Fake it, 'til you make it

Now, I normally don't use a lot of swear words on this blog. I just don't think it's necessary. And when I do use swear words (such as in my previous post) - I do so only when the artistic integrity of the piece calls for it. Yep.

Anyway, in real life I do swear like a trooper. I feel that in the big performance art piece that is my life, my artistic integrity demands I use the F word. A lot. But what do you around kids? I can't just slap a parental advisory sticker on my mouth. Rex L Camino has been exploring this theme of cooing and swearing at the tiny bundles of joy:

...all my friends began having babies and expected me to come and look at their babies. I didn’t want to ask about using foul language since they were always so quick to turn down my request to smoke around the runt, but the tension that came from trying not to scar the fragile offspring quickly made these “baby introductions” the most nerve-racking of social endeavors.

I'm concious that we're expecting a baby, and I'm also aware I don't want to be raising one of those rat faced feral kids that swear and smoke cigarettes at 15 and know how to siphon gas and hot wire cars and stuff. (I'd like to aim higher - like hacking and insider trading). I don't want a kid that's turned out of nursery for saying the F word - just like mommy.

I was discussing this with my husband whose mouth is not quite as gutterish as mine:

Me: Do you sometimes feel like we're going to have to pretend to be better people than we are?
Him: Oh, yes. And then maybe we'll become those people.
Me: Yeah, right.
Him: It's called growing up.