While I understand the importance of setting a good example for your kids, I am also of the "Do as I say, not as I do" school of thought when it comes to matters such as these.
Yes, I curse like a sailor. Yes, I love the way the F word sounds on my tongue. No, I don't love the way it sounds coming out of my 3 yr old's mouth (okay, maybe we do think it's freakin' hilarious, but we always hide our laughter so as not to let on). I've done pretty well these past 3 1/2 years in trying to tone down the swearing, but damn, I AM A GROWN UP. I am I am I am I am! *lying on floor, kicking & screaming*
My days are filled with these rugrats. Gladly, I admit, though definitely maddening at times.
As I type this, I'm also trying to make Valentines cards for Ryan (what? cutting apart the printed cards is hard work), paying the bills online, and watching Scooby-Doo, all while holding Ryan on my lap and intermittently running to Jax's room to supply needed binky and hold-off crying for at least 10 more minutes. I know -- I'm like, so rockin' the SuperMommy badge right now.
I don't buy clothes for myself anymore, which is why in every picture of me you will see either an old hole-infested t-shirt, or some sort of clothing that was cool 5 years ago -- and if you could see my former credit card bills, you would know what a sacrifice this is.
We have successfully decorated our entire home with hand-me-downs, homemade decor, and clearance sale items. Every single room is occupied by numerous primary-colored, totally loud and annoying baby/toddler/pre-school toys.
The only DVD's we own are Disney, Pixar, or Nickelodeon-related. I haven't listened to Mommy music in the car in, like, 2 years. I can, however, sing every single Disney Princess song perfectly on key, word-for-word.
I drive a 4 yr-old Honda Civic covered with those horrid, wretched ugly-as-hell window shades, because we have yet to be able to get the car tinted. I also only have a tape deck. A TAPE DECK. Go ahead, snort. I would if I were you.
And in order to provide this blessed, one-income family lifestyle that we cherish (really, we do), my husband works 6 1/2 days per week, at least 12 hours per day, which means I NEVER SEE HIM. And I really kinda like him, you know?
In other words, give me my random curse words or I WILL KILL MYSELF. Capice?
What's so wrong with telling your kids that there are things Mommy and Daddy can say that Ryan and Jax can't? What's so wrong with drawing a grown-ups/little-kids line in the sand? Even if it is drawn with a Barbie Magic of Pegasus Wand while sipping on a Capri Sun.
For the love of God, WHO IS IN CHARGE???
And don't think Jax hasn't already jumped on the whole "You do it so I can, too" bandwagon. I give you Exhibit A:
Yes, bro, I know Dad supports the whole low-slung jailbird pants movement, but you are not Dad (yet).
Meanwhile, he did manage to sleep through the night for the first time in 9 1/2 months. Big ups to Jax -- it's about damn time.
Also, don't forget about tonight. I will be watching upstairs while Ryan and Emma commence their first sleepover together with the Wizard of Oz downstairs. I'm not at all pissed by being demoted to the upper regions of the household. It is, after all, Ryan's fuckin' world.