You know, when I first became a parent, I had this whole vision of what I wanted to teach my kids. Confidence, kindness, a love for reading—those were my goals. But let’s be real, while I’m still working on those, I’ve also imparted some other, shall we say, interesting lessons along the way.
Swearing
Just yesterday, as we were heading to church, my oldest daughter, Lily, realized she left her favorite toy at home and let out a perfectly timed swear word. My husband, Tom, and I exchanged glances. Should I be upset or secretly proud?
Tom: “What did you just say?!”
Lily: “What? I didn’t say anything.”
Tom: “Are you sure about that?”
Lily: “Seriously, Mom!”
In our family, we don’t have a swear jar because frankly, I need all the money I can get for Costco trips and my beloved lattes. Instead of calling them “bad words,” we refer to them as “adult words.” After all, swearing is just one of the fun perks of being a grown-up—like having wine and never having to sleep early. I try to keep my swearing under wraps, but you know how it is; sometimes life throws you a curveball, like hitting your head on a cabinet or getting cut off in traffic.
Growing up, my house was strictly no-swearing, which led to some serious swearing anxiety in my teenage years. I tried so hard to fit in and sound cool, but my friends would always say I was too innocent. Not my kids, though. I’m setting them up for a smooth transition into adulthood. The next time I overhear them, I’ll just raise my eyebrows and ask, “Where did you learn that?” to which they’ll probably roll their eyes and say, “Mom, come on.”
Farting
When I first met Tom, he was shocked that I never farted around him. I just knew he wasn’t ready for that side of me. But when I finally broke the seal, he was horrified—seriously, did he think it would smell like flowers?
In my family, passing gas was a bathroom-only affair. But I was not cut out for that kind of life, especially with my frequent stomachaches. Recently, while browsing at Ross, I decided to let one slip in the kids’ clothing aisle. I thought it would be a silent one.
It was not.
It echoed through the store like a siren, and I wanted to vanish into the clearance rack. Just then, my sweet 4-year-old, Max, was rummaging through the dresses, so I bent down and said loudly, “Oh sweetie, do you need to go potty?” Yeah, not my finest moment.
But hey, motherhood has its perks, and being a relaxed farting family is one of them. My kids have absolutely no gas shame, which can be a problem during road trips or in church.
Dancing
Now, let’s talk about dancing. I might not be the best dancer out there, but my enthusiasm knows no bounds. When my jam plays, I can’t help but move, and the kids follow suit! We have spontaneous dance parties in the car, at the grocery store, and even on the sidewalk. Think of it as a flash mob—just a really uncoordinated one.
Max is the exception; he confuses wrestling with dancing and tends to tackle his brother, which leads to a lot of yelling. He’s destined for mosh pits, I just know it.
Apologizing
Sometimes I react before my brain catches up, which means I end up saying “sorry” a lot. At first, I felt guilty about that, but one day I overheard my middle kids, Ava and Lucas, getting ready for school.
Lucas: “Ava, move! You’re in the way!”
*Pause* “Sorry, Ava, I shouldn’t have said that.”
Ava: “I forgive you.”
In that moment, I felt a swell of pride. None of us are perfect, and learning to apologize is a valuable skill to have.
So yes, we’re still reading great books and discussing kindness and confidence. But we’re also dancing and embracing the beauty of gas. I cherish my quirky little family just as we are.
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In conclusion, parenting is a wild ride filled with unexpected lessons, and I’m embracing every moment of it.
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