@#$% This...

I'm guilty. Bad words have tumbled out of my mouth in front of the kids. Enduring Chad's spilling a gallon of milk at dinner, our two girls trying to kick Chad under the table and an ill-timed game of duck duck goose, Todd let a few expletives slip too. My visiting Los Angeles sister used the word shit as often as a teenager misuses the word like with our kids in the audience. It happens. 

Recently, so furious with Todd, Chad turned to him in the kitchen and said, "Dad, I am so bleepin' mad at you." The bleepin needed no further explanation. We got it. It would be so much easier for us too, to just let a curse-filled tirade loose.

To this day I have no concrete memories of my mother cursing when we were kids. In fact, even now, she rarely curses. She prefers jibberish cursing like super-plum-fanny-foop or fongalottie.  Harmless completely. Once though, and it was recent, she misplaced her glasses (big shock), and in exasperation growled “Fuck Shit Piss.”  My sister Jess and I got hysterical.

Polish $%^& that!

Our reality is that even if we never rumble bad words at our kids, the rest of the world is out to foil our children's Eden. There may be no poison apples in our house, but there is an orchard of them just outside our front door. 

The school bus is a horror-show. Anything you are afraid your kids will learn will be taught to them enthusiastically on the bus by an excited peer. Novelties include new and fantastic names for penis (apparently a crowd pleaser), 101 ways to use the word *uck, gesturing included and how to talk, expletives strung together like a pimp. 

Older siblings can also wipe out years of clean living and edited communications. My mother-in-law Marcia tells a great story. Uncle Matt, the youngest Berlent brother was talking with his Nana Ann. "Nana" he said to her, "I know a really good curse word, want to hear it?" Always game, Nana nodded and asked to know what the word was. Proud to share, Matt told her, “Diarrhea!” Relieved, Nana laughed and told Matt that diarrhea was not a curse word and it was okay to use. Not to be outdone, Matt followed it with, "How about fuckin-asshole?" to which Nana replied, "Now that's a couple of curse words." No doubt, with three older brothers, Matt was initiated into the curse club quite early.

Even films deemed kid-appropriate cannot be counted on for completely clean concepts and cleaner language. Dylan, a good friend of Chad’s came into his kitchen one afternoon where his mom was preparing snack after school. Greeting her son with a "Hey Dyl how was your day?" got her an innocent response. "Oh hey Moron, it was good." She recalls standing by her sink, balancing on the edge of dismay and laughter temporarily immobilized. Her son just addressed her as moron and didn’t cringe or apologize.  After careful investigation, she figured out that Dylan learned the moron moniker from the “Toy Story Movie” Immediately told that using the word Moron is unacceptable, not nice and NEVER to be used again, Dylan responded, "can I just call you Mo then?"

As parents, we try to divert the train coming around the tracks. Sometimes, it works. Other times it fails miserably with the kids as wide-eyed witnesses. Chad recently pointed out to me that an impatient driver trying to make an impossible left turn in heavy afternoon traffic gave me the finger because my oncoming left turn happened before his. Chad thought he was witnessing one of the best moments of his life, seeing real-live cursing action. I took the high road and gave the guy of good verbal lashing in my head. Having taken the high road was smart. Having taken the high road for my kids even smarter. Having taken the high road, ugh, totally unrewarding for me. 

I suppose I can do what my dad always did. When Jess and I were younger, he was quite a verbal driver.  He used to curse in Polish, his birth language. One purchased Rosetta Stone, on its way...