Reading back through a text conversation between myself and a close mate, I’m a little bit concerned that other people don’t talk about their kids the way that we do. Or maybe they do, and just haven’t chosen to announce it all over the internet?
Either way, I’m not convinced that this exchange is such a bad thing. It might come across a bit shocking initially, but read on to find out why I think it’s totally ok.
Are We So Wrong?
Now obviously, the way that we talk about our kids is very much tongue in cheek (although my kids are sick notes!) It has occurred to me, though, that other people might not talk like this. And I suppose it worries me a bit that we might be judged for it.
There’s something about sending a text that automatically makes me feel like it’s more acceptable to swear. In speech, I suppose as a result of having kids constantly at my ankles, I
never… don’t often… rarely… swear a hell of a lot less than I used to, but in text the profanities just spill out onto the screen!
We Egg Each Other On
It’s like one gets the other going with all the swearing! I mean, our conversations aren’t always like this, but when the mood strikes, it really strikes! Also, huge apologies to Slimming World here, I think you’re amazing really, don’t judge me!
I think our shockingly un-mumsy use of foul language somehow makes the whole exchange seem a bit more mean than it actually is! It’s not a lie that my kids are “fuckin’ sick notes” but maybe I should have said that “my poor babies just don’t have the best immune system defences right now”. It’s also very true that my “bastard children … are selfish fuckers”, but maybe we could have been a bit more prophetic in announcing to each other that my “beautiful children born out of wedlock are currently ensconced in an egocentric stage of childhood development, whereby they are exceedingly focussed on the self”
It’s All Bull…
Or maybe, just maybe, sometimes you need to just sound off a bit. And maybe that’s ok! Because most of the time we do the Mum thing. We take trips, we go on adventures, we do all the crafting that sanity allows, we get up every morning, put them to bed every night, wipe every snotty nose, and field every “Mum! But why?”. So sometimes, sorry, my beautiful children born out of wedlock are simply bastards. I’m tired of them being sick, I’m tired of the sickness they’ve passed on to me, I’m tired of feeling like a dick because I’ve taken more time off work, and for a split second I thought my kids were bloody selfish fuckers.
That split second always passes, though, and before long they’re my beautiful children again (with rank snotty noses) and that’s what make it all ok.