Parental Guidance Suggested

I’ve never really been one to use vulgar or obscene language.  My mom did not raise me like that, right ma?  But now I have kids.  And kids are jerks sometimes.  And kids make you want to curse.  It’s really a Catch 22 because the miniature diabolical creatures make you want to fire off a string of obscenities but you know that it’s “not appropriate” to teach them such language.  Enter Mommy Tourette’s.

I first became aware of this phenomena back in June.  It was my first legitimate ‘girls weekend’ since having my first child six years prior.  The first time I was away from my kids and with only my best girlfriends.  If you care to read about that trip, please see “As You Were.”

Anyway . . . I left my kids with my husband on a Wednesday afternoon and travelled to meet my friend at a hotel near the airport we were flying from early Thursday morning.  As soon as I saw her, the floodgates opened and I pummelled her with a string of words so vulgar even I couldn’t believe what was coming from my mouth.  It was as if my tongue was on auto pilot.  My brain wasn’t concocting these sentences, there’s no way I was capable of such obscenity.  She came back with a string of better insults and we were liberated.  We put on pajamas, poured a big glass of wine and watched TV until we fell asleep.

While that was the first time I recognized Mommy Tourettes as a ‘thing,’ it certainly wasn’t the first time I had an attack and there have been several episodes since.  I call it “Mommy” but we all know that this affliction also effects dads, babysitters, teachers, daycare workers, sports coaches, probably grandparents.  Anyone that has regular contact with small humans is in danger of catching this.  And yes, it IS contagious.  But actually, once you discover you have it, you don’t want a cure.  It feels good.  It just feels. So. Good.

Now, when my kids are around and behaving fairly well, not fighting or trying to rip down curtains, break anything, etc., I do my best to stick with words off my “safe list” if anything suddenly goes wrong.  We all have a “safe list,” right?  If you don’t, I suggest you make one.  It’s basically a list, whether written or tucked away in an increasingly larger part of your brain, where you identify “modified curses.”  On this list should be several words or phrases that will express your disgust, anger, disappointment or any other negative emotion without having child services called for verbally abusing your children or simply fostering a hostile living environment.  I’ll give some examples.  When an individual does something I don’t necessarily like, I can call them a “son of a nutcracker.”  Yes, this is from “Elf” with Will Ferrell.  I’ve heard others use “son of a bee-sting.”  This works equally as well to express anger.

Just the other day, I was trying to fix the bamboo shade in my living room. You know the kind that rolls up as you pull the strings?  But it’s three strings and you have to pull them all at the same time or one end goes up while the other stays put, then you have to hold tight onto the one string that has actually done its job so that you can pull the other one or two to catch up, but it’s not obvious which string controls which portion of the shade so you end up pulling up the one side even MORE, and finally start getting frustrated and then you pull the correct string but for some reason it won’t budge so you end up with a mini rug burn on your fingers or maybe even your palm depending on how seriously you are fighting with that string – were you expecting a fight that you could win with just two fingers?  Or was this a full-on fistful of string tug of war?  So, you know the kind of shade I’m talking about?  Good. Well, I had a little trouble getting it to cooperate, so I let out a loud “FARTS!”  I’m sure you can imagine this wasn’t THE F-word that I truly wanted to say, in my heart and deep down to my soul, I really wanted to belt out a melody of the “other” F-word, but my kids were in the room, had to take a word from the safe list.

I would also recommend using curses from other cultures to put on your safe list.  This way, you can teach your kids tolerance and appreciation for differences while not reaaaaaaally doing too much damage.  For example: “bollocks,” traditionally used in Britain to express disgust, it also means “testicles,” but not many people know that, my kids certainly don’t.  I also like the German “scheisse” (shy-zuh).  It means “$hit” but, really, are we gonna get mad at our kids for pro-actively embracing the learning of another language?  I’m not, as long as she promises not to say it in school. Actually, anything German may be appropriate, even saying “danke shoen” in a mad voice will get across your message.  Though it means “thank you,” German has so many of those hard sounds that will satisfy your vulgarity pallet.  Your welcome.

I find that I have the majority of my episodes while walking out of my 6 yr. old daughter’s room.  Very often, there is a fight that goes down while I am in there.  Usually over clothes, which is weird because she’s a committed tomboy (see “Mothers, Be Good to Your Daughters, Too for more on this).  We fight over clothes under her bed, we fight over hidden dresses or pink shirts that she refuses to wear and “forgot” where they went.  We fight when I tell her “no, you can’t wear your soccer shorts to school for the third day in a row.”  So, I leave her in her room to stew and I walk out, excitedly letting the vulgarities spill over, under my breath of course, but it’s satisfying just the same.

I also find that my affliction rears its ugly head after everyone is in bed for the night.  I’m able to clean up all the blocks and other toys left on the floor from the day’s events and inevitably, I’m going to step on one of them (at least).  Come on, mamaaaa … let it roll!  Here’s an ‘F’, there’s a ‘B’ and then an angry ‘MF,’ keep it comin’, you got this, get it all out!  My end of the day vent is over.  Time for a glass of wine before heading to bed, where my husband is undoubtedly already sleeping and most likely snoring.  Don’t get me started on “Insomniac Wife Tourettes.”