I was checking the news on my favorite online source, and noticed a story about a Twit-pic that was mistakenly posted. A celebrity husband took a picture of his son, I suppose in the parent’s bedroom. Unbeknownst to him, in the background you could see a glimpse of his wife lying on the bed with her breasts uncovered. The comments from people were so illogical.
Who are you (the irate protestors) and why are you not using your brain? Let me relay some pertinent information to you, my dear protesters: Kids don’t care. And when I say kids, in this blog, I am referring to the little precious dear ones that are under the age of 5, sometimes 6!
The comments were basically saying that a mother should not allow her children to be around her when she is disrobed. And truth be told, that is probably a true statement. But there are some ignored boundaries that need to be understood.
I don’t know if the comments were from people who didn’t have children, or people that just raised a perfect little nobody. But, as stated above, kids don’t care. Privacy is a foreign word to young ones.
But, first, before I let you in on the unspoken horrors behind the scenes, here’s the background of the celebrity with the uncovered breasts. At the time, she was a mother of three, her oldest being four years old. (She has since given birth to another child.) Her youngest was an infant at the time of the tweet, so most likely, she’s breastfeeding. Whipping out a breast for the purposes of sustenance is probably a common occurrence in this house. So, with that information, I shall begin.
Upon entering the delivery room to have my first child, I realized that I will never have privacy again. At first with the endless adults, whether family or hospital staff, everybody was “up in my business.” Now that I am a mother of two young children, I really don’t have privacy. That is until around ten at night, when they are fast asleep, assuming they don’t get up again and again to let me know things they feel (but I can assure are not) important.
My son comes into my bathroom one day, as I am finishing up a shower. He tells me, “Mommy, I don’t like you naked.” Well, maybe if you weren’t busting in the door to tell me Tom and Jerry just went off, you wouldn’t see my naked body.
My daughter and son come into the bathroom, as I am sitting on the toilet bowl, asking me what I am doing. They have been potty trained for some time, so they very well know what I am doing. I just look at them, and politely ask them to leave. They just stand there giggling. I ask them about two more times, until I am forced to shout: Please leave so I handle my business. I mean, I have to go there. They come in any time they want, they go in my stuff, and they are everywhere. They ask personal questions, too.
On the other hand, my dear husband gets exclusive bathroom rights. He can go in the bathroom and they see him walk in fully clothed, then they see him coming out, fully clothed. They probably think his skin is an ever changing wardrobe. But when it’s my turn, I can’t lock the door. Usually my husband is at work, and I have to keep the door unlocked, in case they need to come in and tell me something i-m-p-o-r-t-a-n-t. You know, the house is on fire, the Mothership has landed, whatever may be necessary information at the time. Unfortunately, they think when a show I DVRed goes off, it’s a big cause for concern, and I must be interrupted at all costs, even if they must see my horrible naked body.
So, to all those absurd comments about a mother allowing her child to be in her presence while she wasn’t fully covered, you need to calm down and recognize that kids these days just don’t care. And they will remain all up in your business.
I mean, it wasn’t like her son was rubbing Lanolin on her bosom. That would most likely be a reason for concern.