I heard that

Last night while playing the typical round of musical rooms, I stubbed my entire foot on the corner of a poorly misplaced step stool in my eldest’s room. Needless to say, the amount of pain and shock was just too much to be sensitive to her innocent ears. But let me explain.

Earlier in the evening, while searching frantically with two tired and dirty children, desperately in need a bath since they got their dinner in their hair, I carefully chose my words. “Silly mommy! So silly! This is unbelievable that I cannot find my keys. I just don’t believe it!”

Fine, I said bullshit somewhere in the midst of one of those sentences but was quickly reminded by non-eater that we don’t say that word. Despite feeling overwhelmed with annoyance and frustration, I apologized and continued inwardly ranting until the keys were found 30 min. later.

But all that bottled up language that used to fly out without a thought, came up when I was caught off guard at 4am when faced toe to toe with the sharpest and heaviest stools.

Fucking A!

Now, my daughter who was also just waking up from the cries of her teething sister, didn’t say a word; she’s never heard that one before. (OK, fine, maybe once it came out quietly and was quickly repeated, FART. FART. FART.)

This morning, while playing in her playroom she started to sing the alphabet for her sister. Fartin A B C D….

About Lady in Red

mom of 3
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