Origins of the F-Bomb

I was in the laundry room last weekend, folding the mountain of laundry and half-listening to David and Kate talk to one another. From three rooms away, I heard something hit the floor followed by Kate jabbering something in her Kate way. I heard David ask, “What did you just say?”

She obliged him and repeated her word. “Fuck.”

David’s footsteps were suddenly coming in my direction. He pushed through the laundry room doors and looked at me with raised eyebrows. “I just dropped something on the floor and Kate said fuck!”

“No she didn’t.” I responded. “She said walk, it just comes out sounding like fuck.”

“No. She said fuck.” His eyebrows were climbing dangerously higher as he shot me a look of silent blame, then turned and left doors swinging in his wake.

It’s my fault. I’ll take the blame on this one, although, he isn’t immune to dropping the F-Bomb…let’s just make that clear. But the truth of the matter is that Kate spends the majority of her time in my presence. Who else would she have learned that filthy word from? Plus, her timing and usage of the F Word reeks of my frustrated responses to a dropped object. You know when you’re trying to rush three children out the door and you’re running slightly behind then a snack cup of Cheerios that you’re struggling to fill implodes all over the floor? Well, I might not realize it in the moment, but I’m quite sure that my response to the Cheerios rolling across the floor is a hearty, “FUCK!”

Can I share something else with you? I’m ashamed of my foul mouth. I am. Really. I’ve dug into the deep dark recesses of my brain, attempting to recover the memory of exactly who it was that swore like a sailor in my childhood. In that very Generation X way, I want to blame someone else for causing my foul mouthed outbursts. But who? I don’t remember anyone swearing quite as much as I do. Maybe it was my brother’s fault. He was five years older and I emulated him. I followed him and his friends around when they didn’t know I was following them. Pre-teen boys swear a lot, don’t they?

Once, I spied my brother and our neighbor sitting in a truck at our farm. Their heads bent over something that was out of my line of sight. I watched from the horse barn until my curiosity got the best of me, then meandered in their direction, dragging a stick through the dirt, I pretended to stumble upon them purely by accident. They were so engrossed in their magazine that they had no idea I was there until it was too late to hide the outdated issue of Hustler. “Whatcha doin’?”

I’ll never forget the look of guilty surprise on my brother’s face. As if they had been delivered an electrical shock, those two boys jumped and let out a startled sound that sounded a bit like a tiny yipping dog, courtesy of their changing voices. “NOTHING! GET OUT OF HERE!” Of course, being the annoying little sister, I completely ignored his seemingly harsh response to my perfectly reasonable query. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

courtesy Google image search

“Get the FUCK OUTTA HERE!” He yelled in his high-pitched cracky changing voice. Okay, I don’t remember if that’s exactly what he said, but I do remember him yelling at me and his voice cracked. As he was yelling, he stuffed the red, dog-eared magazine under his leg. I shrugged and went on my merry way. I walked off nonchalantly dragging my stick through the dirt and acting as though I hadn’t seen a thing. I feigned complete disinterest in their smut and I allowed him to believe that I was stupid. But I went back. Yes, sir I sure did! After they had gone off to do some weird boy stuff, I went back and snooped in that old truck by the chicken coop. I found what I was looking for behind the driver’s seat. It was filled with the F Word, in every sense of the word.

Yeah, it’s totally my brother’s fault.


  1. Slidecutter says:

    I blame it on your Sister.

  2. Dwija {House Unseen} says:

    I am getting worse at controlling my mouth over the years. I mean, you can only tell the same person the same exact thing for so long before you feel the need to punctuate it with some choice vocabulary, ya know?

  3. Totally your brother's fault 😉

    For me it was a bad apple kid and her bad ass marine dad who swore all the time. The first time I ever heard the word fuck was when she was telling me her dad told her mom if they were the last people on earth he'd have sex with his daughters to repopulate. I had to ask her what the word meant but even as a 5th grader it sounded wrong to me. Now that I am older I am even more disturbed, but I think her parents got enough revenge having their daughter hear them and tell everyone about it.

  4. Missy (& various in Transplant blog) says:

    I can have my "FUCK!" moments, too. I think as a Stay At Home mom, we are entitled to drop an F-bomb here and there.

  5. @Amy-eeeeeeeeeeuw. That's so wrong…in so many ways. The poor girl.

  6. Oh Lord hahahah – I remember when my brother was 2, he would drop his blanket on the floor on purpose (mind you, he would do this in public places like ToysRUs, the Mall, the Movies….DisneyLand) and scream at the top of his lungs "AWWW FUCK!" and giggle giggle giggle non stop afterwards. I blame it on…the dog?

  7. The Coexist Cafe says:

    I didn't say "fuck" until I was in 8th grade… and I was goaded into it by other band members, who though little Stephie was so sweet and innocent and she'd never say "fuck."

