Swearing is Caring

There are many days when I can't wait until Ryan is old enough to swear. If this makes me a poor parent then so be it. But honestly I don't know what all the fuss is about anyway. Swearing doesn't always have to be a bad thing.

I'm typically a very positive person. I swear it. ... ha ha. Couldn't resist. But it's true. I am an optimist for the most part. My brother once said that I could find the good in anything. And I can. In fact I have. Since let's face it. Having a child with a genetic condition isn't exactly a walk in the park. For the most part I'm doing well finding the good. Making the best of things. And enjoying my view of what we know to be true. I don't worry what others think. Or what they might say behind our back. Because we know that Ryan is awesome. And that he's surrounded by family and friends that know this also.

But even positive people have moments. And even though Scott likes to refer to me as Flanders (the character on The Simpsons known for being extremely prude), I sometimes have the need to let out a few catchy four letter words. If you're really into the Simpsons, you may have heard that Flanders' conservative language has been said to be a result of buried anger from his upbringing. So even Flanders may need to let it all out once in a while. Perhaps swearing really is a good thing after all.

Maybe if Ryan didn't have dwarfism I wouldn't feel this way about swearing. But no matter how great of a view I create for our family, the world still has negativity in store. And dwarfism is often the center of this sort of attention. Little people are the butt of jokes. And are made fun of for simply existing. There's pointing and staring. Snickers and giggles. The degrading word "midget" is used to demean and label a person as insignificant. All of this is directed at a person who is just navigating their life like anyone else. A person shopping. Getting coffee. Riding the bus. Or on a vacation. Some people take it to the next level and shout out names. Or take pictures. The harassment is endless. And it's directed at adults and children. At children. How can this be?! We are talking about a child with a disability. About people that are sons, daughters, mothers and fathers. People. The world can be cruel. And Ryan will not have to take it.

We can't all be like Flanders. Plus, who knows if he's as happy as he seems. Ryan will swear and in the process, he'll manage his feelings in a way that releases tension and anger. Sure, I could teach him to meditate. Or to punch pillows. Or to "talk it out" with me or another trusted adult. But when you're upset beyond comprehension, shouting "Shuck-a-diddly-doo" and high-fiving a pillow just won't cut it.

Enter the "F Word" and all its relatives. When Ryan is confronted with negative people, he'll know that they aren't important. "Fuck those fuckers". This sentiment is dead on. And a bit abrupt I know. But I can't get past just how accurate it is. Ryan has a tight network of friends and family that love him. They are his friends at school. His teachers. His neighbors. His baseball team. And they all see him for who he is. Nothing more. Nothing less. And they are all that matter. When Ryan is upset and I tell him "Fuck those fuckers", I'm being a bit crude I know. But I'm also reminding him that he doesn't need the rude people in his life. And that he doesn't have to let them get to him. Who needs these people? Fuck 'em. It's crude. But it's true. And it doesn't have to be anything more than affirmation of how great Ryan is.

Since he's just five years old at the moment, I have a ways to go until he can utilize this expression. So in the meantime, I'll stick to the same message without the profanity. Sure, it's possible. And it's been working great for five years. So do I really need those four-letter words? Sorry Flanders. I fucking do.