Anyone who knows me in real life knows that, despite my wholesome online persona (clever ruse, that), I have more than a bit of a gutter mouth (it’s a nice complement to my piercings and tattoos). Some of my favorite words are of the four-letter variety, and I’m not always terrifically discriminate about when and where I use them. Since moving to Sweden I’ve gotten even worse, as here the words aren’t nearly so taboo for nice girls as they are in the States, and I don’t have to curb my enthusiastic use of them so often as I did when I had to worry about keeping the Big Boss Man happy.

Having kids didn’t do much to change my vocabulary for the cleaner, even though many people think kids shouldn’t be exposed to “foul” language. While perusing one of my favorite online reads, dooce, I found the following paragraph that perfectly outlines my beliefs on the subject:

I am much more scared of agendas than I am four-letter words. Fucks and shits and damns aren’t going to brainwash my daughter, although they might make her unpopular with the other mothers at playgroup. It will be much easier to undo the fucks and shits (“How about we say something else in front of Grandmommie?”), but much harder to undo ideas. Agendas will teach her that her only shot at happiness is God or a large set of tits. Agendas will teach her that women are only supposed to fulfill certain roles, or that men are doomed to be aloof, fumbling idiots. Agendas will teach her that violence is somehow okay.

I couldn’t have said it better, so I’m not even going to try.

The thing that’s putting the most expletives in my speech today is the angry red rash that’s exploded on my baby. What we originally thought was a diaper rash, then speculated might be chicken pox, has turned out to be an allergic reaction, caused, we assume, by a new brand of baby wipes we bought on an out-of-town trip over the weekend. He’s got red blisters all over his body, concentrated mostly on his diaper area and the backs of his legs and every time I look at it I say, “Fuck, that looks bad.” We took him to the doctor this morning and they prescribed an anti-histamine and told us to rub zinc cream over the worst parts. Lucky for all of us, it doesn’t seem to be bothering him, but just looking at it causes me pain.