“OH S*&T!  What’s happening to me?”  I seem to be gushing this flamboyant expression at every pain, fright, or broken drinking glass.  I suppose not everything is an “OS” moment but it certainly feels like it to me at the time.  I think I’m becoming skittish or just self-absorbed.  It runs in the family.  My dad was easily startled.  Reading, gardening, bill paying or just gazing, my dad spouted an expletive if disturbed.

I’m probably not the first to hypothesize mannerisms and habits are adopted.  Maybe it’s a gene thing but I don’t recall studying a ho-ho-ho laugh being dominant over a cackling laugh or vice versa.  I am more familiar with physical characteristics such as baby blues coming from my dad in my case, a less likely winning color.  Or how I got my mom’s Irish speckled and freckled complexion.  A furrowed brow or a smile could come from an aunt or an uncle.  But I wonder if it’s possible to inherit a sort of behavioral gene?  Just like my dad, I’m full of polite lingo until something disrupts my world and a colorful word escapes.

Growing up, my dad often retreated behind his newspaper wall of stocks and bonds, having a full conversation with himself.  My family just sort of left him to talk over his investments and let the chatter fade into the white noise of the house.  If you needed to ask him something, there was no way to get his attention without him letting out a startling yelp or “GOD DAMN!”  You knew it was coming but it was surprising every time no matter how cautious the approach.  Glaucoma tests are the same way, knowing a gentle puff of air is going to shoot at your eye is nerve wracking.

BANG!

My dad could check into his world anywhere.  Once in church there was some sort of celebration with balloons.  While we waited for the service to begin, one of those balloons expanded a little too much in the heat and BANG! it popped.  “GOD DAMN!”  Luckily the people around us had a good chuckle over it and I’m pretty sure God did too.  I seriously doubt it hindered his chances into heaven even if he broke a big commandment in God’s own house, a double-whammy sin.

I never really thought much about my dad’s habits and neither did I anticipate I, or anyone in my family could adopt them.  Lately, I think I have fallen victim as my husband has noticed a pattern.

fancy doorstop

The other day, I was using a large dried up ficus tree, still in its planter bucket as a doorstop for a French door.  I wanted to cool off the family room but the wind was so strong it slammed the door shut.  I’m focused.  I do not want to step wrong and hurt my surgery knee so I am being very careful.  I see a flick of movement with my peripheral vision and sense a body is coming from the patio towards me.  “S*&T!”  It’s my husband and he starts laughing.  “You are just like your dad!  You startle easily.”

I started to think about this a little more.  About a week after my knee surgery I’m riding the stationary bike on our front porch.  It’s part of my therapy.  I have my iphone next to me playing my new favorite song by fun., “Carry On.”  I’m riding to nowhere completely absorbed in the song.  It’s one you can’t help but sing along and it’s best to belt it for better voice control, in my case.  It’s just me, my bike and fun.  I sing the chorus, “If you’re lost and alone, or sinking like a stone, Carry Oooonnnn.”  So I am carrying on and nobody is walking by our house so I don’t care about carrying on in full song.

“Carry On….”

Next thing I know, a soft “Mom” is called into my left ear. “S*&T!  You scared me!”  I think I scared my older son and then made him laugh.  My husband and my other son come flying out of the house to the front porch, thinking I fell off the bike and hurt my knee.  My older son guiltily says, “Geez mom.  I was really loud coming out of the house.  I thought you heard me.  I just wanted to let you know I could hear you singing from my bedroom.”  And I was worried about the neighbors.

My older son retreated into the house to explain everything to his brother.  “OMG.  I was so loud.  I can’t believe she didn’t hear me.”  They are both cracking up.  I didn’t think too much of the situation until the getting spooked by my husband scenario.

I guess my husband brought it up because it happens more and more.  I can walk down the hall from say the kitchen to the bedroom, thinking about my task like getting a pair of socks or something.  I need to concentrate or I’ll forget what I was after.  (My mom was kind of like that.  S*&T!)  Suddenly my husband pops out of the office and we cross paths.  He startles me out of thought, “S*&T!”  Hmm.  The occurrences are adding up.  I never noticed because it was a normal behavior at my dad’s house.

I don’t know.  Maybe I did get more from dad than blue eyes, nice teeth and long legs.  If I start talking to myself behind newspapers, then I think there is a little more than one thing loose than a behavioral gene or habit.  I’ll think it over with myself, in my head, where nobody has to hear a thing.