how to
How to Stop the Curse of the Cursing Kid
I’m salty. I admit colorful language seeps through my filter, especially in situations when emotions are elevated. If my toe is stubbed, I don’t say, “Golly cookies!” When miffed, “Sweet beans!” isn’t my go-to way to let the world know how I feel about spending more than $100 on a tank of gas. I try to be mindful when my kids are around, but sometimes little ears hear words straight out of a can of Morton’s Iodized. Salty. Avoiding the big bad naughty words is important to me. If a word is banned in courtrooms, classrooms, or on sidelines, I probably shouldn’t use it to describe my disappointment that the hot dog buns are stale or the diaper has leaked. My downfall are the words that linger in the fuzzy grey area. My kids pick up on the...
How to survive a school pickup line
From Kindergarten to Too Cool to be Seen On a Bus (November of sophomore year,) I rode the lumbering yellow limousine to school. The driver was fond of banging a small broom on the dashboard if it got too loud and she never let us open windows. It was a mostly-miserable experience, but we assumed a bus was the only way to get to and from school. Back in the day, parents enjoyed themselves. They waved goodbye while still pajama’d, clutching a coffee mug, smiling broadly, probably waiting to go back inside and dance to the Grease soundtrack and eat our sugary cereal all day. My mom only drove us if we missed the bus. As our seething mom sped to school, we wished we were with Mean Bus Driver Lady and her broom. Now, fewer kids are bussed. Budget cuts, high bus fees, and the ability to c...
