I curse around my fucking kid

Patty Morrissey
Nov 6 · 2 min read
Kristina Flour via Unsplash

Let me start by saying that I have one very polite kid. The reports back from school and playdates are unwavering — she has excellent manners.

I curse a lot, mostly for emphasis. I have the capacity to dial it back, but can’t censor completely. It’s just not my style. She’s an only child, witness to many adult conversations. When she was two, she said “fuck dammit” with the appropriate context when struggling with a puzzle. That was the only time I’ve heard her swear.

“Mom, what’s the D word?” “Dick?” I replied reactively. She meant Damn — damn! That’s when I told her “Honey, if you ever have questions about anything you can come to me. I’ll give you an honest answer. I’ll never judge your question or punish you for asking. As your mom it’s my job to answer any questions you have about the world.”

Then I told her that curse words are just words. They only have as much power as we grant them. That she should know that some people find them offensive and that if she chooses to use those words that they’ll have an impact on the people around her. Sometimes people use these words as a weapon to harm other people. Now that she knows their impact, she needs to choose wisely when and if to use them. I shared that I use them when in safe company to emphasize my point. I also admitted that sometimes it’s out of laziness because I couldn’t think of a better word to emphasize my point.

Knowing these words doesn’t mean she’ll use them. Just like knowing how to use a knife doesn’t mean she’ll harm someone.

As her parent, I want to expose her to what the world will eventually reveal. I want her to be prepared and plan how she’s going to navigate.

I want to be her source of information so I can help her understand it in the right context. Teach her how to filter all that the world is throwing at her.

When she freely asks me these questions I see it as evidence that she trusts me and that I have influence in her life. I’ll start worrying when the questions stop.

Recently she asked, “Mom, what’s a virgin?” “Do you know what sex is?” “When grown-ups kiss naked.” “Well a virgin is someone who has never done that.” Just enough information, bit by bit. Daily conversations. Trust established. Respect. Honesty.

When she’s in a situation my hope is she’ll ask the questions — about sex, drugs, risk, life.

Written by

Lifestyle and organizing consultant, Patty believes our homes should “Spark Joy” and that our own definition of success is the only one that matters.

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