Okay, I admit it. I used to suffer from extreme potty mouth. I liked all those four letter words, but especially the f-bomb. It’s just so versatile (as my hubby says).

After my first daughter was born, my husband decided it was time to put the kibosh on all the swearing. He didn’t want his precious daughter showing up at preschool swearing a blue streak. Thus, the “swear kitty” was born. This ingenious device was meant to hold all the money I had to pay each time I used a bad word (with half-price swearing during Canucks’ games). Well, after I filled the thing many times over in the first day or two, I decided to punt it and take matters into my own hands.

I stopped swearing. Well, at least under most normal circumstances and within earshot of my daughter.

But now I fear it has turned me into a swearing-prude. I really don’t like to hear curse words much anymore. Especially shouted out windows in fits of road rage, and used casually in everyday conversation in front of my kids, by oblivious teenagers. (Aren’t teenagers just 6 foot tall 2-year-olds?)

So that got me thinkin’ about other ways in which prudishness has sneaked up on me. I don’t particularly think people should live together before they get married (I lived with my husband for 5 years before we got married). I shocked myself when I realized that one. We did what? Good gracious.

Is it age, or just that my memory is failing? Who knows. But by the time my own kids are teenagers, I’m sure they’ll think I’ve completely forgotten that I was once very young and very foolish.