Polly want a #@$%ing cracker?

I like to cuss. To borrow a great quote from the holiday classic, A Christmas Story:

"My father worked in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay. It was his true medium, a master."

That pretty much summed it up for me. But, then we had kids. Actually, before we had kids, we had friends who had kids and it quickly became apparent that my F-dash-dash-dash days needed to be in the rearview. I needed to break my cuss habit. Quick. So, I tried. Even before Boy #1 could talk, I tried to watch what I said in front of him, and in general. I'm human, I've failed on occasion, but overall I cut back from a two pack a day type habit, to a few puffs, here and there. None to soon either, the elder Boy is now in the parrot stage. Repeats most everything said. The biggest obstacle for me is my temper. Again, to quote A Christmas Story:

"I have since heard of people under extreme duress speaking in strange tongues. I became conscious that a steady torrent of obscenities and swearing of all kinds was pouring out of me as I screamed.

That generally is when I'll let a bad word slip. At other times, my fondness for cursing gets the better of me, and I say a no-no without much thought, only to see the Boy(s) nearby, and realize that my cussing in no es bueno.

It is amazing to hear what you say repeated back to you from the mouth of a two year old child. Often funny, sometimes sad, and on more than one occasion, scary. I have a hard time seeing myself in either the younger or the older Boy(s). People say they look like me, especially the Little Warrior. I don't see it. I see more Carter. I see my parents at times. Mom in Ethan's eyes. Dad in Ethan's strong physique and in Wyatt's face. But not me which is strange since many say I look like my parents. The point, yes, I have a point, is that, what I do see in the Boy(s) are my actions. The good, and the bad.

Never is it more evident than when Ethan repeats something that he has heard me say.

I'm working late tonight. Long day away from the home fires. Hard evening, work is work, greater things are on my mind. Dog Dog is out of food. For those who've read a Cup Closer To Death, well, sadly the cup is empty.

Until I BLOG again...Light a candle, say a prayer for Dog Dog...Sophie.