The Dirty Mouths of Babes

So, I detonated the dream bomb last week… After all of my freaking out and paper bag breathing, everything was okay, nobody pointed an laughed at me (at least not publicly), and you were all so sweet and supportive about it I wanted to cry. I didn’t though, which I feel is a step in the right direction considering my proclivity for unnecessary waterworks.

In case you’re wondering, the update is that I need to have 4-5 minutes of material ready for my open mic debut. Holy hell!!! I’m a talker, as everyone knows, but that just seems like a daunting amount of material to prepare… Freaking out again? No, not yet, but trust me I will be soon. I’ll occasionally update you all on this stuff, and until then rest assured that I will be entertaining (???) you with my semi-coherent ramblings about whatever pops into my little brain.

Anyway…

This week it has become painfully obvious that my children love to curse (in our house this includes the words “fart”, “shut up”, “stupid”, and many other staples of childhood humor). They love it more than anything in the world. If they had to choose between the lives of their beloved stuffed animals (which have all been named, imbued with sparkling personalities, and dubbed their “children”), and never uttering another curse word, they would choose cursing without hesitation.

I can’t explain it. I have absolutely no idea why they derive so much satisfaction from using the “forbidden” words they know shock and humiliate their mother. I don’t roam around my house like some sort of deranged sailor (that’s my husband, haha), dropping f-bombs like socks out of the laundry basket. Is that even a saying or did I just show my frump again? I know that most kids end up saying a naughty word at some point, much to the horror/ashamed amusement of their parents, but this is something else… This isn’t casual experimentation with language… This is… Gleeful.

I am by no means saying that my kids curse all the time. They don’t at all. What I am saying is that when they do, they enjoy it. Those kids savor curse words like I savor five minutes of peace and quiet.

Why?!? Why do they love it so much?!? Is it because they are 1/2 sailor on their father’s side? Is it in their DNA? Do they somehow sense that once upon a time I, too, thoroughly enjoyed peppering my sentences with those four-letter gems when my mother wasn’t around? Sorry Mom, but I did. I, at least, had the decency to wait until she wasn’t around.

Lord knows I have curbed my tongue since having children to a painful degree, and I feel my self control should have earned from my girls at least some modicum of shame when they pop off with a swear. I mean, seriously, nobody wants to scream, “Cheese and crackers!!!” when they stub their toe. Nothing takes the pain away like a well-placed cuss word.

So you might be asking yourself how I came to this horrid conclusion in the first place. The sad answer would be that when my kids accidentally cuss, they don’t gasp in horror nor do they even look guilty. They glance slyly at one another and burst out laughing. They laugh their little guts out. They literally hold their sides, roll around on the ground, and chortle until they can barely breathe. It is beyond appalling.

Each time it happens, I lecture, reason, beg, put them in time out, take away their dessert, tell them their Grandparents would be horrified, or take away toys, and nothing seems to make it any less funny. I am at my wit’s end (apparently it is quite a long wit because I have been teetering on its end for quite some time now). In fact, I get the distinct impression that punishment adds to the mystique and hilarity of cursing. This has led me to ponder the obvious… The unthinkable… The punishment that must not be named…

THE DREADED SOAP!!!

When I cussed as a child (when I got caught anyway, haha), that is exactly what happened to me. And everyone else my age. I will never forget the taste of that blue Dawn from the bottle. It tasted so wretched it had to have cleaned every word that came out of my mouth for at least a month. I have to say, it worked like a charm. I only remember ever having to taste that soap one time.

So the question is… Could I? Should I? Do I dare apply this punishment to my babies?

Uh… No.

I just can’t do it. I don’t have it in me. I can’t imagine putting soap into one of their tiny little mouths. I mean, they kiss me with those mouths. That’s not to say that I think it’s wrong to do… I mean, I got soap in the mouth and look how great I turned out! I’m just saying I’m a weenie.

So, for now, I will have to comfort myself with time outs, lengthy lectures on decorum, and the saying “therapy helps, but screaming obscenities is faster and cheaper.”

That being said, I am seriously considering shipping them off to the Cuss Control Academy. It’s a real thing, look it up.

Hope you all have a wonderful week filled with fun and laughter that is not induced by saying words you know you shouldn’t.

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One thought on “The Dirty Mouths of Babes”

  1. Mandy, you are so cute! I, too, had the soap when I was a kid. However, it was not by my mom or dad. Who washed my mouth out with soap? Well, as it happened my mom told me if I didn't stop (mouthing off) that she was going to wash my mouth out with soap. She never had to, because I beat her to it. Yes, I washed my own mouth out with soap. What an angel I was.

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