A Sweary Mom's Manifesto

by Joelle Wisler
Concept Photo / Shutterstock

My children wear clean clothes, eat healthy food, get lots of sunshine and exercise, and they also happen to hear the word “asshat” a lot.

I like to curse, and I have children. There, I fucking said it.

When they were babies, my children probably fell asleep to the soothing sound of me whispering “Fucknugget!” as I stepped on a rogue plastic toy tiptoeing out of their room. In the future, hearing F-bombs will be like fondly remembered lullabies to them.

Swearing is fun, entertaining, and a great stress reliever. And saying bad words doesn’t make me a bad mother. Really, it doesn’t. It doesn’t make me vulgar, or not a lady, or improper, or a terrible grown-up. It makes me happy. And pretty fucking funny. The research actually says it makes me a more creative person. Maybe even someone with a larger than normal vocabulary. It might just make me stronger, and that’s the kinda shit I like to hear.

Just because some of my favorite words belong in a sailor’s handbook doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t be used in everyday life. I’m sorry, but saying “Gosh Darnit” or “Frickety Frack” is just not going to work for me when I bang my funny bone or drop an entire box of Rice Krispies on the floor. Those words do not suit the circumstance. I need something more robust, perhaps a “Clusterfuck” or a “Shitdamnfuck” will work. Saying words like “assclown” just feels natural to me, like breathing, or walking, or complaining about the price of avocados.

And because I say these dirty, creative words in daily life, my kids hear me and — gasp — sometimes repeat what I’ve said. And guess what, I don’t really care. I’ve changed a lot for those little pisswizards, including becoming a morning person and watching little kid movies at night. I refuse to change the words that come out of my mouth.

You don’t need to worry about my children; I know that many of you possibly do. We have taught them right from wrong, despite my fervor in saying all the nasty words all day long. For instance, they have learned that it is wrong to say “fuckit” in front of Nana. It is also wrong to say colorful words in school, church, or while explaining your morning to the person checking us out at the grocery story. And we don’t swear at each other, even if we are angry.

We have taught them the right times to swear. Those words are used to spice up a sentence or make someone laugh. For instance, it is definitely right to sing songs and replace some of the words with curse words to entertain your parents. “Uptown Funk” is a good example. And I mean nothing is funnier than a 3-year-old looking into the toilet after she’s pooped and screaming “Holy shit!” I’m going to tell that story about her until I can no longer speak, and I will still laugh every time. If we let them swear around us, they learn some self-control by recognizing the right and wrong times to throw out words like “douche canoe.”

So if my cursing philosophy makes you want to throw your keyboard into the fucking river, you can calm down. The only children I curse around are my own and a select few other kids whose mothers also have mouths like truck drivers. We are tight-knit group of potty mouths, and our children don’t know anything different. And they are still really awesome kids. Imagine that.

So join us — it’s fun and good for the goddamn soul to throw down some fancy words every once in a while. Trust me, I’m a fucking expert at it.