Potty mouth...

I can't... no wait...let me start over.

I won't... stop swearing.  

A "Gosh Darn It" when I accidentally drop my $200 hairdryer on the bathroom floor doesn't fit nearly as well as a "F-cking D-mmit all to H-ll."  

I actually like to swear. It lets me express the magnitude of how I feel. And sometimes my feelings are bigger than an "Ooooh shoot!"

Like yesterday, when a certain young man on the street couldn't be bothered to hold the door to Duane Reade for Oliver and me. He let the door slam into my stroller and woke Oliver up from his nap.  I felt a "Hey thanks, A$$-Hole!" was completely appropriate. 

Or, like last week when I was in the grocery store, and I asked the woman who was stocking the food where the Kosher Salt was. She replied with a snarky, "How the hell should I know." To me, only a f$cking whoresack could act like that to a customer.

I don't just use swearing for insults. I use them to express my feelings as well.

For example: Stub my toe = F-CK!!!!! Can you really just say oops?

I come from a long line of cussers.  My Mom, my Dad, hell even my Grandma swears with the best of them. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, like an 88 year old woman calling a taxi driver an A$$ Hole for aggressively taking a yellow light.

Brett has asked me tone this habit of mine down before Oliver starts to talk.  

I'll try. I want to be a d-mn good mother. I really do think it's important for me to model how a lady acts since eventually hopefully Oliver will find one to marry. 

But I know, and Brett knows, and you know, there's no changing a leopard or zebra's dots or whatever the f-ck they have.  

I'm gonna burn in h-ll.