It’s Not Just for Patriots…Anymore
“WHAT THE FOX SAYS?!!”
Title and lyrics to the incredibly irritating song by Ylvis?, I only wish. This colorful outcry comes out of the mouth of my pretty sweet and not so innocent daughter of four. I often wonder the fate of my little girl surrounded by three teenage brothers and two over zealous parents in her formative years. No, this is Alaya’s creative use of profanity.
When I was a young mother of my three boys, I believed it was my job to raise good boys in a bad world; I protected their eyes and ears from all things I deemed inappropriate. My heros - the Proverbs 31* woman and June Cleaver, so it came as quite a shock when I heard my 3 year old youngest son belt out, “JACKASS!” from the other room. I did not know whether to laugh hysterically or wash his mouth out with soap. Unfortunately, I chose the former and fought his abbreviated use of the word for two years, the inventive little “Jack”.
Beginning with my divorce over 8 years ago, I embraced the use of an uninspired, yet powerful vocabulary. Bottled up emotions erupted like volcanoes spewing fire and lava onto anyone and everyone within range. It felt a bit like a cleansing - rather unpleasant and destructive, but out nonetheless. Since then, I have sought better methods of dealing with stress and powerful emotions.
At least one morning a week I perform Yoga by Hemalayaa; I release tensions by making loud animal sounds and flapping my arms like an enchanted tree. My boys are sure there is something very wrong with me and struggled to manage their own embarrassment. J
Another philosophical technique is to observe the behavior without judgment. For instance, Laido and I were driving in the
Mountains on a weekend get-a-way without the children this past
fall. As we drove the snowy mountain
roads, we were suddenly overtaken by Tourette’s Syndrome. Every four letter, rotten, disgusting and
inappropriate word burst forth from deep inside our guts…then we looked up more
in the Urban Dictionary. We yelled our
profanities out the open windows while tiny snowflakes melted into tears of
laughter rolling back into our frosted hair. True story, except for the hair
part with Laido, he has none.
Lastly, in an effort to bring more positive, loving words to my profuse list of profanity, I have adopted my husband’s unique brand of releasing frustration; so next time I lock my keys in the car or smack my elbow on a wall corner while vacuuming, you may now hear, “GOD BLESS AMERICA!”
Love & light to you all now and always,
*From the Book of Proverbs in the Bible