I Swear

Contents may offend. Proceed with care.

My 8 year old twin girls have a new catchphrase. It is “What the H?”

Not “What the hell?” or “What the heck?” They actually say “What the H?”

I think they started off saying “What the heck” but were convinced by a family member that this was just like saying “What the hell” which is bad apparently.

It is funny to hear their first innocent attempts at swearing. I know it shouldn’t be funny, especially as a mum who is trying to set a good example for her kids.

Swearing can be a bit of a grey area though, and I’ve never read any advice about it. People just have different standards and make up the rules as they go along - like parenting in general really.

It was not a grey area when I was a kid though. It was a completely no-go zone. My mother could really display her wrath if we dared swear. (Even when I innocently asked her what a particular Samoan word meant.)The irony was that one her favourite movies is Beverly Hills Cop. Who can blame her? It’s a classic - but it contains several F-Bombs.

Recently my dad sheepishly confessed to me that he swore in front of my kids.

“Oh dear!” I said, feigning shock. “What did you say?” (That is – “What can I blame on you later?”)
“I said ‘bloody’” he confessed.

“Oh, is that all.”

Little did he know that his two year old grandson was saying “What the f@#k!” at one point after a certain Huz, I mean a certain person said that in front of him. Even though it is hilarious hearing a toddler say “What the f@#k” - I realise it is also completely wrong. (So please stop judging me.)

The rules and standards around swearing continue into adulthood and like a lot of things, it can be linked to childhood. I have a funny story to illustrate this. (Brace yourself.)

I don’t really say ‘f@#k, as in my upbringing it would literally result in having your mouth washed out with soap.
(By the way, I don’t know why I bother typing ‘f@#k’ because we all know that when you see ‘f@#k’, you are not reading ‘F-at sign-hash tag-k’. You are reading, well we know what you are reading. But I will keep up the polite pretence.)

So as I was saying even though I don’t often use that word, there is another word, that I did not hear until I was an adult, and I didn’t realise that some people find it even more shocking than ‘the F word’. Not until I encouraged someone to tell a story that involved this word.
"Tell the c@#t story!" I said.
I really made an impression.

The word that I find most hurtful is ‘bitch’. I have been called that twice in my adult life (to my face anyway) in very different circumstances and both times it felt like a knife to the heart. Strangely though, I don’t have much of a problem hearing it in movies or on TV, so it is not the word itself that is offensive.

On a similar note, I barely find the word ‘shit’ offensive at all. But I do not want to say it around my kids.

When it comes to ‘the F word’ there is definitely only a certain number of times I can hear it in a movie until I feel like my ears are being polluted. I call that the Beverly Hills Cop Barometer.

The phrase that I find most offensive is when people use ‘Jesus Christ’ as a swear word. When I hear that, I secretly whisper “Is Lord”. However, I often say “Oh Lord” so what is the difference? Well, in my heart I know that I am actually crying out for help, but I suppose other people may not know that, others may think I am swearing. So does that mean I should stop saying it?

So you see, it is quite complicated this swearing business.
When does a swear word become a swear word?

Is saying “What the heck?” really as bad as saying “What the hell?” because the intent is still there? If that is true then I am doomed to failure. Some of my favourite phrases would be treated as swear words because instead of the stock-standard curses, I revert to a long list of alternatives; which include Crickey Malikey, Monkeys, Jeez Louise, Scheisse, Crap, Fudge Nugget, Buggery Bollocks and more.

When I swear, I am usually stressed and these words and phrases kind of cheer me up in a weird way. Are they that bad? Ok Buggery bollocks is pretty bad, but are the others really that bad?

I long time ago someone challenged me regarding this very subject.

I said “Oh fudge!” in front of a lovely Christian girl who then said to me, “Why do you say that? Don’t you know that it is just as bad as the other word because of the way you’re saying it?”

Being far too cheeky for my own good, I replied, “You’re right. Oh fuck!”
It turns out she was wrong. “Oh fudge” was much better.
She was not amused but I thought it was funny as H.
 

 

When the cat's away...the mouse has no life

This week I have had the pleasure of being able to do a 'Macaulay Culkin'. Not the person you understand. Not someone like that person either. Crap let me just rephrase.
 
This week I have been home alone.
 
My four little ones have been away with their amazing grandparents (I have to say that to try and get them to take the kids next school holidays). Anyway, as I was saying, the kids have been away with their unbelieveably incredible grandparents while The Huz has been away for work.
 
Now you would think that when a fun and vibrant young woman is given a week to herself she would make the most of it by catching up with friends, tinkering around the house, perhaps taking time out to spoil herself with a massage or some shopping. I am certain that a fun and vibrant young woman would do that.
 
I did not.
 
I am a sometimes fun, often tired 33 year old woman. I know that's not many years - but I feel each and every one of them. And quite frankly, this time away from my family has been terrible for my self-esteem.
 
As a working mother it is so easy to blame the messy house, the loss of friendships and the lack of time for yourself on the kids. So a week on my own should have been the perfect opportunity to get a life.

But my week has been filled with work, more work than usual actually, and I am kicking myself over the lost chances to do the things that I complain about not having time to do.
 
The house is still a mess, I have not been to the gym this week, and the only friends I have seen are the ones I work with. Not that that is a bad thing, but I have only seen them at work. There have been no after work drinks or dinners. There has been NO going out and having fun!
 
Perhaps these things don't actually happen. Perhaps TV and movies and even friends have been lying to me. Maybe I have been carrying around the mistaken belief that when I go home I am missing out on something.
 
The thing is I have been married since I was 19 - that is 13 years of my short life. I would not change that for the world but it does mean that I do not know how the other half lives.
 
The other half being singletons. Or even couples without children for that matter because I have not known that life for over 8 years.
 
My assumption (and perhaps fantasy) is that after work these people meet up with friends at a different place each night - perhaps your friend's place, perhaps your's, perhaps the newest restaurant. Or even 'your place' that you guys always hang out at. You know the one. You've got your own booth. The staff know your names and your drinks. Last Christmas you even hung out their till the early hours sharing stories, laughter, gifts, eggnog and there wasn't a single child around to ruin...Sorry the fantasy is going too far. Moving on.
 
Perhaps after dinner you go to a concert or a comedy show. Or you just go home to your lovely, clean, streamlined, trendy house and have a bubble bath with a glass of wine before going to bed so you can get up early and go to the gym.
 
That is the life you single people lead right? It's probably even better for you young childless couples because you get the sex as well. And you're allowed to be loud. Bastards.
 
So you can imagine my dissapointment at the week I have had.
 
I went to see Iron Man 3.

It was great.
 
The end.
 
But wait  - that is not the end because don't even get me started on the food side of the week! How the heck do you cook for just one person? I have been living on crackers all week!
 
I know that at the heart of this problem is poor time management.
 
I could have easily got myself organised and arranged to have dinner with friends, planned a special meal just for myself and gotten a facial. But instead I worked a lot, did not clean the house, baked a cake for my wonderful workmates (I had a lot of love stored up that needed to be released), watched a lot of YouTube and wrote this blog.
 
The week has flown by and at the end of it I am left with the knowledge that my lack of social life and my messy house is my own fault and no one elses. How dare that family of mine get me to come to that realisation! They will be in so much trouble when they get home, which will be pretty soon. And it won't just be them walking through the door. They'll bring with them all their luggage making the house even more messy, their dirty clothes for me to clean, the peace and quiet will be scared away by talking, fighting and screaming, and any time to myself that I was able to appreciate will be gone!
 
They are all back tomorrow. I can't wait!