Our language is one of the most abused parts of our every day lives. How it hasn’t asked for a restraining order against us is beyond me.

With noun-verb disagreements, misplaced modifiers and word usage such as “thru,” “donut” and “over” instead of “more than,” our butchering of the language is akin to using a blender without a lid. Sure, it gets the job done, but it leaves a mess in the process.

Language evolved because we did. Our larynx and mouth structure are unlike anything else in nature, allowing us to produce precise sounds. The first were probably onomatopoeias (Greek for “to make names”), which are words that sound like what they represent, like “boom,” “crackle,” “slap” and “sizzle.” (Although caveman onomatopoeias may have been words like “growl,” “woof” and “Gronk, my hair’s on fire.”)

Exactly how our language has developed is still argued. An example of this is the word for mother.

In English it’s “Mama.” In Chinese, oh, surprise, it’s “Mama.” In Swahili, what do you know? It’s “Mama.”

Germans say “Mutter,” Russians “Mat’,” Hindis “Mataji,” Swedes “Moder,” Icelanders “Móðir,” French “Mère,” Spanish “Madre.” I could go on. The point is, words for “mother” universally begin with “M.”

Crazy, right?

According to party poopers like Associate Professor Cheryl Messick at the University of Pittsburgh, “Ma,” is the first word a baby says because it’s the easiest sound for our larynx to produce. Except for the fact that the first word usually spoken is “Dad,” according to a Stanford University study.

Take that, party pooper.

However language evolved, the one ugly truth purveyors of grammar don’t like to admit is that language is made up. Every word, every rule, all invented by someone and we’re reinventing it all the time.

William Shakespeare alone is credited with inventing roughly 1,700 words, my favorites being “besmirch,” “obscene” and “puke.” (In the play “As You Like It,” he wrote a baby as, “Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.” Although you gave me headaches in high school English, William, we’re friends now.)

How many of you have conjured up words? Probably all of you.

I made up two words when I was small (at least two I remember). Dutchesspepper and Curlybird.

When I was five my family had a dog named Duchess. One day I held a plant up to her nose and she sneezed. In the cartoons, if Tom sprinkled Jerry with pepper, Jerry sneezed. So, in my little blond head, that weed was Duchess’ pepper, or, Duchesspepper. I still have no idea what the weed is really called.

Same with Curlybird. There’s a bird that’s call sounds like Curly from The Three Stooges. It might be a Sora, but I’m not sure, and frankly don’t care. It’s a Curlybird.

After being plagiarized in 2011, I came up with a word later printed in various newspapers and used on a TV broadcast about the incident. It was “flangry,” the feeling of being flattered and angry at the same time.

Although there’s the right way to spell things (through, doughnut) and the wrong way (thru, donut), this doesn’t preclude you from adding your own words to the lexicon.

And if you hear someone using your word, don’t be flangry about it. You’ve simply become part of the language.