I swear a lot.
A fuck of a lot.
Most people swear, I know, but I like to think of myself as a vulgarian. One of the last True Vulgarians. My friend Tracy and I are the last of this dying breed; we string together profanity as naturally as a stoned hippy strings beads. Not many people live in a Cockafuckatropolous, but by god, I do.
I have come by my swearing honestly enough: Dad was an electrician and dabbled a bit with the profanity himself. He once called my brother a "Bastardass" and liked to come out with things like "Holy Jumpin' Syph'd up Christ!" Truly, the genes come from his side. Nursing brought me to a whole new level of profanity. I didn't start using the "C" word (yes, THAT one!) until I became an RN... now I let it fly with an alarming frequency. I used to go into the med room and kick things and swear my head off. Now I have my "own" office. Unfortunately, there is a big window and some of my patients can read lips. Whatfuckingever.
Now I'm a MOM. I tried really hard when he was a baby to tone it down, but I always managed to rationalize it by "he's too little to understand". Now he repeats things like a demented parrot and I'm still trying to clean up my act. The other morning at breakfast was a perfect example. Hubby made Eggs Benny (yay!) and the Hollandaise ladle was there for any takers. Quinn gave it a good go and then offered what was left to his Dad. "Lick it, Daddy!", he said, innocent eyes shining. "Yeah! Lick it up, Bitch!" is what flew out of my mouth.
It hung in the air like a shot duck before it plummeted to the table. Without missing a beat, my son said "Yeah Daddy! Lick IT UP BITCH!!". Yes he did. My darling little cherub, with his eyes still shining, repeated it at the top of his lungs, with the window open. Over and over and OVER again for no kidding, 20 mins.
He already calls Schoolhouse Rock "The Grown Up DVD". When Children's Aid finally comes to the door, I know how this is going to play out... He learned the phrase "lick it up bitch" from Mommy and Daddy and then we all sat down to watch the grown up movie. We're fucked.
I can't drink that much any more, but you better believe that there are days when it calls. Loudly. That's why I was so happy to find my latest addition to my recomended read list: Moms Who Drink and Swear. It started out as a Facebook group (one that I will be as sure-as-shit joining as soon as I get home) and swelled quickly to the monster it is now. It is funny. There are T-shirts.