Profanity.
I love it. Allow me to elaborate.
Nothing takes the sting out of a stubbed toe like a nice healthy "FUCK!!!"
Nothing can express the words coming out of most individual's mouths like "BULLSHIT"
In short, absolutely no other words, "replacement" curse words, etc can express my melodramatic, and sometimes ridiculous feelings and thoughts.
I just love it. My first love. I remember clearly being reprimanded throughout grade school for tutoring my fellow students in the complexity of proper expletives.
Unfortunately. Throughout my journey in motherhood (the good, the bad, and the ugly). I have had to curb my profane enthusiasm. Oy. Doubly unfortunately, I was not always successful. So unsuccesful was I, that my children know how to identify multiple curse words. My husband and I are forced to leave the room, it is hilarious and wrong, but occasionally, we find ourselves laying in bed after a long day, belly laughing at the odd phrases leaving our tiny beautiful baby girls' mouths.
In honor of all the dirty mouthed mommies out there. I will outline the three phases of profanity as follows:
1. Too Young To Care- this stage of life is a delicate balance between good and evil. Experts believe a child can hear and udnerstand before leaving the womb, so it's safe to say my children have been screaming "DAMMIT!! Get your elbow out of my ear!!!" since before their little lungs took first air. Cute. At this time between 4 weeks pregnant and about 1 year, many mommies (myself included) believe they are safe from the backlash of sitting in church and a child screaming "Mommy, this SHIT is BORING"....point proven. You are never safe. Never. However since many children can barely say bottle appropriately, and it leaves their tiny vocal cords as a fucked up assortment of vowels. You can become comfortable.
2. Repeat Repeat and Repeat Again!! Until You Get It Just Right!!! - While patiently waiting in the grocery store line, my daughter looked calmly at me from her spot in the "buggy" as we southerners prefer to refer the shopping cart, and says "Mommy, remember when Gunnerdog played in the trash and you got angry?" At this point the cashier thinks my daughter is cute, we can refer to baby A as Bug. Baby B then speaks up, we will refer to her as Bear, and states "Oh oh oh oh!! I do! I do!!" In the annoying manner that children sometimes speak (you can agree with me, kids are annoying as fuck, dont be ashamed) Baby B then continues "Mommy said 'Dammit!! You hairy mother puck!!'" At this point Im giving my child the Vulcan death stare and batting my eyes as though I have stabbed myself multiple times in the eyeball with a mascara wand. I'm telling her quietly and nicely "ENOUGH BEAR!! DO NOT REPEAT WHAT MOMMY SAID TO GUNNERDOG!!!!" In the undercover fashion that moms use when they really wanna throw their child across the grocery store (to comfortably land in the fresh, soft veggies of course). Bear then continues on (at this point, she knows I'm vulnerable, she also knows that I'm not gonna take her to the bathroom when I'm so close to the finish line of this cluster fuck grocery store run. Kids are smart as fuck. Smarter then adults) anyway, Bear continues on, "Oh riiiiiight!! Mommy said mother FUUUUUUUUCK". Yes, this is the stage that will kill you all. Get excited for Sunday school, vacation bible school, and visiting the old folks home. That's when they whip this shit out.
3. MOMMY!! THAT'S A BAD BAD BAD WORD!!- My children are currently in this phase. I have successfully punished them into obedience but they refuse to let me off the hook. It's interesting and it makes my mother giggle like a sixteen year old flirting with the star quarterback. She thinks its funny, it makes me blush. To have your three year olds condemn you is interesting, and surprisingly, has been the most successful form of punishment for me, I no longer curse loudly in front them, and most the time, not at all. I will reiterate my earlier point, kids are smart as fuck, waaaaayyyy smarter then adults. Sometimes I dont even have to say a bad word, the grocery store has become a guillotine of embarassment for me. For no reason they will scream "MOMMMY! THATS A BAD WORD!! WHY YOU SAY BAD WORDS MOMMY!!" I immediately begin looking over my shoulder for social services and vindictive old ladies.
And finally, a little plus for those who cant get enough. The phase I have experienced only once and expect to reappear in the teenage years.
