New habits for the old

Mom has a new habit—swearing. And trust me any impatient person reaching the grand old age of 92 has a lot to swear about.

At this point there’s still enough of Mom’s normally nice nature that most of her cursing is aimed at either herself or the over-long commercials on television. But, the odd time when I’ve annoyed her just a bit toooo much, I see those dirty little words dancing in her darkening eyes.

It won’t be long.

My saving grace may well be that I know way more variations of dirty words. (At least I think I do). I’m even made up the odd one. One in particular I really liked and it lived inside my head like a whirling dervish till the day I made the mistake of sharing it with my husband. Well, man-wonder grabbed it and ran with it. Took the joy right out of it for me. . .and I so like my ‘special’ secret words.

Maybe I should go look up the meaning of the word secret again. . .

But I digress.

Most often Mom’s choice of curse is either ‘dammit’ or ‘shit’. Which isn’t so bad unless she isn’t wearing her hearing aid. For a little old lady, she can really squawk out the sounds.  And, let’s just say, I’m looking forward to the cooler weather and being able to close windows.

Okay, that’s maybe a slight exaggeration—unless it happens during the middle of the night (when the hearing aid is on the nightstand).

Nothing like a foghorn level ‘dammit’ blaring the sleep right out of your eyeballs at 3 am. Like last night. But we have learned to stay in bed, hands soothing pounding hearts, and wait. If another curse follows it’s a signal something is amiss but if silence follows—she is dreaming, and all is well.

Last night silence was the tailgater, and happily, sleep slipped back into the sheets with us.

And now, please excuse me for I feel a nap drifting in.

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