To someone old enough to start talking like us right away.
Fuuuuuuuuuu, I mean Fooey.
When you start with a baby, you can keep swearing for a while. The sleep deprivation probably increases the profanity usage around the house, but I imagine that you hit a point when you start to feel funny saying "Holy shit" while changing the impressively soiled diaper of an infant in a Winnie the Pooh t-shirt who's looking at you like, "dude, I don't even know, man. I really appreciate you getting those poopies offa me, tho." Which I assume makes it easier to stop cursing around the kids entirely when they're about to start talking and you really don't want their first word to be something you can't write in the baby book.*
(* My first word according to my mother: Cat. My actual first word, which my mother says doesn't count because it's not a real word: meow. I say it's a real word because why else do we keep asking kids what does the cat say? HA's first word was Bottle, which seems pretty advanced.)
Yeah, so I need to stop swearing so much. Not HERE obviously**, but around the apartment. Not that I don't think our child should ever swear. But because they shouldn't do it until they're old enough and legally mine enough that I don't get in trouble for it.
(**I may even increase the blog swearing to make up for the decrease in real world profanity, and also in solidarity with Queen of the Couch, who got major troll shit for pointing out the bullshit inherent in the whole "oh, if a boy hits you in the playground, that just means he likes you" thing. Because if random assholes think I'm unladylike, then that's one thing I can check off my To Do list for the day.)
This isn't the first time I've had to rein in my language. My profanity usage is nowhere near its lifetime high. That would've been in the late 80s/early 90s, when I was in college and listening to a lot of Guns 'n Roses.
I remember the exact moment I realized that maybe I was using the four-letter words just a touch too often. It was at the beginning of my sophomore year of college. I was in my dorm room with my roomie. I picked up my newly purchased for theology class bible (every prof required a different edition--why the hell they couldn't coordinate and use the same edition so we only had to buy one for all our required theology classes was and is still beyond me). I flipped to the back in search of The Book of Revelations for some reason. But this edition included the apocryphal books of the bible, so Revelations wasn't at the very end, like I expected it to be. I expressed my confusion thusly:
What the fucking hell is the matter with this goddamn bible?
My roommate and I looked at each other and I decided that maybe, just maybe, I should tone down the language a touch. That was a bit too much blasphemy, even for me.
And, Internet, I was eighteen at the time. So bitching me out for saying it now, 22 years later isn't going to do either one of us any good. And if, for some wacky reason, anyone comes here (to the digital version of MY HOUSE) to tell me I'm going to hell or something--I'd like to suggest a more productive use of your time. Or, as a Rush Limbaugh-quoting Republican I used to work with said in response to my telling her that some conservative Christians picket pagan/new age bookstores: Some people need to go save a whale.
So the bar has been set at 3 swearwords in the same sentence as the word "bible." Any profanity usage lighter than that just isn't that bad as far as I'm concerned. Right?
(Longtime readers will remember the Google Ads are here for my own amusement because I am amused by things like context-sensitive ads. So please leave a comment if the ad accompanying this post is particularly entertaining or especially biblical or noteworthy.)