Oh, %#*#@!!!

The other day I received an email from my girlfriend and she told me about her rotten day. Later she forwarded an email she received from her company's email techies -- seems they frown on using expletives on the company email. It is such a part of my vernacular that I didn't even notice it in the email.

I know better. I was taught (by parents, teachers, adults I admire)that swearing was unladylike and a cross between laziness and ignorance. I failed that lesson and I fail it often. (Although I am extremely careful around children and in business situations.)

There's an article in this week's Time magazine that quotes a study in the journal NeuroReport. The study found that cussing does more than vent frustration; it can actually reduce physical pain. The example used is women giving birth are far more likely to blurt out a choice cuss word -- or a string of them -- when the same woman would never use such language on a regular basis.

In a moment of complete insanity, I volunteered to serve as liturgist in church this Sunday. My recurring nightmare is flubbing something and then dropping the F bomb.

I won't. But my peon brain is having a party making me think about the possibility. I'd really hate to have to find a new church.

Mothering

One of my favorite stories is when a girlfriend and her husband told their daughter the facts of life ... the details of how a baby comes into this world. Her response was an incredulous, "You did that for me?!"



This morning in church, the young children handed out carnations to the mothers in the congregation. I hesitated on whether or not to raise my hand.

I did not birth children. Whenever someone asks me if I have children, I always feel a bit like a fraud if I answer "yes." I do, but I share them. I did not go through the normal channels of:

First comes love,
Then comes marriage,
Then comes Sheri pushing a baby carriage.

My minor medical issues could've been overcome. But I also had enough brain cells clicking to ask myself, "Is this really the man you want your children to spend every other weekend with?"

Then I met and married the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. His two children became mine. Because I was given that gift. Because I grabbed it and craved it. Because I was taught by example that a mother's love comes from many who mother.

This afternoon I was still reflecting on mother's day, my goddaughters, the many women who have been a blessing to me. I was working myself into a pretty good funk about coulda, woulda, shoulda ...

My phone beeped and I read this text:

"Hi Mom. Happy Mother's Day. I'm at my cousin's graduation and I'll call you later."

Happy Mother's Day to me.

"Children love me. I'm the best mother they never had."
Anonymous