I'm trying out something new.
Essentially, it involves not cursing like a longshoreman, as is my (occasional) habit. You see, Toopweets is talking. Like, a lot. And perhaps more significantly, REPEATING a lot. Consequently, I had a bit of a wake-up call the other day. I was amidst cutting up some meatballs for his dinner when I burnt my hand. "CRAAAAP!" I exclaimed. He looked up, and a bemused expression crossed his face.
I'm sure you can imagine what happened next.
For the next 5 minutes, “cwap” was his favorite word.
Elmo was cwap. His sippy cup was cwap. My magazine was cwap. (As it was In Touch, he sort of had a point.)
I realized with horror that I could’ve said (and he could've repeated) something much worse, and so I resolved to clean up my act, so to speak. After all, I reasoned, it's a slippery slope from “cwap” to the truly foulmouthed 2-year old I saw in Target the other week.
The first day of my shiny, curse-free existence wasn't so bad.
The second day was a bit more challenging. I had a close call when I stubbed my toe. The incident occurred while we were playing a little game I like to call "Hide Behind Large Pieces of Furniture and Pop Up Quickly While Shrieking 'Boo'." (Patent pending!) After bashing my foot against the metal leg of what I've since decided is the world's most impractical chair, the "fff” sound was just dancing there on the tip of my tongue, but I'm proud to say that I recovered nicely with "fudgebuttons."
I'm not going to lie; it was weird.
Then things got difficult pretty rapidly.
How, I ask you, is one supposed to assemble a toy without letting the occasional “DAMN it!” slip by? Am I truly expected to get cut off in traffic behind a 907-year old lady who then drives fourteen miles an hour and NOT mutter "bitch" under my breath? Is one really supposed to drop a can of shoepeg corn on her hand without accusing said corn of possibly engaging in inappropriate relations with its mother? How, I ask you, HOWWWW?
To make matters worse, no sooner did I attempt to drop my bad habit, I started to see reminders of it everywhere. I can’t balance my checkbook…
...or play blocks with T and not be reminded of my old ways:
Sigh…this is not going to be easy. I give myself about a week before I crack. Wish me luck.
Seriously, how do people do this?
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For all of you who were intrigued at the thought of Cauliflower Popcorn, here's the recipe. It's delicious, and a snap to make. Enjoy!
2 heads cauliflower, cut into medium florets (discard stems)
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons sugar
¼ teaspoon onion powder
¼ teaspoon garlic powder
½ teaspoon paprika
¼-1/2 teaspoon turmeric
6 tablespoons of olive oil
Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
Line a baking pan with parchment paper. In a large bowl, combine all of the spices and the olive oil. Add cauliflower florets and toss to evenly coat. Place in a single layer on the prepared sheet. Roast uncovered for 30-35 minutes, until the largest pieces can be pierced with a fork.
p.s. Werewolf Bar Mitzvahs are very, very scary. That is all.
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17 comments:
Boys becoming men! Men becoming wolves!!! Awesome. :)
This brings me back to my 10th grade math class. We had some filthy calculators.
We'll just add that to the growing list of reasons I will probably never have a child.
I'm not sure I even know which words kids shouldn't say. The other day, my coworker had her kindergartener daughter in the office, and I was chatting with her and asked how school was going. "Not good," she said. "There's a mean bully." So I said, "A mean bully? That sucks." The kid just looked at me, like, "Did you really just say 'sucks'?" Yes. Yes, I did. Apparently that's a problem?
It would probably be easier just to let Toopweets swear. If people give you shit about it, tell them he has Tourette's. This is what I would do, which is most likely why no one has ever asked me to babysit their kids.
As you are my only Jewish friend, you know I was going to ask you about Werewolf Bar Mitzvahs. Glad to know your opinion!
(I will steer clear of them from now on.)
Also, my kid isn't talking. So I haven't had to deal with this yet. Maybe you should watch Napoleon Dynamite again to see how he pulls off those "flips" without any effort.
Oh, and I've already got the patent for the "where in the heck could mommy be hiding this time?" game. It's a huge hit at our house, even though mommy can only find 3 spots to hide in. Damn tiny apartment.
"Oh ffffffff......FENG SHUI!" works pretty well for the "F" sound. And you could always resort to some Anchorman lines for variety: "By the beard of Zeus!" for example, or "Sweet Lincoln's mullet!" And then if people questioned why Toopweets was saying that stuff, you could just say he was really up on his history. Name-dropping Zeus and Lincoln? I'd be impressed.
(Agreed on the Werewolf Bah Mitzvahs.)
That was hysterically funny, and you can self-censor until you're blue in the face(literally...you'll turn blue from the effort of resisting the f-bomb when it's the ONLY word that will do), and he will hear you the ONE time you slip. With my older one, I was constantly hearing "jackass" from the car seat. With the younger one, it was "dammit". As in at day care, when he can't reassemble the train he's taken apart and the teacher asks him if he needs help, and his response is "dis is bwoken, dammit"...naturally, I told her that I'd ask my husband to clean up his language.
werewolf bar mitzvah video here http://coedmagazine.com/entertainment/2963
what do you mean? I LOVE werewolf bar-mitzvahs! that was GREAT!
Am totally making this recipe soon.
I used to type "Boobies" on my calculator. I still do. Maybe.
Ahem.
And that recipe looks dee-lish!
your blogher ad is acting funny, btw...
I am reminded of typing BOOBLESS on my calculator way back when.....
I said Dammit in front of Rt too many times. He said it for a month. It's now gone, which is nice. But, what will he pick up next, which means, what will I say next?
I shutter to think.
you have to give up so many other things when you have a child, and then you're expected to give up swearing too? no thank you. seeing as how we moved into a house needing a lot of renovation and had a baby at about the same time, and given that my husband cannot do a house project without swearing, our baby's first word will probably be co*ks**ker mo*herf**ker. oh well...should make for interesting parent-teacher conferences at least.
This grilled cheese has MAYO!
I heart Kenneth so freaking much.
"Piffle!" is my personal favorite. No, I don't have children, I just enjoy indulging in the exclamations of an octagenarian.
Fudge buttons is going straight to the top of my octagenarian lexicon.
Hi Metalia,
I'll delurk a little late to say that I enjoy reading your blog and also to share the story of my little sister's first swear word. When she was two, my sister overheard someone saying dammit, on what I presume was a consistent basis, as she suddenly began using said word whenever she got upset (which happens often when you're two). Although it horrified my parents to have a two-year-old with a foul mouth, it was actually rather funny since not only had she picked up the word, but also the proper context in which to use it. At any rate, nobody made too big of a deal about her saying dammit, and within a month it was no longer part of her vocabulary.
So here's my issue, I try SO DAMN HARD NOT TO SWEAR that I just ignore the injury.
Then a ginormous bruise shows up three days later and I don't know who (or what) to give credit to.
It's as if swearing solidifies the event.
Fudgebuttons.
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