There are simply some days when you just lose it. The sink is full of dirty dishes, the dishwasher is full, there are no clean spoons in the drawer, crumbs have collected all along the kitchen baseboard and are sticking to the bottom of your feet, the cat’s in your way laying in front of the kitchen sink, the counter top is full of papers, old mail, tubs of slime, pencils with broken tips and the eraser chewed off, the refrigerator door is open and beeping, everyone needs to be fed, and it is at these times you just lose it. I’ve slipped. I’m guilty. My child has heard me lose my shiX and curse.
While I am not proud of this fact, I am happy that I release my pent up rage. Again, I am not pleased that these choice four-letter words come spewing out of my mouth like flaming spears but it seems at least in that particular moment of passionate anger there is no other way to get it out that feels as good as four-letter gems that are unfortunately in the earshot of my daughter.
So J. has come up with a solution for me: substitute words to take the place of the unsavory ones. Instead of saying shiX say “strawberries” and instead of FucX say “fudge muffin,” instead of bitch say “banana split,” instead of hell, say “hot chocolate.” Damn? You guessed it, “donuts.”
Do these words work as well as the originals? No. Come on, no of course they don’t! The four-letter words are ingrained in our minds since we were little, as the end of your rope, you’re going to get in trouble if you say them, the losing all of your strawberries words. They’re forbidden, they’re wrong, and that’s what makes them so good.
The substitutes have no history of being wrong, the last resort, and shocking. J.’s selection of words bring to mind gentle, lovely, sugary favorite things when all you want is garbage tossed everywhere, flaming throwing, spear piercing words that are going to do some damage to the building and break dishes.
But her message is loud and clear: mommy, stop it. I don’t want to hear those words. You don’t want me to say those words. And it makes me upset when I hear them coming out of your mouth.
Okay, got the Memo so now what? Shi..strawberries, I mean.
Here’s what I do. I try, as I get to the point when—as I am going up the roller coaster ramp of hot chocolate—that leads to the crazy twisting ride of losing my strawberries, I remove myself from the situation, if I can. I go into another room. I go into the garage, get into the car, shut the door, and scream! Do I have the wherewithal to do this every time? And do the bad words never ever come out of my mouth anymore? Of course not!
But at least I am trying.
—SBM
Single Busy Mommy 