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Closet Cursing

When my husband Mike was twelve he threw a fork at his eleven-month younger brother, Dave, with such force that it put a hole in the door. (This is a fortunate ending compared to the shovel throwing incident where Mike ended up with stitches in his leg.) It is rumored that his mom said, You d*** kids!”

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Mike’s fifty-ish mom is the kindest, most patient woman I know. I have never heard her speak ill of anyone. The worst word that comes from her mouth is, “D'oh!” uttered affectionately when a grandchild accidentally slips or makes a mistake. I have seen her angry at her remaining teenage son and the word I heard her utter under her breath was, “Scott!”

In all my memories of my own mom I can’t remember her ever saying a single swear word. Nothing. My grandma, her mother, is another story however.

When my grandpa proposed to her she replied, “Oh h*** Charles.” Once, when I had been dating a boy in her ward and he broke my heart she said declaratively, “Tommy’s an a**.” “Why yes he is,” I thought and felt better.

I am a closet cusser. I know it’s vulgar and considered to be vocabulary deficient. But as I’m ripping out a seam on a sewing project for the fifth time late at night Christmas Eve, or I’ve fallen down the mountain on my bike, or I have to stop my double jogger for the tenth time in ten minutes to adjust the sunshade, nothing seems more fitting than a couple good muttering swear words.

I’ve never sworn directly at my children, but when my adorable, then three-year-old, peed on the front seats of my car, I had to shut her in the car for a minute. My choice of poison includes da** and h***, but freakin’ is a constant too.

I know, I know. I feel guilty. I know “good” Mormons don’t swear. And sometimes I ponder reforming myself.

I’ve blown it as far as my mom’s example goes. But maybe, just maybe I can mature into a kind and mild woman who no one believes would ever swear. Then again, “Well behaved women rarely make history,” and I have a feeling I’ve inherited more of my grandma’s slightly fiery temperament.


Amateur Steph is still trying to perfect herself, or at least make history, as the mother of two girls and a kitty. Read about her attempts on her blog, Everyone’s Excited and Confused.

*Photo from Flickr

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