4. Under the Breath, Shit Talking- This morning, Bear surprised me. I told her she absolutely couldnt have a lunchable for breakfast. She said nothing. She gave me the signature Bear and Bug look, which without words, can force grown men to their knees in tears. Fortunately, I am impervious. I taught them that fucking look. It does nothing to me. I proceeded to make Bear some cereal, a regular June Cleaver am I, and I hear whispered words to the tune of "Shit mommy lunchable dammit" I then asked Bear to repeat what she said, "Nothing" she said, with a SHIT EATING GRIN.
HOT DAMN!! Ive birthed two baby master minds.
I wont give out names. But a family member came to me today and decided to have a "sit down" talk with me about how I treat my husband.
Fuck that. She told me I treat him poorly.
And that the rest of the family feels the same way.
Now. Normally I would sit quietly, allow that person to say their piece and move on, today, I didnt want to do that.
Allow me to explain something to all the fuck ups out there who think their husbands sole duty is to work, bring home the bacon, recline in the lazy boy and watch a game.
What the fuck is wrong with you? You think that because my husband KNOWS that shit doesnt fly in our family makes him a better father. You are damn right. Wanna know why he KNOWS that shit doesnt fly? Because I fucking told him so. That's why.
Just because you were raised in a family with no paternal figure, or a shitty paternal figure who refused to participate in the actual RAISING of your family, doesnt mean that my husband is any better or worse. My husband simply understands that in our tiny world, there are standards. Anything less than those standards, no more wife. If I wanted to raise my kids by my damn self, then I would. Without a husband. I dont need a third child to pick up after, feed and clothe. No thanks. Not me.
Which is why my husband rocks. We reached an agreement early on about what we wanted from this life, and we roll with it. Together. If I actually told him what went down today, he would be highly pissed off. Not at me. At the family member who approached me and decided it would be a good idea to make me feel like shit by explaining how my entire busybody southern family is talkin' trash. Since I dont allow my husband to sit around watching tv and eating cheese fries, I must be such a MEAN BITCHY WIFE! AHHHHHH! Poor husband!!
SO. My family, who were largely single parents, are raising kids that ARENT theirs, and generally dont normally have great family lives, decided that I TREAT MY HUSBAND POORLY??? Not jiving. My husband and I are both active participants in what our children are doing, we play with our kids, we both clean, we both work. We DONT need a pat on the back. Because what we do in our daily lives is what every parent SHOULD be doing. Just because others have poor examples doesnt mean anybody needs a pat on the back.
After all, we're just doing our jobs. ;)
Working.
Kinda like vacation from my real job.
Just kidding.
I'm a nurse, so my whole existence is taking care of other poeple's needs. Wether it be my husband's dinner, my children's potty-training, or caring for six to seven patient's per night on a twelve hour shift.
And guess what? I LOVE IT.
For me, being a working mommy is kinda like pulling two to three jobs when your single. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Looking at it from some views I've heard over the years, I've been viewed as insane, negligent (this from the stay at home mommies), too busy (this from my own mother) and generally "money hungry" as a co-worker pointed out this weekend.
I just came off a four day in a row stretch. Nights. Happy Memorial weekend to my dumb ass.
Which is why Im posting two blog entries this afternoon. Because I have been UBER SLACK.
While I was working and sleeping for four days, my husband took my lovelies to the yacht club and camped all weekend. They had a blast. I came home Tuesday morning pale and exhausted. Both my kids had sunburns and stories to tell. And I love that.
Now for the fuck you portion of my message.
*Insane- Yes. Thats my answer. In all kinds of ways. I like it.
*Negligent- If you consider paying the bills and not sitting on my fucking ass watching oprah every fucking day. Yeah, I guess I am. But let me tell you, if we compared all the amazing experiences my kids have had, compared to yours, mine win. Hands down. Every time. I spend quality time with my kids because I know how much I miss them. I know they need it. You sit on your ass and watch them play barbies without actually PLAYING with your kids. Or you take a thousand pictures of them so it looks as though you do all kinds of fun stuff with them, when you dont. I have few pictures of my kids doing fun stuff. Sorry, I cant hold a camera when I'm in the thick of the fun. It's hard to take pictures of your kids fingerpainting when you are covered in fingerpaint yourself. Get real, bitch. My girls wont grow up with the idea that their one purpose in life is to get married and sprout a thousand damn kids that they wont be able to spend QUALITY time with because they're too fucked up on zoloft to notice them. Oh I'm sorry, but postpartem depression should have ended with you long before your child turned six. Fuck you and your views. Every day I go to work, my children saying "Mommy dont go to work, we will miss you", melts my heart. In the same breath, they'll tell you "My mommy goes to work and makes people feel better, she's a good woman" If that's not living by example, I dont know what is.
