Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Mommy words

I try to not cuss. Growing up, I never remember hearing my parents cuss. When our teacher told us on the first day of kindergarten we shouldn't say "ain't" I thought it was because it was a curse word. Somewhere along the way I picked up some choice words.

My curse of choice is usually shit. It slips out of my mouth without any warning. Stub my toe, shit. Burn my hand, shit. Hit a big pothole, shit. That last one provoked Nate's first curse repeat. Jon hasn't let me live if down.

I've adapted other words to replace my cursing:
  • Shiitake (I think I got this from Austin Powers)
  • Son of a biscuit
  • Oh, craptastic
  • Frack (Thanks Battlestar Galactica)
I don't know if they're any better, but I won't get as many phone calls from school. I don't need my son being the kid to teach everyone the f-word on the playground. When the teacher calls, I'll have her call my husband.

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