I am a sweary mummy. Deal with it.

Should you swear in front of the little people? Of course not. But we bet you’ve got nothing on this mum.

I am dropping the F-bomb like crazy and I’m a better mum for it.

Let me explain.

I banged my head on the car boot door recently and my kids were around, so I said “Mother flipper!” But it didn’t help. So I yelled “MOTHER-******!” really loudly and it helped.

It felt so good that when my shopping bag split and all the cherry tomatoes rolled into the gutter and my 18-month-old ran out onto the road while I was trying to pick them up, I screamed, “****************!’

It really made me feel better.

This may be wrong, and I am sure there will be potty-mouth-police judgement, but I have started swearing around my kids. And I can’t stop.

Gone are the days of “Sugar!” “Whoopsie!” and “Flippetty Jibbit!”

The S-bomb, F-bomb and even the occasional whispered C-bomb are back and I’ve never felt calmer or more in control. All these years of holding the words in and letting the tension build up until I scream “STUFF IT!” like a banshee and feel totally hysterical are gone.

Just let it out, people.

I don’t actually swear at my kids, just around them, and it releases the steam in my head and I think I am a better mother for it.

I'm not saying you should get on board, but it feels good. Just be aware that it's a slippery slope. "BUGGER!" is a gateway word.

The other day I had a particularly hard day with the kids. You know the ones? The baby tipped a whole bag of Rice Bubbles on his head. My daughter had meltdown after meltdown about Barbie’s missing shoe, a broken muesli bar and all those other crippling problems that toddlers endure. It was a very long day, where time seems to limp along and wine o'clock seems so far away.


I was trying to get them in the bath while my son was biting my arm and my daughter was doing the 'leg kicking and screaming on the floor' thing. A sensible person would have left the room and taken a deep breath. But I put my hands over my ears, closed my eyes and sang "F***', very softly, over and over again to the tune of 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'.

When I had finished, both kids were looking at me in a ‘beware of the crazy lady’ kind of way and it was so unexpected that they stopped the horrible behaviour. I also felt better, because I didn't yell at anyone.

Then the bath went well. We had fun.

Yes, I know that kids copy our behaviour, but kids learn to swear anyway. And I am proud of not yelling as much or losing my temper at them.

My potty mouth has made me a better parent. Along with wine and the occasional run around the block.

That’s my story and I’m f***ing well sticking to it.

This post originally appeared on Born Without A Manual and has been republished here with full permission. 

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