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The most delightful aspect of watching your children grow is the newfound freedom to express frustration with a well-placed curse word.
When my son was just four years old, he let his first expletive slip. Buckled in the backseat of our car, he innocently inquired what was wrong after I groaned in dismay over a missed green light. I explained, “We’re going to be late, and mommy is feeling a bit overwhelmed.” He paused, munched on a goldfish cracker, then perfectly delivered, “Fuck.”
This moment has etched itself into my memory, a reminder of my struggles to maintain the ideal “good mom” image, which didn’t include salty language. I made a conscious effort to replace curse words with sanitized phrases, muttering things like, “Ouch, my foot!” when I stubbed my toe or “Oh no!” when I forgot to do something important. But deep down, I felt that my responses lacked authenticity.
As he grew, I noticed my son mimicked my softened language, narrating his frustrations with overly polite phrases. When his carefully constructed Magna-Tiles tower collapsed, he would cry out, “Oopsie Poopsie! It broke!” It was like living with a miniature version of Ned Flanders.
Now that he’s a tween, our relationship has shifted dramatically. He’s more reserved, often needing space where he once sought closeness. During our rare moments of connection, it’s not uncommon for us to stumble upon a shared understanding through the occasional curse word.
“It’s so fucking hard,” he said one evening, sprawled on the bedroom floor. He was expressing the weight of school pressures, sibling rivalries, and everything else that felt overwhelming. Peeking at me from behind his arm, he seemed to ask, “Am I in trouble?”
I responded with warmth and honesty, “Yes, it really is fucking hard.”
Cursing, with all its complexity, can be liberating. Research by psychologist Richard Stephens revealed that those who swear while enduring pain can tolerate discomfort longer than those who use milder expressions. It enhances resilience during life’s unexpected challenges. Yet, we know that children are often reprimanded for such language. I still remember the fate of Ralphie from “A Christmas Story” when he let slip the ultimate curse while helping his dad. I’ve lived in fear of soap in my mouth for years!
With my son, I strive for open and genuine communication. I’ve explained that there are no “bad” words, discussing their meanings and origins—conversations that might make our grandparents cringe. These discussions help open doors to deeper exchanges, allowing us both to express our feelings fully.
One day, overwhelmed by the challenges of parenting during an endless pandemic, I found myself in tears in the kitchen. “I’m having a shitty day,” I admitted, emphasizing each syllable.
He stepped closer and responded, “That’s so fucking hard.” In that moment, I felt truly seen.
In embracing curse words as authentic expressions of emotion, I acknowledge both his humanity and my own. It fosters a connection that transcends the typical bounds of parent-child dialogue.
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