Bitches of two kinds

When we were planning our family, Peter was dead set against using profanity in front of or anywhere near our children.  It’s funny for so many reasons.  If you knew Peter you would know that he could string together a list of profanities that would make a longshoreman blush.  So we agreed, no cursing in front of the babies that we have yet to make.  I slipped now and again but working for a lutheran school really helped make me more, well, boring. But boring people don’t use profanity.  So I was o.k.  As our kids got older we sprinkled in the occasional “shit” or “fuck” if it was really needed, but for the most part we were pretty good. We were making good little, perfect humans. Because what will people think if my eight year old says “something bad”!

As the time after Peter’s death drifted by, people would tell me several things, one, is that we have to find a new normal and two, things that once seemed paramount won’t be important anymore.  As I was diligently working on the new normal, I often wondered, to myself and others, what is going to fall by the waste side.  What is it that I won’t care about anymore.  Sometimes the closet things are the hardest to see.  It happened, it hit me, well it screamed fucking bitch at me.  

 

The following is a conversation that actually happened between my 14 year old son and my 11 year old daughter.

 

Son: “Mooommmm, my sister just called me a fucking bitch!”

 

Daugther screaming: “Well he is!”

 

Me: Wait, what?

 

Son: “A fucking bitch, she said it”

 

Me: “ B, did you call your brother a…?

 

Son: “A fucking bitc…

 

Me: “Yes! D, I heard you.

 

Daughter: “Well he is!!!

 

Now my daughter turns to my son, as if the next thing she is about to ask is a life or death question, and says “or would you prefer little bitch because you are one or the other”.  

I could not help myself, I burst out laughing and said “O.K. FOR FUCK-SAKE EVERYONE STOP CURSING!

 

And there it was, over the course of the year my children and I have turned profanity proficient.  Not even proficient, if we were to be judged by standardized test standards we all would have exceeded with no problem.  My daughter knew, not only the context but also how to use profanity as a way to get under my son’s skin.  BRILLIANT!  But here’s the most fascinating part.  I don’t give a good god damn. My children are intelligent, funny, spunky(as you just read), compassionate and kind, just like their father.  If my children are upstanding citizens of our world that contribute in a positive manner, why should I care if they drop an F bomb here and there. If you’re reading this and caring about my children’s language, I just have one question for you: Are you a fucking bitch or a little bitch because you have to be one or the other.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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