I have a big problem:  I have a potty mouth.  There, I said it.  I would think that this is something that many people relate to, but I can't speak for everyone.  Until a year and a half ago, it wasn't something that I was ashamed of, or even something I wanted to change.  I was in the Army, am in a profession with mostly potty-speaking men, so it is just a part of life.  It wasn't even something I was AWARE of until my then-two year old dropped the "F" bomb.  At two.  Not only did he say it, but he said it with such precision and perfect flow.  Now, at the time that occurred (a year and a half ago), it was funny.   It was harmless, because our little boy said it in the truck with us.  Not in public, no one harmed or offended.  Even so, I tried to curb the profanity and set a better example.  I thought I was doing well.  Fast forward to January of this year, when the bad word was dropped, and it wasn't so funny.  Our ten year old, Anthony, was being harassed at school by a classmate.  Rather than taking the high-road and ignoring this other child, my super-smart son lost his common sense and told him to f-off.  Naturally, I received a phone call.  And naturally, I was embarrassed.  For the first time in my adult life, I was embarrassed by profanity.  I was embarrassed because my child learned such offensive language from me.  Me.  A mother who is supposed to be setting the example, who is supposed to be teaching her children how to gracefully handle every curveball life throws us.  So, as I am profusely apologizing to Anthony's teacher, I realize that the problem is not with my son, but with me.  I have a problem.  I cuss.  And now, apparently, so do my children. 

If there were only support groups for something like this.

Anthony was pretty terrified that he was going to be grounded for life, as this was his first phone call home during school hours.  It was actually kind of cute to see him peak around the corner with "the look" on his face.  Trying to set a good example, as I should have been doing from the get-go, I sat down with him and apologized for setting him up for failure.  Since there is no support group, my son is my support.  We talked about the bad language, and ways to express one-self without using improper language.  I promised to watch what I say, if he in turn would promise never to utter the bad words again.  We shook on it, and my son hugged me, then patted my back and told me he believed in me.  (I am half crying and laughing hysterically because my son was being sarcastic....he thinks I will fail miserably!!) 

So now, thanks to the Orbitz gum commercial, some supportive coworkers, and my children pointing out the obvious (with a pointed finger and the typical "Oooooooooh!!"), I have kicked the habit at home.  I now say things like "son of a biscuit eating bulldog" instead of profanity!  I am so proud of myself!   Now, almost cuss-free, I wonder if I have started a new problem.  This morning, I made French toast for Jackson (age four).  As I am preparing it, I hear him drop a toy and yell "what the French, toast?!"  Yep, I have a problem.