Affiliate Friday On Profanity: Where'd You Learn to Talk Like THAT?

For me, it's been pretty rare to happen upon a mommy blog, read it for the first time, and think "Wow, that is one clear, strong voice." But that's what I thought the first time I read Cristin of Tiptoeing through the Tulips. Cristin is a mom of a CDH kid, a potentially life-threatening condition that my dear friend Karen faced when her daughter was born with CDH 4 years ago, and if you want to see mama strength in action, check in on Cristin any day of the week. She does NOT beat around the bush, she never holds back, and sometimes you get more than you bargained for during your cruise around the blogosphere. To me, she is so damn refreshing and I am thrilled to have her straight-talking ways grace these pages on this Affiliate Friday.

Enjoy!



I considered the different approaches I could take to this subject; historical, linguistic, sociological, discarded them all and decided on personal.

My personal journey through the world of cursing.

When you are a child, you think that every family is just like your own. Everyone has a Dad who works too much and a Mom who stays at home. Everyone has a dog and a yard and lots of siblings and neighborhood playmates. Everyone wears hand me downs and has to share a room.

Everyone swears.

Swearing was something that all grown-ups did. They drink wine with dinner, they know how to write checks, they watch the news, and they swear.

Sh*t, A**hole, B***h, were probably the ones I heard most of. Not all the time. But when the situation seemed to call for those words, out they came. I heard the more colorful ones from older siblings and friends. I listened and learned.

Throughout my childhood, I fine tuned my potty mouth in the confines of my room, friends' houses, whispers on the school bus. Always striving to find that golden cuss combination that would elicit squeals of laughter from my friends. We especially enjoyed the F-bomb, having no clue what it actually meant, we knew that it was the mother of all swears and delighted in its use. Always careful not to slip when an adult was present.

I noticed my older siblings throwing around the milder sh*t, and a** hole when they were in high school, with no consequences from Mom and Dad. I waited patiently for this rite of passage, and around my junior year in high school, tried them out. It thrilled me to reach this milestone of being allowed out into the swearing world. Sweet freedom!

Having been very aware of the unspoken rules of profanity, I knew to keep it clean around certain company, to hold back the F-bomb until I knew a person could handle it. I grew into quite a discriminating expletive user.

After college, out in the real world with a real job, around real grown ups, I was realized that what I thought as a child had some truth to it; that most people do swear, at least a little. Adults do not have the luxury of throwing themselves on the floor like a toddler and having a nice screaming fit when something upsets them. Instead we have swears.

You are trying to find a parking space at the grocery store, you have to pee so bad it hurts, the kids are fighting, someone is crying, someone pooped their pants, you see the perfect parking space, turn on your directional just as another car swoops in and steals your spot.

What is that person? A meanie? A jerk? No. They are a G**D*** M*****F*****. Even if you mutter it quietly enough so the kids don't hear (a skill I have yet to perfect), you still feel so much better.

I've known prolific potty mouths of all ages, professions, and faiths; all kindred spirits.

My son's surgeon is obviously highly educated, well respected in his field, famous even in the world of fetal surgery, a professor at Harvard if you weren't impressed enough. We've had an easy, comfortable relationship since the day we met.

Before a major surgery, my husband and I were waiting and waiting to get the party started, wondering where his surgeon was as he was never this late. He finally came barging through the door, clearly angry, apologizing profusely about the delay; there was a mix up in reserving the surgery suite because;

"Someone doesn't know what the f*** they are doing."

I was taken aback by the F-bomb. Not offended in any way. I was flattered. That he thought enough of me, knew me well enough, trusted me enough to show this side of himself. It warmed my heart and made me love him that much more.

I understand that swearing is not for everyone, I do try to watch my mouth around the kids, especially the one that can hear.

I will confess though, that I look forward to my kids reaching the cursing milestone, to welcome them into the fold. There will come a day when Graham has his heart broken by a girl (or a guy, who knows?), he'll need to tell me what a f****** d*****bag they are, and I'll need to agree.

"F***** right they are Sweetie, f****** right."

On Kids and Respect: How Do Your Kids Address Adults???

Written by Lee

Recently, I was at a birthday party for a friend's daughter who was turning six. I didn't know many of the other moms at the party so I did what I usually do in that kind of situation. I wandered aimlessly trying to help out at the arts and crafts table, I watched the kids jump in the bouncy house, I consoled my girls when they were body-slammed in the bouncy house, and I did my best to start up a meaningful conversation with a few of the other moms.

