Wednesday, August 20, 2014

To Use the F-Bomb or Not

I have a love/hate relationship with the F-bomb.

Let me begin by saying that the proper parts of me have selected to raise my children in a home where it is not acceptable to use language like "shut up," "fart," "hate," or "My God." 

I prefer that you say, "be quiet," "toot," "strongly dislike" or "My goodness."

My grandmother once told me that those who use expletives are crass and have a less sophisticated vocabulary upon which to draw from to adequately describe their current state.  Don't be one of those, people, Kelly.  We didn't raise you in a barn.

Consequently, I am diligent about not cursing in front of my kiddos and you'd have to kill me before I did it in front of someone else's child.  It's just not appropriate.

But there is another very big part of me that loves the shit out of calling people ass hats, mother fuckers, deusch bags, bee-yatches and twats.  Yep, my blood pressure elevated even as I typed that.

It just feels good.  Most of the time, it's the only language that does adequately and sometimes, perfectly nail the situation or the person's character.

And so, it was with disdain and humor that I found myself in my daughters' bedroom last night in a precarious spot.  Kate (7) and Claire (3) were busy making bead bracelets to share with friends and as I was putting away laundry, I slipped on some of the straggling beads and landed on my back.

"Jesus Fucking Christ!!!" I yelped.

Oh dear God...Hail Mary Full of Grace, the Lord is With Thee...Bless me Father for I have sinned.

I stood in utter shock and what I had done...only to hear my 7-year old say, "Mama, you should never take Jesus' name in vain.  That's a really bad thing." Insert the dialogue window of my thoughts, "I knew I should have never sent those kids to Catholic schools.  Damn it."

"Mama, words matter.  You need to spend some time thinking about what you say."

And just like that, I was fucked.

Kate was and is right.  Words do matter.  They carry gravity and power.  We must be diligent about what we choose to utter to the universe.  But, fuck, that hurt. 

And so, I'm stuck.  Do I teach my kids that sometimes, a good, "Fuck you" is appropriate?  Or, do I do what my parents have done which is to teach me that you should poke yourself in the eye before you ever curse around your elders.  And that cursing is for those who don't know better.

There's got to be some happy medium, right.

Aw fuck it.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.