Twice. Then tracked it just about everywhere.
Anyone who knows me really well knows that I have the ability to use some of the very best cuss words and nastiest language on the planet. No really. I have a potty mouth that could put shame to a line from a Quentin Tarrantino movie. And if there was ever a time that deserved such descriptive language, THAT was it. Seriously. I had doggie doo-doo up my pant-leg, on two pairs of shoes, on my vehicle floor mats and running boards.
The birth of my son got me thinking about how I want him to talk. I want to give him a broad vocabulary to use when expressing himself, minus variations on the “F” word and all the other swear words out there. To that end, I have worked to flex my vocab muscle and weed out the gutter-speak.
Cool side effect: Happier. When I stopped using the “F” word and the other explicit profanity in my arsenal as verbs, nouns, adjectives and adverbs, my mood also improved. “This effing-thing!” became “This dang thing.” Minor irritations really ARE minor now. Adding the colorful language isn’t really colorful. It sort of blows things out of proportion and has the tendency to make us angrier about something that doesn’t deserve that kind of mental or emotional energy.
My son will hear a lot of swearing during his lifetime. And he’s going swear a lot, too. Of all the things I want him to learn from me, that isn’t one of them. I know I will slip up, but that will be the rare exception, not the usual rule of conversation for me.
Oh, and I never once swore during the dog poop incident.
PS: kudos to my sweet hubby who cleaned both pairs of shoes for me!!