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Don't get me wrong, I'm not advising you start cussing like a sailor in front of your three year old. You don't need every other word to be the F word. But I also don't think we need to apologize if we aren't perfect and they hear us say shit or hell or damn. Or even the big bad one that starts with an F, ends with a K, and has two asterisks in the middle. (Yes, I'm talking about the F**K word!)
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| Not even if you wash twice! |
"What if your kid repeats it? What kind of example are you setting?" those stepford Moms might ask. Well, first I would tell my little darling that they don't say that word because it's a bad word. Then I would point out that I shouldn't have said it either and apologize to him or her. I think this teaches them the value of a well placed curse word (because honestly, some days just need a good shit, or dammit, or WTF?) and that even adults can screw things up occasionally. Parents aren't infallible and we should let our kids see us own up to our mistakes and more importantly, apologize for them.
I'm not sure when we decided that parenting was an Olympic sport and we all had to get a gold medal. The fact of the matter is that we're human. I can own up to swatting my kid's behind if he's doing something dangerous, yelling at them for not listening, and smacking a hand reaching to put a penny in a light socket. I'm not one of those politically correct people who feel that a spanking damages a child's psyche or that yelling teaches then harmful methods of expressing their feelings. I'm not advocating corporal punishment either! A swat on the behind every few years is different than a beating with a wire coat hanger. (I shudder just thinking about that movie!) Hearing their Mom say, "Dammit all to hell" when she drops the milk that spills all over her I-just-cleaned-them floors isn't the end of the world. In fact, that's probably the clean version of what she's saying mentally. (Of course, there's no use crying over spilled milk either!)
Unfortunately somewhere along the way we decided that parents had to be perfect. (I blame Barbie and Ken, those smug plastic bastards. Them and their Malibu dream house life.) We cannot admit that we yelled at Susie because we had a bad day, felt guilty, and then made pudding to try and make it up to her. Guilt is a human emotion and we're supposed to be robots. Cold, unemotional, disengaged robots. (Or maybe we're supposed to be smug, plastic bastards like Barbie and Ken? If that's the case, where's my damn Malibu dream house and snazzy pink convertible dammit?) Not to mention, guilt is a bad parenting tactic and we can't fess up to that now can we?
Well, sorry, but that's not me. I'm loud and opinionated but cry at really sad movies (or books, commercials, and YouTube videos). I think parents should be stop trying to be BFF's with their kids and be the parent. (Say NO occasionally. It won't kill them. Or you. I promise.). I swear but always respect my elders. I donate to charity but read trashy tabloids. I'm a mass of contradictions. But I'll be damned if my child is going to turn out to be one of these entitled, spoiled punks that society is manufacturing nowadays. Aw, hell no. Respect wasn't just a song by Aretha Franklin. They'll know they don't have to be perfect for me to love them.
So to all the real Moms who might have dropped a cuss word or drank a beer or farted in front of their kid but tell them they love them every night and spend time with them (even knowing we aren't the perfect paragons of virtue society maintains we must be), kudos to you. And Barbie, you better watch your back because I'm coming for you, you bleached beach loving plastic harlot!
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| How dare they #*&@%! swear in front of me? |
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