I’m in the company of The President (the only person I can think of who I would want to be respectful in front of), I’m going to mind my mouth.
BTW, my kids first heard bad words from their grandparents. We had to have a little talk with them (the grandparents)
Ooooh, we’re dealing with the same thing. We both have colorful language, but we know when and where not to use it, something kiddies don’t get until they’re older. So yeah, I vote for substituting. For now. 😉
Holy cats? BAHAHA.
Since he’s known me, my husband’s language has gotten worse (you’re welcome, darling!) and I’m trying harder to corral my own, at least in front of the kids – but he’s gotten slack about the occasional *censored* slipping out. I’ve suggested “holy cats” (it’s really very emphatic – give it a shot) but he refuses to be convinced. I comfort myself with the thought that the ENTIRE interweb supports my position. HA.