I swear an inordinate amount; not as much as some people, but a lot. Not everybody is excited by this. So in the spirit of brotherly love I decided I'd substitute "fudge" for the F-bomb. It works most of the time. And saying things like "GET OUT OF THE WAY YOU MOTHERFUDGER" is actually more satisfying than you think.
I got this idea from my sister who likes to say "what the fudge" but will also use fudge as a substitute for shit (which I barely consider a swear word, seriously), as in "this is the kind of fudge I've been dealing with," which I can imagine her saying to me as she points to her child having a major breakdown in the aisle of the grocery store.
Fudge has started to morph a bit in my brain to now be able to also describe an emotion that is essentially cranky, exhausted, weepy, lonely, and kinda elated. I call it feeling a little fudgy.
I am recovering from a birth that was long and hot and amazingly slow. We were at turns hopeful and excited, frustrated and exhausted, hot and sweaty, cold and sore, scared and amazed. Everybody is fine and baby is adorable, but the road we took to get there was as wild, unpredictable, and long as anything you could imagine. Spending the last three days with them in such circumstances has left me feeling a little emotionally attached. Clearly I'm still finding my way out of the labyrinth. While my physical body recovers with sleep, real food, fresh air and showers, we'll wait for my emotional body--which feels tattered and worn--to catch up.
Just feeling a little fudgy.