I must admit, there have been times when I've really wanted to blurt out something foul -- on the highway, during arguments with my husband or when trying to get the cap off of a bottle of ibuprofen when I'm particularly hormonal -- and wished there was an effective alternative to blurting the F-word.
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.
I know I'm being grumpy, but there are just certain things that grind my nerves down to the root. I have to wonder about a society that has no problem with people screaming the F-word in front of young children. Or with teenagers sitting on a subway while 80-somethings and pregnant women stand. Or with people calling others 'morons' -- both online and off -- just because they don't share the same opinion.
A really good friend of mine, a well-respected lawyer, in his late fifties, was late for his daughter's swim meet. Tense and a little bit lost, he realized he was heading in the wrong direction, so he pulled into a parking lot to turn the car around. As he drove out into traffic, he cut off another driver.
Profanity isn't shocking anymore. It's not edgy or sassy or hip or rebellious. It's just a sad, tiresome example of our shrinking vocabulary. Thanks, Twitter. People swear when they have nothing to say, but they want to talk. My feeling? You're not getting paid by the word and you're not a sailor. So keep it simple.