A cross between Homer Simpson and Jimmy Rabbitte – post-pandemic chaos is the perfect storm for foul-mouthed parenting

Paul Sheridan

Paul with his children

June 30 2022 02:47 PM

Listening to the latest episode of Richard Herring’s Leicester Square Theatre Podcast (RHLSTP to the initiated), the host and comedian Alan Davies discuss cursing in front of their children. Which both admit doing… frequently.

As I emptied the dishwasher while laughing along, a chill suddenly ran through my veins and I realised, I too am a frequent curser in front of my kids. In fact, if there was a world cup for saying the F word in front of five to seven years olds, I would be Brazil.

But once the cold feeling of shock abated, I was calm. Calm in the knowledge that I am not alone. Calm in the knowledge that I am in good company. Calm in the knowledge that telling your five-year-old to “hurry the f*** up” at 8.55am before the short walk to school is, dare I say it, normal.

You see, parenting post-pandemic is a strange beast. You don’t have the comfort and stability of lockdown, where letting kids watch endless hours of YouTube Kids unmonitored was par for the course. They had nowhere to be, so the stresses of getting washed, dressed and out the door were non-existent. The biggest problems each day were feeding them and stopping them from killing each other. Bar that, it was grand.

But that’s all in the past.

Now we live in the post-lockdown world. A haze of blended working and school pick-ups and playdate drop-offs. This world is no fun. Not for me anyway. You are never quite sure where you are meant to be. I am in a constant state of confusion. Am I doing the after-school pick-up or is my wife? Am I in the office today or the kitchen? What day is it? What month is it? What time are we allowed buy drink at?

This all combines to create a perfect foul-mouthed form of parenting that any 70s and 80s parents would be proud of. There are plenty of cries of “F*** SAKE!” and “BO****KS!” before they’ve even done ‘What it Says in the Papers’ on Morning Ireland, as I try to locate a missing hairband or a rogue runner.

I used to worry that this was messing up my kids. But, of course, it isn’t.

Because they find it funny. They think I am an idiot, a cross between Homer Simpson and Jimmy Rabbitte. The more I curse, the more they laugh. The more they laugh, the more I curse (out of frustration rather than some sort of attention-seeking madness – I think).

And now the dreaded summer holidays have landed. The cries of boredom will intensify. The organised “fun” will reach epic proportions. From pre-arranged playdates to soccer camps to swimming lessons to cinema trips. From smiling at parents whose names I don’t know to waving at kids whose names I should. The summer stress factor will increase with each passing day. And stress, to paraphrase the great Jedi master Yoda, leads to the Dark Side.

Or in my case, cursing like a docker in front of my kids.

Some of you will think this is abhorrent, but I don’t. I was brought up in the late 1970s and 80s. I experienced cursing. It was part of growing up. And the older I got the more I’ve realised how important it is. How Irish people curse on a different level to everyone else. We are true artists when it comes to cursing.

So in reality I am doing my kids a favour, educating them in the fine art of using bad language to express myself. I can only hope they learn from me, and my outbursts, and when it comes to cursing in front of their own kids, they won’t shy away from the odd F-bomb or random “B****KS!) before the watershed.

Because if they don’t, I will be very f***ing disappointed.