You've got your children to document everything for you. Sure, it's through the lens of whatever age they're at, but still it's a lens.
I was talking to my boys last week about YouTube, the pros and the cons. I reminded them (they're six and twelve) that they cannot be in a room alone with the computer and that they cannot watch a channel I don't approve first.
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"Why?" asked Liam, the six year old, because that's what kids his age do.
"Because there might be bad language," I said, "and I don't want you hearing that."
"Like the eight times that you said #$&*?" Liam said. His older brother started laughing but immediately closed his mouth when he got the stink eye from me.
"I don't say that," I said. There is nothing so comforting as denial, really. It's better than a warm blanket, a tub of Ben and Jerry's, or a nap alone.
"Yes, you do. You said it when we went to that hair place and we were driving home."
"Why?"
"I don't know. You had a reason I just don't know what."
"When else?" I asked. I was out to prove this kid wrong.
"When the car almost hit us, when we were walking the dogs, when I accidentally shot you in the face with the microwave." I stopped him there.
"When you shot me in the face with the microwave?" I questioned. What the heck?
"You know that thing that we used to clean up the glass when the front door broke?"
"The shop vac," I reminded him.
"Yeah, the shop vac. I thought it was on suck but it was on blow and I shot you in the face with all the glass. Then you said it."
Oh, I remembered. Who doesn't remember a face full of glass?
"Well, I think it was called for then," I said. "That really hurt. When else?"
"I don't remember. Lots of times." Liam was ready to move on from this conversation I could tell. His brother, on the other hand, was ready to keep it going. He looked downright gleeful.
"Oh, yeah. You say it all the time," Spencer smugly said.
"Well, I had no idea that you found my language so offensive," I told my boys.
My girls had wandered in by this point and added to the conversation and shared some of their favorite foul-language moments. I was starting to feel a little bad.
"I think it's funny, Mom." Kiley said. Of course the oldest child would side with me.
"Well, I think it's crude and people who use language like that lack imagination," Laurel said. Of course my second born would not side with me.
We sat in silence for a few moments, marinating in memories of my best expletive moments.
Finally I spoke.
"Well, if that's the worst of it, that's not too bad," I said.
They spoke at the same time.
"Oh, no. That's not the worst."
"There've been LOTS of others."
"That time you called that guy in the other car..."
"You said #$%^ too. I remember that."
I looked at my brood, my own personal mistake keepers, little recorders disguised as humans. I realized I was never going to win the battle I had begun.
"Well, what the #@*#? Who wants to go out for lunch?"