Educating Our Young

The youngest daughter, Jessie, and I were hanging out with the cake-baker/sanity-maker (and let's just call her Lis because, well, that's her name) while she was getting ready for a full day of rehearsals and gigs and we were watching her pick out her jewels because Lis is that sort of woman. She wears jewels. The more sparkly the better. Red jewels are her particular favorite, I think, although she is sure to spread out her jewel-love to all the jewels in her treasure box of jewels in order to prevent feelings of insecurity and divisiveness amongst the jewels.
She loves her jewels and they love her.
Lis is what I'd call a girly-girl. She wears petticoats and she wears skirts and she doesn't sweat. I have mentioned all of this before, but it's worth repeating. The girl does not sweat. I've seen her playing on a stage outside in August wearing the petticoat and the skirt and the pretty crocheted sweater, singing and playing guitar and NOT SWEATING. I'll be just sitting there watching her, drinking iced tea and wearing a sleeveless linen dress with sweat pouring from my body and that's before I have a hot flash.
It's like Lis has discovered some secret of girliness that I have yet to learn. Perhaps it's the jewels. I don't know.
Anyway, Lis said a sentence with the word "hell" in it while she was getting ready and she apologized because Jessie was in the room. We laughed and I said, "Jesus, Lis, our DOGS say hell."
It's funny. When my oldest kids were young, I tried to pretend around them that I did not curse mainly because I really did not want to hear my two-year olds saying things like, "What the fuck?" if they spilled their milk or broke a crayon.
Some people think such language from a baby is cute but I tend to think it's just tacky.
Just my opinion.
But by the time Jessie, my fourth child, was in high school, I gave up any semblance of pretense and just started letting it all fly, including the f-word and she thinks it's funny and sometimes she curses too.
Which brings us back to Lis and the apology for saying hell.
Because Lis loves to curse too. This girly-girl woman with the petticoats and sparkly jewelry who does not sweat can throw around the salty language as well as anyone I know, which is one of the many, many reasons I adore her.
So the three of us were laughing at the silliness of Lis apologizing for such an innocent word and I said, "Jessie is already a member of the Women Who Curse Club."
Lis said, "We should have an initiation dinner. Wouldn't that be fun?"
And I said, "Yeah. We would say things like, 'Hey? Where's that fucking bitch waitress? Hey bitch, bring me some more motherfuckin' tea.' And so forth."
We thought that was pretty funny but of course we'd have to tell the waitress what was going on and invite her to curse with us and then leave her a really good tip because we're that kind of women. We may use profanity but we are considerate. We're southern women, for goodness sake!
I think it's important for the older women to pass on their wise ways to the younger ones. Don't you? Things like how to wear make fig preserves, biscuits and martinis, how to breastfeed and crochet, how to wear jewels and petticoats, and of course how to use the word fuck in all its many permutations and glorious forms.
And, like most things we hand down to our children, it is best to learn from example.
So Lis and I are just doing our fucking job the best we fucking can and it makes us proud, watching Jessie grow up and being beautiful and smart and funny and such a great dancer and mandolin player who can make fresh peach sorbet from scratch and who is becoming a Woman Who Can Curse.
It makes me a little sad that my older children have had to learn to use profanity from the streets, which is the way I learned it too, because really, I think it's best for children to learn from the positive and loving role models they may be fortunate enough to have in their lives.
Like their mamas and women who wear sparkly jewelry and petticoats.
Jessie is so lucky to have us.
She fucking knows it, too.