Some moms in my circle have posted snippets about Body Autonomy recently. A mother will post a picture of a child behaving rudely when asked to pose for a special event and then applaud her own child for making his own decisions with his body. Cue obligatory "you're such a great mom!" comments from others in her tribe.
These are all very young first time moms who are woke in all kinds of ways. I'm sure I was that mom, too, about a decade and a half ago. But nowadays I'm parenting more like my grandparents than this generation of TL;DR millenialls who think a really long FB post from an emphatically non-expert influencer is enough research for them.
(And, as a friend pointed out, the message of I-do-what-I-want is what is causing a society that contributes to global warming, a rape culture, insufficient tax base to create a social safety net for the most needy, etc. etc. etc. It's about the least Christian message I can imagine.)
The reality is that nobody has body autonomy. I have small children touching me every waking, and sometimes sleeping, moment of the day. An adult declaring that their comfort/preference outweighs the child's needs is pretty much the very definition of abusive neglect.
They climb on me the second I sit down (Kate perched on my calf today while I was half-crouched trying to plant an awkwardly shaped garden bed today, so great is her need for contact). They elbow and knee me while squirming around trying to get comfortable. They pile on top of each other if there isn't really room for two...or three. They bring their books and toys and presume I want to read or play without ever once asking.
And it's okay. It's not great--I don't love it. But it's what they need. I don't get body autonomy right now. My body's primary purpose is to provide physical comfort to them. I'm the mom. It's my role.
(I joked with Theo the other day that the two most exciting days this past month were when we got a babysitter so I could go to the DMV to renew my license and go for my annual gyn visit. I was practically giddy both days, trotting out to my car, sans kids! It's a sad, sad state when the DMV is your most anticipated outing of the week.)
And kids this age don't really have body autonomy, either. They need their butts and noses wiped and shoes and socks put on straight. They need someone to make healthy food and sleep choices for them. The list goes on....
But, all the same, I've been thinking a lot about how to teach appropriate touch to girls with a history of abuse and neglect. The single most horrifying moment for me came in the first week we had the girls when I realized each girl was turning her head and gazing off into the distance each time I touched their undressed bodies (for a bath, diaper change, clothing change, etc.). Both of them came with significant rashes all over their buttocks--determined to be eczema from lack of hygiene--and once when I was applying a diaper creme I looked at Kate's face and it was like watching her soul leave her body. I'd heard the word, "disassociate" before but witnessing it in person was horrific. It was all I could do not to break down and cry right then and there.
I will never know for sure what they experienced but I do know they each coped by separating their minds from their physical bodies. So now I have to help them put the two back together.
I am thrilled that they've begun saying "ouch!" if I accidentally pull their hair while putting it up. I am (trying to be) patient when they bring me the bazillionth boo-boo to kiss. I am demonstrating comfort with my body by letting them see it as situations occur naturally (no nudity, but they've seen me use the toilet when we're all out together and have to use the family restroom). Kate is fascinated and wants to talk about it all. "Mommy potty?" As if it never occurred to her that adults go potty, too.
At the same time that they're being given full access to me we are intentionally limiting access by the boys. From the beginning we would not let the older boys, and then even Theo, change diapers, give baths, assist in the bathroom, etc. It's just safer for everyone involved if we have rules like this. And, it models for them a built-in practice of modesty we want them to absorb, even when they're too young for preached messages.
Because just today Kate and Jane were changing when Kate suddenly reached over and touched Jane's nipple and said, "Best!" So we simultaneously had the talk about yes, girl do grow breasts when they're adults but, by the way, we don't touch people's bodies without permission! A few minutes later she pulled down my top to look at my breasts and said, "Mama best?" Obviously only the first part of the message sunk in.
But these moments are making me think. I have so much to teach them...carefully and patiently. While they climb all over me with an armload of books and toys and stuffed rabbits and favorite blankies and then elbow me in the gut five times while spinning around like a dog trying to lie down. Autonomy? Yeah, right.
These are all very young first time moms who are woke in all kinds of ways. I'm sure I was that mom, too, about a decade and a half ago. But nowadays I'm parenting more like my grandparents than this generation of TL;DR millenialls who think a really long FB post from an emphatically non-expert influencer is enough research for them.
(And, as a friend pointed out, the message of I-do-what-I-want is what is causing a society that contributes to global warming, a rape culture, insufficient tax base to create a social safety net for the most needy, etc. etc. etc. It's about the least Christian message I can imagine.)
The reality is that nobody has body autonomy. I have small children touching me every waking, and sometimes sleeping, moment of the day. An adult declaring that their comfort/preference outweighs the child's needs is pretty much the very definition of abusive neglect.
They climb on me the second I sit down (Kate perched on my calf today while I was half-crouched trying to plant an awkwardly shaped garden bed today, so great is her need for contact). They elbow and knee me while squirming around trying to get comfortable. They pile on top of each other if there isn't really room for two...or three. They bring their books and toys and presume I want to read or play without ever once asking.
And it's okay. It's not great--I don't love it. But it's what they need. I don't get body autonomy right now. My body's primary purpose is to provide physical comfort to them. I'm the mom. It's my role.
(I joked with Theo the other day that the two most exciting days this past month were when we got a babysitter so I could go to the DMV to renew my license and go for my annual gyn visit. I was practically giddy both days, trotting out to my car, sans kids! It's a sad, sad state when the DMV is your most anticipated outing of the week.)
And kids this age don't really have body autonomy, either. They need their butts and noses wiped and shoes and socks put on straight. They need someone to make healthy food and sleep choices for them. The list goes on....
But, all the same, I've been thinking a lot about how to teach appropriate touch to girls with a history of abuse and neglect. The single most horrifying moment for me came in the first week we had the girls when I realized each girl was turning her head and gazing off into the distance each time I touched their undressed bodies (for a bath, diaper change, clothing change, etc.). Both of them came with significant rashes all over their buttocks--determined to be eczema from lack of hygiene--and once when I was applying a diaper creme I looked at Kate's face and it was like watching her soul leave her body. I'd heard the word, "disassociate" before but witnessing it in person was horrific. It was all I could do not to break down and cry right then and there.
I will never know for sure what they experienced but I do know they each coped by separating their minds from their physical bodies. So now I have to help them put the two back together.
I am thrilled that they've begun saying "ouch!" if I accidentally pull their hair while putting it up. I am (trying to be) patient when they bring me the bazillionth boo-boo to kiss. I am demonstrating comfort with my body by letting them see it as situations occur naturally (no nudity, but they've seen me use the toilet when we're all out together and have to use the family restroom). Kate is fascinated and wants to talk about it all. "Mommy potty?" As if it never occurred to her that adults go potty, too.
At the same time that they're being given full access to me we are intentionally limiting access by the boys. From the beginning we would not let the older boys, and then even Theo, change diapers, give baths, assist in the bathroom, etc. It's just safer for everyone involved if we have rules like this. And, it models for them a built-in practice of modesty we want them to absorb, even when they're too young for preached messages.
Because just today Kate and Jane were changing when Kate suddenly reached over and touched Jane's nipple and said, "Best!" So we simultaneously had the talk about yes, girl do grow breasts when they're adults but, by the way, we don't touch people's bodies without permission! A few minutes later she pulled down my top to look at my breasts and said, "Mama best?" Obviously only the first part of the message sunk in.
But these moments are making me think. I have so much to teach them...carefully and patiently. While they climb all over me with an armload of books and toys and stuffed rabbits and favorite blankies and then elbow me in the gut five times while spinning around like a dog trying to lie down. Autonomy? Yeah, right.
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