One of the less discussed joys of parenting is the part where the sadistic experimental side overtakes the reasonable parent, turning them into a mischeivous, cackling fool of schemes, entirely at the child’s expense. It’s the same thing that makes children pull the legs off of insects, just to see what will happen.

You know what I’m talking about. When the kid starts eating solid foods, there’s that urge deep inside to stick a lemon wedge or a dill pickle in his mouth, just to see what happens. The kid grows hair and there’s the inability to keep yourself from sticking ponytails all over her head, jutting out in every direction like some hideous spiney pufferfish hairdo. Just because you can.

This week, I discovered something unbelievably fascinating that fed my sadistic tendencies for a really embarassingly long period of time … VELCRO STICKS TO DIAPERS.

This opens up a whole new realm of possibilities…

dooce: Death to Ed

I was reading the above entry (yes, I’m behind again in my blog reading) and the part where she asked her doctor if she could keep the removed cancer spot reminded me about the time we had our dog neutered.

One of his nuts was genetically deformed and hadn’t dropped completely, so they had to go in and surgically remove it, which created a slightly more complicated procedure than your average neuter. He had to wear a cone to keep him from licking the wound and it got all inflamed and red and was really bothering him.

I mean red to the point that, while home alone with him that night, I actually thought I was seeing blood puddle below his skin and became convinced that he was bleeding internally (ignore the part where I thought the blood would be red under the skin instead of blue…my dog’s life was in danger, I wasn’t thinking clearly). So I (gently) threw him in the car and rushed him to the nearest Pet Emergency Clinic where the on-duty vet laughed at me with his European accent and informed me that I was too stupid to own a dog, that there was nothing wrong with this perfectly normal sewn-up gash in my child’s dog’s rear. He then charged me $75 for the service and sent me home poor and humiliated. I didn’t tell J about that night (and I tell J EVERYTHING), and I didn’t intend to, until he was going through some papers on the desk and wanted to know why we had a receipt for $75 at the Emergency Vet Care Clinic.

But my humiliation really wasn’t the point of this story when I embarked on it. I hate getting distracted like that - why does it always end up with my discussing something embarassing?

Probably because I have a lot of embarassing moments. When I was in 6th grade, I came up with a coping mechanism for all those times I suffered the complete mortification of watching my entire life melt before my eyes. It seems I was habitually finding myself in the situation of having just done something incredibly dumb that would follow me the rest of my life and ensure that I would be home alone watching Saved by the Bell re-runs on Prom night.

When I found the entire world flogging me with the STARE in the aftermath of one of those moments, I would mentally spell “Embarassing” three times and by the time I got through the third spelling, the moment had usually passed enough that I could pull myself up off the ground and continue on my way, stopping every once in a while to pick up the pieces of my shattered self esteem.

About a year later, I came to the realization that I had actually been misspelling the word.

But I’m getting distracted again.

So when we went to pick up our poor, wounded, decapacitated puppy from the clinic after his surgery, they explained the procedure and why he had stitches and a cone and what we needed to do to care for him.

Then they held up his testacle in a plastic bag and asked us if we wanted to keep it.

And we’re like, are you NUTS? (Ba-dum-ching!)

Thank you, thank you very much. I’ll be here all week.

I was listening to the radio a few days ago and realized a few seconds after hearing it that the station had not bleeped out the “f” word in the song.

I’m not sure if that was unintentional (seems hard to miss) or if the laws regarding swearing in song lyrics on public stations have changed, but it did get me thinking.

My generation is significantly less sensitized to such words than the generation before me.  I read multiple instances of every imaginable variation of “fuck” in blocks every day and just sort of pass over it without even noticing.  And I’m very aware that younger generations are more and more exposed to that kind of language, as I find myself shocked to overhear young children using words that my mother would have slapped me silly for.

So it appears that the verbage we were instructed never, never to let pass our lips on pain of death and sure passage to hell is becoming less and less offensive to each generation.

And what makes a word “offensive” anyway?  It’s certainly not the meaning.  I can talk about poop to any mommy on the block, but refrain from using the word “shit” in most company.

It’s not the usage of the word that makes it offensive.  Nobody bats an eye when a four year old yells “Oh fiddlesticks!” (that’s a southern phrase, for you who are wondering what nonsense I just typed). But that same child would have his mouth washed out by substituting a shorter word.

So what is it that gives curse words their significance?  I guess it’s nothing more than the culture.  I generally refrain from using the words, not because I think the devil will claim my soul should I utter one, but out of respect for those around me who might still be offended by them.

But as previously mentioned, the culture is changing.  Which leads me to wonder if we will eventually have a society in which there are no “forbidden” words…or will some numnuts start making up new words and labeling them as profane?  Who knows.  Personally, I hope for the former.  I think it would be an improvement if everybody could use all the words they wanted to without being considered offensive.

I’m speaking strictly of curse words here.  I know there will always be ways to make vocabulary offensive in tone and context, but I’m just speaking of words that are offensive because they are words.

But I do hope for a world without profanity because really, I think that the whole idea of “no-no” words is kind of stupid.

1. Stupid mouse incessantly wigging out and sporadically jumping all over the screen when I try to use it.
2. WordPress plugins that somehow work for EVERYFREAKINGBODYELSE but not for me.  And do not come with support help.
3. Baby crawling, learning to walk, equipped with inexplicable gravitational pull toward any and all objects that could be potentially hazardous or lethal. Where’s that padded room I ordered?

She took FIVE STEPS today.  IN A ROW.

Eghad.