New Words
"Holy mackerel," I heard myself say. And then I slapped my hand over my lips.
When had I become so tame in my expletives? There had been a time, many moons ago, when I would have freely let slip a good, Holy shit, or Dammit, and here I was, uttering something that dates back to the early 1800s.
As I moved around the kitchen, putting dishes away, I thought about what other words I use on a daily basis. I stood still in shock as the memories of my words assaulted my brain. My word! has come forth most recently, as in the last two years or so. Oh beans! and Shoop! and Rats! are commonly found in my repertoire. (In case you aren't clear what shoop is, it's my attempt to not say, Shoot! because that's too close to Shit!) I won't even go near What the... (and I don't like the kids to use it) because it's too close to What the hell? We all know that's what I would mean to say if I said it, so I just don't.
The question is, why? Why do I often sound like a blue-haired out lady from the south? I blame that one on the girls. From the moment they came into our home over twelve years ago, I vowed to keep my mouth clean. And then, of course, we had to add two more children to the mix. So instead of the potty talk I had thrown around with ease, I found myself looking for alternatives. (I certainly didn't want to raise a bunch of kids who curse like sailors, you know?)
But those alternatives, in my mind, are getting old. So send your best this way. I'm tired of the whole butterflying* list that I have.
*I borrowed that term from Colleen Hoover, who used it in her book Point of Retreat. Which means that I'm not averse to any made-up term. And thank you, Colleen.
When had I become so tame in my expletives? There had been a time, many moons ago, when I would have freely let slip a good, Holy shit, or Dammit, and here I was, uttering something that dates back to the early 1800s.
As I moved around the kitchen, putting dishes away, I thought about what other words I use on a daily basis. I stood still in shock as the memories of my words assaulted my brain. My word! has come forth most recently, as in the last two years or so. Oh beans! and Shoop! and Rats! are commonly found in my repertoire. (In case you aren't clear what shoop is, it's my attempt to not say, Shoot! because that's too close to Shit!) I won't even go near What the... (and I don't like the kids to use it) because it's too close to What the hell? We all know that's what I would mean to say if I said it, so I just don't.
The question is, why? Why do I often sound like a blue-haired out lady from the south? I blame that one on the girls. From the moment they came into our home over twelve years ago, I vowed to keep my mouth clean. And then, of course, we had to add two more children to the mix. So instead of the potty talk I had thrown around with ease, I found myself looking for alternatives. (I certainly didn't want to raise a bunch of kids who curse like sailors, you know?)
But those alternatives, in my mind, are getting old. So send your best this way. I'm tired of the whole butterflying* list that I have.
*I borrowed that term from Colleen Hoover, who used it in her book Point of Retreat. Which means that I'm not averse to any made-up term. And thank you, Colleen.
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