*Too busy- dont go there mom.
*Money hungry- Hmmm, where can I go with this. I work part-time. I used to work full time. Full time was tough. With the amount of unemployed in this country, I consider myself very lucky to have a job. I also consider myself very lucky to provide tuition for my kids to go to college one day. That's not money hungry. Thats smart. I also dont buy new cars or nifty new gadgets just to keep up with the Jones'. Now, if you live beyond your means, you have to live with that decision. I dont. My family is frugal. We dont need the riches the world offers because we made our own. Our little family. Priceless. So you can take that Lexus you own, co-worker with too many opinions, and shove it straight up your ass.
Has anyone else noticed that mommies are becoming gossip insane, organic food insane, child activity insane etc. It's because they dont have enough shit to do. If your coming off a 7p to 7a night shift, and hitting the grocery store because it's the only time you can go without having two rugrats hindering your every move and throwing six (yes, six, true story) ICING containers in your cart, without your knowledge. Sorry, tangent. If your hitting the grocery store after working your shifts that week, and you happen to notice that I'm NOT buying ORGANIC fucking bananas. Now you know why. My kids eat dirt. Is that organic enough for you? Get a damn job then tell me where your priorities lie. You wont give a SHIT that your mac n' cheese isnt organic. You'll just be happy that you have dinner on the table that cooks in 12 minutes flat. That gives me time to read one chapter of my book, burn a cig, drink a beer AND paint the side of my house in fucking red fingerpaint. Beat that stay at home mommy.
Unconventional. Yes. Insane. Yes.
But I love this crazy beautiful life of mine.
Although my hubs and I are both college graduates, with good jobs, none of it came easy. My husband had a rough time with relocation and divorce in the family. I had the entire financial responsibility with loans and the like on mine.
But. We both made it. My husband graduated a semester before myself and we found out we were pregnant the summer before my final semester in nursing school. He buckled down, got a job (even though he REALLY wanted to move to the beach), leased an apartment (in the same complex as my great grandmother, what a doll!!!) and got us some insurance (thank you, Jesus).
We were married that summer.
I completed nursing school at the round age of 8 months pregnant, with twins. SUCK IT!!! And went to term, to deliver the two most beautiful baby girls in our world.
A gift.
Yes. We think so too.
Because although my husband and I were having problems and have continued to have spats throughout our relationship, we are doing better then many of our married friends. We have outlasted at least one of his friends marriages. With double the sacrifice and double the turmoil. Because we work at it. No one said it would be easy, or a fairytale. Love is work.
Every day we fight to keep our marriage. Every single day. EVERYONE should. Even when our life feels perfect.
Although we grow up thinking we will marry the man of our dreams and it will be a perfect beautiful relationship that will stand the test of time forever. Problems happen. Situations arise. SHIT HAPPENS GUYS!!!! This is the idea that is ingrained in our barbie brained society. NOTHING IS EASY. WORK FOR IT. The most perfect marriage will have problems, but the easy way out is divorce. So do it. Fight it out. Make it happen. Be brutally honest. Be ridiculously blunt. Get drunk together and talk about past relationships. DO IT. It makes you more human to your mate.
Some people think we had it rough. Because my husband and I were in a relationship that was quickly ending when we found out we were pregnant. I think we had it easy.
Because we already knew.
We knew it would be hard, that our lives wouldnt be easy. That we would have to fall in love over and over again to keep it real.
And guess what?
That's exactly what we've been doing.
And we've suffered from none of the idiotic misconceptions that other couples walk into marriages with, the idea that your entire life is peaches and cream from this moment forward.
People said we'd never last.
Here's my finger. You know which one..
Check us out.
