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When my son was just four years old, he dropped his first curse word. While strapped into his car seat, he asked what was wrong after I let out a frustrated groan for missing a green light on our way to a crucial appointment. “We’re going to be late, and mommy is feeling overwhelmed,” I explained. After a brief pause, he popped a goldfish cracker into his mouth and perfectly intoned, “Fuck.”
This moment is forever etched in my memory as the point when I felt like I had completely failed as a mother. The ideal version of myself didn’t use such language, so I made a conscious effort to eliminate curse words from my speech, replacing them with sanitized phrases that felt fake. Every time I stubbed my toe, I’d say, “Ouch, that really hurts!” or when I forgot to defrost the chicken, I’d exclaim, “Oh no! I forgot!”
For a time, my son mirrored my verbal gymnastics, narrating his big feelings like a cautious commentator after an unfortunate event, such as when his carefully constructed Magna-Tiles toppled over. His hazel eyes would flash with anger before he’d clench his tiny fists and lament, “Oopsie Poopsie! It broke!” It was like living with a miniature Ned Flanders.
As he transitioned into his tween years, I noticed significant changes. He became more reserved when he used to be chatty and needed personal space when he once clung to my side. Conversations that were once open and flowing now felt more like navigating a maze.
In those tricky moments, we discovered common ground through the occasional curse word. “It’s so fucking hard,” he sighed one day, sprawled out on the bedroom floor, grappling with the pressures of school and his fluctuating relationship with his siblings. He peeked out from behind his arm, clearly unsure if he was crossing a line. I responded, “Yes, I’m so sorry it’s that hard.”
Cursing, with its myriad of expressions, can be a powerful tool. Studies, like one from psychologist Richard Stephens of Keele University, suggest that swearing can help us endure pain longer than softer alternatives like “shoot” or “oopsie poopsie.” It’s a way to build resilience and reclaim agency during tough times, even if it’s still frowned upon for kids to let loose with such words.
With my tween son, I strive for open and honest communication, free from societal pretenses. I explain that there are no “bad” words, discussing their meanings and origins, even if it would make our great-grandparents cringe. In these discussions, the barriers between us dissolve, allowing for a more genuine connection.
One day, overwhelmed by the pressures of parenting during a seemingly endless pandemic, I found myself crying in the kitchen. “I’m having a shitty day,” I admitted, enunciating every syllable. He took a step closer and said, “That’s so fucking hard.” In that moment, I felt truly seen.
If you’re navigating similar experiences, you might find insights in our other blog post, here. For those looking to enhance their journey to parenthood, check out these fertility supplements that can help. Additionally, for more resources on pregnancy and home insemination, Cleveland Clinic’s podcast is an excellent option.
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In summary, the ability to express ourselves freely, including swearing, can enhance communication between parents and children, fostering deeper connections at all stages of development. It’s a reminder that honesty and authenticity pave the way for understanding and empathy.
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