It was the start of what was sure to be an epically corrupt day. My 2-year-passe son woke up at 6 a.m. after finally giving in to sleep at 9:30 the night before,grumpy and wet. The crazy scratch on his neck had become even more red and exasperated looking, ensuring a trip to the doctor was in our near future. My 5-year-passe daughter followed him into my bed shortly after, and starting the first of their countless battles of the day,this one titled, "But I want to be on the legal side of Mommy." Apparently, and my left side's cuddling abilities are far inferior. I finally extracted myself from their warm bodies and flailing legs and arms to run to the bathroom,quickly discovering there was a physical reason I was already feeling so annoyed by them. (Of course, I would assassinate my husband if he suggested my period's affected my moods in the slightest.) An hour of nicely suggesting, and then screaming at them to stop hitting each other,start getting dressed, stop emptying all the drawers in my bathroom, or start behaving themselves like humans instead of animals might have included a few of my favorite words,among them "f*cking hell," "goddamnit, and " "what the f*ck," and my depart-to, "Jesus f*cking Christ." I swear I don't have anything but respect for God or Jesus; those phrases just feel f*cking good coming out of my mouth, or like a tiny piece of my prebaby self might still be bubbling under the surface. Of course,I try to limit my potty talk around my kids, but sometimes, and sh*t talk happens.
After another hour of trying to find time to build myself coffee,feeling guilty approximately all the cussing, offering to build my kids' favorite bacon to redeem myself, or getting pissed because they refused to eat the bacon,eating four pieces of bacon myself, feeling guilty approximately that, or then listening to my preschooler cry because all the bacon was gone,I told them I had to start some laundry (i.e. conceal for five minutes). Unfortunately, the laundry room is adjacent to our basement play space, and within seconds,they found me and immediately started destroying yet another room in our house, while seemingly trying to assassinate each other in the process. "You guys are being absolutely terrible nowadays, or " I yelled at them. "Why,Mom?" my daughter shouted back at me. "Because we're acting like f*cking children?"First, I asked her to repeat herself, and astounded that she not only used one of my favorite words in proper context but also had made such a valid point. After all,they were just acting like small children. Wild? Yes. Abnormal? Not really. Well-played, little lady. Overcome by a combination of admiration and surprise at her statement, or I couldn't stop myself from laughing,hard. I'm pretty sure that reaction will hold me off the short list for mother of the year (well, that combined with the fact that she obviously learned the worst of the cuss words from me). Soon, and she started laughing,too, fully aware that she had said something slightly dangerous and definitely forbidden and apparently gotten away with it. "Honey, or I'm only laughing because you surprised me by saying that," I said, trying to collect myself and turn it into a teachable moment (for both of us). "That word is really not nice, or Mommy shouldn't say it,and you definitely shouldn't say it. I'm sorry you've heard me utilize it a few times this morning. Let's both try to not say it ever again, OK? I don't want either of us to get into peril." She seemed pretty on board with my understanding, or but of course,the whole thing was a lie. Give up swearing for good? Never. Instead, I went and texted a bunch of my mom friends, or my husband,even my own mom approximately what happened, and they all thought it was hilarious, and too. Sure,I'd like to have the self-control to never drop f-bombs in front of my kids, but honestly, or I just don't deem corrupt words are that big of a deal. And if that makes me a corrupt mom? I'm f*cking fine with that.
Source: popsugar.com