This post contains swear words

One day the kids and I were driving home listening to Pandora Radio. We were listening to the Pitch Perfect mix because that movie is a guilty pleasure of mine. Macklemore's "Thrift Shop" song comes on. I'm so used to hearing the radio edit, that I completely forget to skip the song. To my horror (not really, I was tired and amused) my kids started singing along. At a stoplight the chorus blared loudly and then I realized I was screwed.

I immediately paused the station and explained that the song had swear words in it and they were not to repeat them. My son says, "Yes mommy." My daughter asks, "Like the S-H word?"

Let me pause for a moment and let you in on a little secret...I have no idea why my daughter doesn't know swear words. She has me for a mother and a sailor for a father. We are either doing a great job of keeping our mouths shut around our kids, or she lives in a bubble. My son obviously knew enough to agree not to sing them. Princess actually thinks the S-H word is "shut up" not the real S-H word (yes, "shit").

I am very honest with my kids, or at least I try to be. When my daughter asks sex questions, I answer her honestly. There is no birds and bees crap in this house. My husband may pale during a few of our conversations, but I'm open and honest when it comes to serious stuff. I'd rather my kids learn about sex, drugs and all the other stuff, from me.

For some reason the F word just makes me stutter and feel uncomfortable. I can use it amazingly in sentences. I like to think I'm an artist some times. My daughter has now asked me on two occassions what it was and I just couldn't say it. Until now.....thank you Macklemore.

Instead of saying it, I just turned the song back on and after the F-ing awesome part, I said, "that, don't say that!" It was so simple, it was done.

"Mommy, what is fruckting mean?"
Damn (slap forehead).

Song is now turned off so I have their complete attention.
"You guys aren't going to be happy until you hear them are you?"
Little Dude with a huge smile on his face: "yep."
Princess: "No, I just need to know what they are so I can yell them if someone grabs me."

(It is my firm belief that adults will ignore a kid screaming. However, I believe a kid screaming at the top of their lungs while spewing out obscenities, will gather some attention. If they can't yell "Fire" then they have been given full permission to cuss like a sailor while they are trying to bludgeon their attacker. I don't care who I offend if it keeps my kids safe.)

"Fine, here they are: damn, shit and the one I don't ever want to hear unless you are being attacked or are old enough to know better, fuck."
Little Dude: (laughing) "Fuck?"
"Yep, that was your one time saying it. No more."
Princess: (huge smile on her intelligently smug little face) "Fuck?"
"And that was your one time saying it. No more."

While I believe I may have been set up for part of this conversation, I did enjoy it. My parents swore as I grew up. Since I can probably account for causing a solid third of those words; I don't think I ever got into trouble for using them in public. I knew that they were words that shouldn't be used in certain places. When I was a teenager and thought I knew everything (READ - blazing idiot) I tested them out regularly. In my 30's I believe I have them down to an art form.

As of yet, Little Dude is the only one that has swore. One day he was cutting corners on our walk around this field. I decided to have a little fun and told him that the next time he cut a corner, I'd turn around and walk back, making him walk much further. He cut a corner, so I turned around.
I hear this, "Damn it!" along with a sigh of frustration.
Since he used it in the right context, it was very hard not to laugh as I told him to refrain from using it in public.

Before the Macklemore discussion, when we were giving Princess guidance on using swear words during an attempted abduction, we gave her permission to scream out the f-word.
Princess: Seriously? I get to scream it and not get into trouble?
Us: Yes. Get it out of your system so it's easier to scream when needed.
Princess looks around like she's being set up.
Princess screams at the top of her little lungs: F WORD!
Military Dad: laughing, absolutely no help.
Me: Uh, Princess...
Princess: I feel better, thank you.
At this point MD is crying and can't offer any suggestions or help.
Me: Next time Princess you need to actually scream the word "fuck." Baby steps though. Good job.

Princess realizes she screwed up her one opportunity, while MD is still laughing. Parenting as a team, my ass.

Holy crap! It's been three years!

Evidently it's been three years since my last post. A lot has changed. While there have been no human additions to our family, we have added reptiles. We are now the proud owners of 2 ball pythons, 1 red-eared slider, and a leopard gecko. Military Dad's Blog on our zoo.

Princess is now in 5th grade and Little Dude is in 2nd. They are both doing great in school. I would know first hand since I began working as a Duty Supervisor three years ago. We are going to finish out this school year and then move to Rhode Island for our next Navy adventure. Rhode Island was not our first choice, or really in the top five, however we have accepted this new move with excitement.  You know what? Let's just go with we have accepted this move.

In the past couple months we experienced the job decision, Military Dad coming home from a nine month deployment (supposed to be four month), deciding whether to rent or sell our house, finally deciding to sell, donating about half of our things, and packing up the rest so it doesn't appear cluttered. (You know, like people actually live in the house.)

If you are a civilian and you've experienced a few moves you know what the average military family goes through. An average military family moves every two or three years depending on how lucky they are with the job slating process. Honestly I'm not sure how we managed it, but my husband was able to stay in San Diego for FIVE years! Now we need to let our beloved So-Cal go for a few years.

When you move around so much, you realize very quickly what stuff is important and what is actually necessary. My mom is a big fan of keeping things. I'm a big fan of: will it make the move, how much damage can this thing take, and have I actually used it in the last year? Judging by how much crap is sitting in our garage awaiting the DAV pick-up, we fell into the "staying in one place too long" role. Seriously, my two car garage is full.

Over the next few months, most of my posts will probably be dealing with moving anxiety and depressed thoughts about leaving warm, season-less CA. Bare with me and you may enjoy reading the blog once we get to Rhode Island...and I experience seasons again after almost ten years.

Thanks for stopping by!