Today, my 5-year-old daughter informed me she has a boyfriend and that this hooligan (my words, not hers) is you. Before you try to tell me you didn't know that you were her boyfriend, you can rest assured that I presumed that to be the case. Nobody would be so foolish as to court my daughter without asking for my permission first, right?
I'm not ready for Sienna to have her mom's sailor mouth, but eventually, when she's a teen, I don't want her to be afraid of speaking the language of her classmates and once she reaches adulthood, I hope to be ready for her to speak such words in my presence as part of normal conversation because the reality is that cursing is ordinary and sometimes, often even, acts as a release for pent up stress.
Grieving isn't new for me, and it's been a long, long road -- this journey of saying goodbye to my father. Ronald Reagan called his Alzheimers the "long goodbye", and he was right. Since the day my mom called to tell me the news six years ago, it's been an incredibly difficult, painful but often beautiful experience.