I am not a casual swearer. I believe that there are too many words with more appropriate (meaning, accurate) definitions to describe things that swears are (almost) always unnecessary.
That’s why I have always been appalled at the way adults would laugh and show off their little one’s filthy mouths in public as if it were amusing. What kind of parent goes around cursing all the time in front of their children? Don’t you want them to have a rich, full lexicon to equip them with the great gift of communication? Shame on you. Shame on you for parading around your indecent behavior manifested through your children in stores, at parties and on youtube, of all places.
And this is where God teaches me about judgement. And how I should stop doing it. And maybe lighten up a little.
Changing Ellie has become a feat more fit for a circus performer than an uncoordinated Mama like myself. She tumbles, turns, stands up, does the wave, as I’m trying to make sure poop doesn’t end up in her hair, on her walls, or worse, anywhere on my body. I was doing just this yesterday when my little acrobat decided to escape my grasp and jump to greener pastures.
Off the changing table.
She’s strong and slipped right out of my fingers.
And, without thinking, I let it out.
The “S” word.
Over and over again until I caught her air-born body moments before she would have hit the ground.
Giggling, face still red from the force of falling head-first, as I examined her to make sure she was alright, she looked me square in the face, clapped her hands, and perfectly pronounced, “Chit”.
Again and again.
All day long.
In the monitor when she woke up from her nap.
I formally recant all former accusations about bad parenting.
We’re all human, after all.
And if someone asked me what I would do if a monster came to get me, I’d kick his ask, too.