    But I was very astute with other dirty words, like when I was 12 or so and called my sister a bitch. I still taste the Dial bar soap my mom used to wash my mouth out when I say it. 😉

  8. TexaGermaNadian says:

    We aren't huge cussers around here, but it comes with the hockey territory. I am just hoping our first borns first words aren't dirty little ones 😉 lol. Totally your brothers fault, btw! lol

  9. my3littlebirds says:

    Oh man, I have a potty mouth too. I've never met a social worker who doesn't actually. I have yet to hear my kids drop the F bomb though. I must be a better mom than you, Kelli. Yeah, that's it : )

  10. @Birds-you might be onto something with the social worker thing…my undergrad is sociology/criminology. Maybe people like us just inherently cuss like truck drivers.
    @Tex-Maybe I should blame my HS/college BF, that lousy hockey playing jerk! (I am in no way calling your hubs a jerk btw..)
    @Coexist-no amount of soap could stop my filthy mouth. Just ask my mom.
    @KY-that makes me laugh and scared all at the same time.

  11. Eschelle says:

    lol my hubby has a construction workers mouth… thankfully it is cleaner in the home than at the work site but still lol! But my kids yell at him and eldest says "no say da word daddy, no say that word!!"

  12. I drop the F Bomb so much I don't even hear it anymore haha.

  13. It was totally the older sibling…my older sis taught me all kinds of naughty stuff. Nothing is EVER my fault!!

  14. Katie @ Chicken Noodle Gravy says:

    I cuss like a sailor. When we first met, I think my husband was horribly put off by it. He just wasn't used to nice "ladies" cursing all the time, but he's gotten (more or less) used to it. When I'm driving, I'm an f-bomb machine. "Eff you, idiot that cut me off!" "Get off my effin' tail, stupid tailgater!" Except a little more colorful with fun and dirty nouns as well.

    Yeah, you can definitely blame this on your brother. My older sister turned me from a pure innocent child to a stinkin' little cuss…

  15. Dwija {House Unseen} says:

    Oh lordy, I do love my stalkers! I just read what you wrote over on Katie's post, and then I came over here and saw myself on your love page and I'm all "What the what???" because I am, like, in over my head. Or something.

    Moral of the story: I am grabbin' your button in an effort to achieve that utopian society post haste! 😉

    p.s. It is 12:26 a.m. and my ramblings, yes, are inane.

  16. I go with blaming it on the brother as well. Next time tell your son sissy has a speech impediment and she said duck!

  17. Elena (Running in Heels After Child) says:

    My husband thought it was funny to teach our daughter (who was 3 at the time) to say damn, it was kind of funny until we were visiting my mom. She asked Tay if she wanted to take a shower and Tay responded, "No I don't want to take a damn shower". Not so cute.


  18. I never cussed until I had triplets. Now one slips out a lot, but I always change it to something else before its done. Like shi – oot. Or Dam,,,ang it. I think I've covered myself up to this point. Kids pick up mostly on words they should not say. lol

  19. Michelle says:

    Everyone has those "Fuck" moments. It happens.

  20. Andrea (ace1028) says:

    I am just waiting for the day. I'm truly surprised at myself and the ability I have had thus far to keep the foul language in check in front of the child. Of course, now that I have said that I'm bound to slip up soon. 😉

  21. yes, yes and yes. My prolific curse word is usually shit, but the f-bomb works its way into frustrating situations as well. This week it's bitch, I'm assuming as my daughter asked me yesterday, "I need to go to the son of a bitch to get sea shells." *cringe*

  22. Kate Weber says:

    Haha! This post just made my day! I love it so much! Mostly because you caught your brother looking at porn, he freaked out, and you didn't even care. So funny!

    I'm new to your blog! I found you through FTLOB and can't wait to read more! Feel free to check out my blog as well. 🙂

    Simply Kate

  23. 'Fuck' is pretty much my favorite word. I learned to curse from my parents who were prolific potty mouths.

    I was blessed with a Deaf child who didn't hinder my cussing one bit. Then the Hearing one came along and I was screwed. It takes great effort to keep my tongue in check.

  24. Diana Burfield (BettyShmetty) says:

    I loved this post! You know, the F-bomb is my favorite curse word…it really gets the point across when I need to.

    I blame my occasional slip on my mom. She liked to sprinkle it liberally into everything she said. "Diana, bring me my fucking cigarettes." "Can you get me a fucking glass of tea?" "Fuck those people! They don't pay my fucking bills." You get the idea 😉

  25. Erin O'Riordan says:

    Coexist Cafe reminded me of when my niece was about 18 months old. Her 3-year-old sister came over and hit her, and the 18-month-old said, quite clearly, "Bitch."

    When I was 11 or so, my brother and I made up the rule that we were cursing as long as the curse words were part of a quote. I followed this rule for a while, until curse words slipped into my vocabulary. I remember cursing in front of my dad for the first time; I was chasing the cat, and I slipped and said, "Where'd that fucking cat go?" My dad just laughed.

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