Sep 18 2014
I call myself a “shitty mom” at least once a day. OK, more than that. A few times a day, minimum. That’s vague enough. Definitely every day those nine letters float across my busy brain.
I feel like a shitty mom when I don’t walk my kindergartner to his classroom because I need to make my 8:30 a.m. exercise class and he knows the way on his own. When I don’t buy my 8th grader the protractor he needs for tomorrow because I can’t face dealing with the Walgreens parking lot at rush hour for one protractor, and I thought I’d go later but one thing became 10 and I didn’t. When I don’t make dinner every night, or even ensure there is something, anything, to eat some time between 6-8 p.m. When my kids hear me curse, when I yell at them again, when I don’t volunteer for the class party. When I forget to remind my son to wash his face and put on deodorant (seriously?!), or when I tell my daughter her hair looks terrible. (I’m like Karen from “Will & Grace”: “Honey, what’s up with that hair?”)
Shitty mom, shitty mom, shitty mom. Read the rest of this entry →
Mar 24 2014
My 6-year-old drops F-bombs.
To be fair, it’s usually on a bus or subway, and the context is, “MY MOM SAID FUCK! EVERYONE, MY MOM SAID A BAD WORD!” It’s often bellowed with a mischievous glint in his eye, prompting snickers from fellow commuters. It’s how he acquired his nickname “The Bad Word Police.”
I just shrug, because context is everything. It’s more upsetting to me if my son tells someone to “shut up” than if he mutters an expletive to himself as his Lego tower collapses. The values I try to emphasize in my child is that words can hurt people and should be used in ways that are thoughtful, responsible, and appropriate–i.e. the classroom is NOT an appropriate place to drop F-bombs (once he said “damn it” in class and it landed him in timeout. He never swore in school again). Read the rest of this entry →
Jul 2 2013
In our house of two parents raised by tried and true New Yorkers we spend an enormous amount of effort curbing our colorful enthusiasm (ahem) around our highly verbal 3-year-old. I think the F-word has been muttered all but once in his presence and I’m pretty sure it happened when he fell backwards down 17 stairs. We do a pretty good job and when my husband or I are displeased with something we usually say to one another, “Well that totally s-u-c-k-s.”
We are that family who says “oopsy daisy!” and spells out the word sucks (mind you, away from my kids I have the mouth of a saucy trucker). The point being, we make an effort.
A few months ago, I was rough housing with my son and he looked at me while raising a stuffed Curious George doll in his arms and exclaimed, “I’m going to COCK you in the eye!” I was horrified by the incorrect usage of a word we do not say in our house and rather than give it any attention, decided to ignore it. Read the rest of this entry →