As I sat alone in a chair outside watching the kids play, two moms stood near me and started chatting about education. They were talking about the schools their kids attended - one public and one private. One mom was saying how much she loved "progressive" education because that is how she was raised in Los Angeles and she believed in this type of teaching. Since I am always intrigued by different methods of education, I asked -

"I don't know much about progressive education. What is it about that type of learning that you love? What do they do differently?"

And the first thing she said was, "What I love is that the kids call their teachers by their first names. When I was in school, I never even knew the last names of my teachers. I love that."

And I was all, huh?

My kids are in Catholic school so calling teachers by their first names is out. Obviously. And actually when I think about it, I'm very cool with that rule.

So cool, in fact, that back when Claire was in kindergarten (she's in 2nd grade now) a group of us moms that hang out had a chat about what our kids should call us adults. I was a huge advocate of using the last names even though some moms initially favored the first name approach. Although we all are mellow moms who work to have an open line of communication with our kids, in the end, we decided to go with the "Mr. and Mrs. insert last name" route.

I don't know about you but to me it seems we live in a time where the boundaries are as blurry as ever between kid and adult. In our home, I see it manifested on a daily basis when my girls talk to me and my husband in a tone that I consider disrespectful. It's the one thing that gets under my skin like no other. This seeming lack of respect.

Now I know that we have a hand in this. We encourage expression in my home and believe you me, my girls have no lack of it. They are loud and spirited and imaginative and all of that is good. But sometimes I feel like it backfires. In the middle of an argument over something that is usually related to my girls not listening or doing one thing I ask them to do, there will be inevitably a moment when their tone reaches what I consider to be the "backtalk" tone. And then I lose it. And it all spirals quickly from there. Yuck.

So when it comes to my kids addressing other adults, I believe in the last name approach. I guess I hang onto it as on outward sign of respect towards the "elders" in a time when these courtesies are simply harder to find. During visits to other families' homes for playdates etc. I find that more and more parents allow all kind of adult/kid integration in the form of kids running through houses, jumping on furniture, and generally yelling and screaming in the middle of adults trying to converse. Now, I don't need the old-fashioned "Kids need to be seen and not heard" approach obviously but I think we've gone too far in the other direction.

Maybe I'm delusional. Maybe calling other adults by their last names is doing nothing to instill respect. But to be honest, I think I need it. I need my kids to be reminded in this small way that they are not on equal par with adults.

So this answer from the progressive school mom reallly confused me. Calling teachers by their first names. I can't imagine it with my kids. The thought actually makes me shudder. Blurring the lines even further. Am I so old-fashioned? What am I missing here?

Enlighten me.

The Good Old Days

Written by Amy, a mom without a blog

I remember when my mom took me to McDonalds as a special treat for having a tooth pulled at the dentist. This was a huge treat.

I remember playing in the basement with a bunch of neighbor kids late into the night while my parents and their friends were upstairs playing cards, drinking and smoking.

I remember playing Kick the Can on a warm summer night and staying outside as late as bedtime.

I remember sitting at the table by myself until I finished my dinner.

I remember watching One Day at a Time on a tiny black and white television in our family room and thinking that Valerie Bertinelli was the most beautiful girl in the world.

I remember my chore of grooming our Llasa Apso and sitting there for at least a half an hour almost every day gently combing through her matted hair. I also remember walking said dog. Her name was Cream Puff.

I remember buying my first car.

I remember learning how to play Hotel California on the guitar and being deathly afraid of singing “it could be heaven or it could be hell” because of the ramifications of saying a cuss word.

Times have changed.

Fast forward 30 years (yes, I am dating myself) and now I sit and wonder what will the kids of today remember 30 years from now ….

Their first iPhone?

Their first MySpace page?

Their first sext message?

Their parents carting them from activity to activity?

Their defiance in eating anything nutritious and their parents’ willingness to agree?

Their sense of entitlement for their first car?

Each and every one of their incredibly amazing birthday parties?

Watching America's Next Top Model on their very own color television in their very own room?

You can call me cynical. It’s OK. I’m realizing this about myself more and more as I grow older.

You can bet one thing kids of today WON'T remember is a trip to McDonald’s as a really special treat.