Watching what we say.

I haven't been blogging, or reading blogs much these days. I have been a very busy bunny. Each day follows the same routine: I wake up and get my son and husband ready for work, drop the big guy off, and take the little guy to the gym with me (I am trying to shrink my circumference- I noticed a few weeks ago I had a few small moons orbiting around my ass). The gym is a sweaty and thus far, fruitless endeavor which has yet to yield any shrinkage. But I still go, clinging to the hope it will work eventually.

Next I head back home with Wil, we play a bit outdoors, or inside, have lunch and then he has a nap. While he naps, I check my email, and tackle the day's project. It could be packing, or gutting, or cleaning. Good times. Yesterday for example, I cleaned out the garage. Packed up what I could there, dodged spiders and large freakish blue ant like monstrosities that kept flying into my hair, and threw out a lot of junk.

Once the daily task is complete, I wake up the little guy and we a) go to park, b)play in the back yard, c) go to Little Feet d) go to the mall.

Then we pick up husband, get dinner, clean up, bathe boy, catch up with husband, go to bed, start the whole mess all over again the next day. Aren't you envious?

Yesterday I checked my email, and saw one from Karen, with the subject header "busted". In it was a link to Wayne's blog to a page where this blog was called out. It was a sad day folks.

It seems that Missing the Rock is one of the NL blogs with the highest Cuss rate. When I first read Wayne's post, I was indignant, my blog isn't that bad! I might let the odd shit and ass go, but rarely the F bomb! Did ya check out Adam Fire Fist Shows No Mercy Wayne? Did ya, huh?

And then, I remembered what happened the morning before, as we were rushing to get Don off to work on time, and Wil ready to go to the gym with me. First Don couldn't find his wallet, then I couldn't find my keys, then Wil was running off with his sandals. I chased after him, tackled the slippery little wiener and started putting on his sandals: "Come on Sweat Pea, help Mommy, we can't be late." I whispered, struggling to get them on his feet, then I realized his little toe was caught: "Oh Shit!" I said, flustered.

And then, in the sweetest voice, on a register and tone reserved only for angels and toddlers: "Oh Shit" followed by a giggle.

Oh shit indeed.

There are times when I have to watch my mouth, and by extension, what I type. I really do need to make an effort to watch what I say at home- because I have a young and impressionable audience (who is learning to talk). I must consider how I want him to speak. However, what I do here is a little different. I do tend to write very casually here, this is something I do because I enjoy it, I have fun with it. This isn't The New Yorker (thought they seem to get into enough trouble without the cussing) or The Globe and Mail. Nobody is paying to read what I write. (Sometimes I wonder if anyone is actually reading what I write) A few colorful metaphors here and there can't hurt- not here. Right?

Wayne's post made me wonder though. Should blogging be something that is a little more formal in tone? Do we need to censor ourselves? Do you think it bothers the average reader? What do you think?


Oh and for the record, this blog's cuss level was medium...See Wayne, I am no Andrew Dice Clay!



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