At the SpouseBuzz event at Fort Hood, one of the questions asked of the panel I was on was, "How do you deal with deployments."
Now, everyone else had great answers; ways to keep busy, meditation techniques, Mom's Pajama Day. Typically, my answer wasn't anywhere near as thought out or helpful... because my coping mechanism is to curse like a drunken cowboy who forgot his six-shooter at the OK Corral. Really, it is that bad. The f-word and I are well acquainted. Some might say that we're close, personal friends.
In a moment of horror last week, I realized that the stream of invective issuing forth from my gaping mouth (in the privacy of my bedroom, by the way, not as a sort of Vaudeville Show to entertain my children in the living room) sounded remarkably close to a song from my teenage years done by 2Live Crew.
Don't get me wrong, I can control it. I do slip in front of my children, and to try to counter that I do a little dance routine that involves saying, "Wow! Mommy's mouth was VERY naughty!" and some fake spitting as if I'm trying to rid myself of the cuss residue. The humiliation of going through that song and dance routine in the BX or Commissary is enough to keep my mouth relatively free and clear when it counts.
However, one of the problems with controlling my potty mouth tendencies is the build up. If I spend a day with people I can't say "crap" around (much less anything more loaded), I have to get rid of some steam later on.
Today my solution was to go into my bathroom, shut the window (very important - I live on base and I don't want the SP's showing up to see who is murdering whom. Anyone who has ever met me would assume that it was airforcewife in the study with the candlestick in a fit of obscene rage; and not only can I not afford a legal dream team, but Johnnie Cochran is no longer available), jumped up and down, and let out a howl from the very depths of my stomach.
It felt very, very good.
I'm thinking I just might do it more often.