Mother Mourns Loss of Nude Children in Bizarre New York Times ColumnS

Are you a naked person, or a clothed person? I am a clothed person. Aviva Rubin of Times parenting blog Motherlode is a naked person. Her kids? They're still figuring it all out. Take her, uh, 12-year-old:

But nothing that clear has happened. Once he started shutting the door to the bathroom, I thought I could take my cues from him — but he's inconsistent. One day, hearing something on the television while he was waiting for the bath, he walked in, hands covering his parts like a fig leaf, unconcerned. Other days it's, "Mom, do you mind? Give me some privacy!" while he's changing his shirt.

Kids, you know? One day they're naked, the next they're hiding their penises from you in the living room:

I'm not sure where my own inclination to roam around the house naked came from. It's not like I haven't struggled all my adult life with my body image. But there's something affirming about how much my children have always loved and needed my body, from breast-feeding, to shared baths. [...] The idea of no longer being intimately familiar with my children's bodies makes me sad, and yet I have no intention of walking the halls of my house with two full-grown naked men. [...] It's all as it should be, but I'm allowed to mourn the loss, a little now, and a little in advance. Maybe I should let them watch TV naked on the couch.

Now, look, I'm not here to judge. There are naked people, and there are clothed people. To naked people, a whole semi-adult family watching TV naked on the couch, sweaty poop and sex parts swinging in the breeze? No big deal. Family tradition. Just a regular Tuesday night.

And that's cool. It's, for some inexplicable reason, legal. Different strokes, as they say. But speaking for clothed people? As a clothed person the whole concept makes me want to burn my couch, put on three sweaters and never talk to my family again. And certainly never read Motherlode, ever again, ever. Ever.

[NYT; image via Shutterstock]