When it comes to being naked in front of our kids, my partner and I are on completely opposite sides of the spectrum. I embrace it, while my husband, Tom, is firmly against it. Somehow, we’re both trying to send the right signals to our children, hoping we don’t end up causing any long-term damage.
I grew up in a liberal household where nudity was a part of daily life. My dad, bless his heart, had a body that was hard to forget—think big, hairy, and a bit saggy. Seeing him in his natural state was a common occurrence, whether he was stepping out of the shower or just getting ready for the day. As a young girl, I remember being perplexed by the anatomy lesson that was my father, and let’s just say, I was grateful for my own anatomy! My mom would often shrug it off, saying things like, “It’s just a body,” or “Put on some clothes, the kids are getting older.”
With two brothers around, I was well-acquainted with the male form, and other than being a tad curious about how they could stand to pee, I didn’t think much of it. Then there was my mother, who I remember showering with when I was little. I was in awe of her curves, always wondering when I would look like that. As I grew older, her casual nudity shifted from beautiful to embarrassing, especially during my teenage years when she’d strut around in her sheer negligee. One time, I told her, “None of us want to see that!”—a sentiment my brothers apparently didn’t share, as they have no recollection of the event.
Now, as a mom of two little girls, Mia and Ava, ages 5 and 3, I often find myself navigating this same territory. I walk around our home without clothes, but I’m not trying to start a nudist colony here. I don’t prance about; I simply don’t rush to cover up when they wander into my room.
Just the other day, while showering with Ava, our chat went something like this:
Ava: “Will I have boo-bies?” (pointing at mine and giggling)
Me: “They’re called breasts, and yes, you will.”
Ava: “Eww, I don’t want them. What’s that round thing sticking out called again?”
Me: “Those are called nipples.”
Ava: “Oh, yeah. That’s where milk comes from for babies.”
Me: “Exactly, it’s pretty amazing, right?”
Ava: “Your belly is big.”
Me: “Well, when you look up at things, they can seem bigger!”
When she called my belly big, I felt my defenses rise. Should I joke it off or acknowledge her observation? If I dismiss it, I’m belittling her feelings. But if I agree and say I need to exercise more, am I implying that a big belly is bad? Ah, the complexities of parenting!
In stark contrast, Tom insists on privacy. He locks the bathroom door while showering, terrified of “scar[ing] the girls for life” by exposing them to his nudity. I admit, I don’t want them to see his bits every day either, but I also don’t want them to see it as something shameful. When I explain, “Daddy needs privacy,” they burst into giggles, exclaiming, “He’s nakey!”
I often wonder if my upbringing, where nudity was normalized, will result in my girls being more curious about bodies. Will it backfire? If only there were a foolproof guide on the appropriate levels of nudity to ensure our kids grow up comfortable in their skin! But parenting is all about trial and error, isn’t it? Fingers crossed that I’m getting this right.
For more insights on this topic, you can check out this resource about pregnancy and home insemination. Additionally, if you’re interested in learning about tools for self insemination, this site offers great products. If you’re curious about our privacy policies while navigating these discussions, feel free to read more here.
In summary, while my partner and I may approach nudity with our children from very different angles, both viewpoints bring their own lessons. The journey of parenting is filled with unique challenges, and figuring out how to handle nudity is just one of many!