Thursday, March 6, 2008

Shock Therapy?


Yesterday I got caught up on my husband's cousin's (stay with me here) blog. Hers is a blog about her little girl that she's been writing since pregnant, basically to keep family from far away up to date. I am not particularly close to her, though I probably should be since they live nearby. But then, I'm not particularly close to anyone in my husband's family, am I? In any case though, I am riveted by her blog. She writes candid and intimate details of her life without censoring. If I were a stranger, her blog would tell me not only her address, the type of car she drives, what her and her husband do for a living, and the floor plan of her house including a list of everything worth stealing, but also the list of anti-depressants, sleeping pills and other drugs she regularly takes. Now, I'm all for being truthful. Hey, usually it's funny 'cause it's true, right? But this is a little annoying, sad and dangerous at the same time.

Whatever, now that you have the full backstory here-the real reason for my post is that she blogged about how her little girl and her were watching some cheesy/schmucky (lord strike me blind if next year I am eating these words when Kip demands this) kid's video about going off to dreamland. When asked if she would like a dream the kid responded yes "one with puppies and sunshine, bon bons and Gucci and gin." Oh, wait-that was my dream. Anyway, it was something sickly sweet. Apparently, her mommy used to whisper this to her when she was younger and having bad dreams. So...my question is: What the heck is my poor, poor son going to want to dream about??!?!?!?!

Last night when he was crying and crying and I knew it was because he was over-tired, I told him to stop his bull-shit and go to sleep. Previously I have said things like "C'mon you little shithead" and "you have a shitty bum". Sensing a theme here? But the buck doesn't stop at the shit. I'm full of curse words. Now, I was raised with a lapsed-catholic mother who's idea of bible study was screaming "Jesus, Mary and Fucking Joseph!!!" when you forgot your lunch, so I come by it honestly. But I don't remember cursing inappropriately until I was an adult myself. Am I giving my son dreams of rank toilets and street-fights with my potty tongue? Should I seek some therapy to kick my bad-word habit? I stopped biting my nails years ago by putting a rubber band around my wrist and snapping it every time I brought them to my mouth. That shit hurt. So I may have to invest in one of these "swear boxes" (check out for details http://www.iwantoneofthose.com/swear-box/index.html) that will hurt less and let me buy more shoes.

But then again...I may swear, but I am sane. Cousin is on those multiple post-partum uppers, so the marshmallows and balloons and bubbles (oh-my!) make sense. Before I do anything drastic I'll wait and see what she blogs when the Zoloft wears off. For now, I'm sticking with shag carpets and Manolo Blahniks and Marijuana (things I tell my son that dreams are made of). Or should I say: "F%$king and Sh&!ting and A*!holes!" (oh-my!).

1 comment:

flipper Pie said...

I say keep with the swearing. I think there is nothing better than listening to someone who is a skilled swearer. Just make sure he knows when it's ok and not ok to do it. Like, let him know not to greet his kindergarden teacher by saying 'hello you old shit'.