We don’t hide the facts of life naked or our bodies from our children
From their brother’s stillbirth to intimate facts about sex, no topic is off limits for Marina Fogle and her little ones. Smart parenting... or too much too young?
HOW and why are possibly the two most frequently used words in my two children’ s vocabulary. ‘Why is orange juice orange?’ or ‘ Why do people lie?’ And my personal favourite: ‘How do you get to heaven – by train or by bus?’ Such conversations are, in my opinion, the best thing about being a parent.
But honesty took on a different meaning in 2014 when my son was stillborn. There were a lot of questions from Ludo, then aged four, and his sister Iona.
I’d spent a week in intensive care, and when I feebly staggered back to the house – my skin still bearing the marks of numerous cannulas and my eyes red and puffy from tears – I felt too fragile to do anything but hug them.
But as the days wore on, Ludo complained of feeling sick and of perpetual tummy aches.
We suspected he had caught a bug but I soon realised that it wasn’t illness but rather a knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.
I spoke to a grief counsellor, who asked if I had spoken to him about what had happened. I responded: ‘No, I don’t think I could without breaking down in tears.’
But according to the counsellor, neither I nor anyone should fear crying in front of our children. Shielding them from vulnerability is, in fact, detrimental.
‘If we never cry in front of our children, we are teaching them that it is not OK to cry, however sad or frustrated you are,’ she says.
I proceeded to have a very difficult conversation with Ludo. We both cried, but he felt comfortable to ask the questions he needed.
Almost miraculously, the knot of anxiety that had been plaguing him was untangled. The simple act of communication brought us closer and my honesty brought him comfort in the knowledge that, however hard it might be to bear, I would tell him the truth.
WE HAVE TO STOP FOBBING CHILDREN OFF ABOUT SEX
THIS brings me to the issue that causes most parents to lie to their children: sex. The first time Ludo, now eight, and Iona, now six, asked me how babies get into mummy’s tummy, I am ashamed to say I fobbed them off with stories of storks and ‘special hugs’, thinking that they were too innocent to be exposed to the world of sex.
But since witnessing how raw honesty intensified our relationship and helped my son compute grief, I concluded that approaching the ‘ sex talk’ with similar openness would be equally positive. And indeed it was.
I was driving with both children in the car one wet February day and listening to a Radio 4 programme about a story of a baby who developed inside the liver, when Ludo turned to me and asked: ‘But how does the seed actually get inside the mummy’s tummy?’
Seizing my opportunity, I told them the basic truth.
‘ When a man and woman love each other,’ I began, ‘the man puts his penis into the woman’s vagina. This makes the man’s seed go into the woman which fertilises the egg and makes a baby.’
I braced myself for confusion, disgust or more questions. There was a long silence as the children digested the news. What were they thinking, I wondered?
‘Mummy,’ piped up Iona. ‘Can we have cheese on toast for supper?’ My children accepted my explanation in the same way that they accept why we have to stop at red traffic lights.
And so the more I’ve learnt about the role of a parent, the more I’ve realised that being anything other than honest is a waste of time.
FORGET ‘ THE TALK’... AND START ‘ THE CONVERSATION’
THE first big misconception around explaining sex in all its complexities is that it is just ‘a talk’. In fact, child mental health specialists agree that the subject should comprise hundreds of smaller dialogues over the course of your child’s life.
‘Telling children about sex isn’t a one- off piece of information,’ insists Laura Berman, a sex therapist and author. ‘It’s about building a landscape.’ Before we had chil- dren, I once joked with my husband Ben that he would be the one to explain ‘the birds rds and the bees’ to our son, as punishment for having come home after a spectacular night on the tiles with a tattoo. But when our children were born, we naturally embarked on a continuous, open conversation, starting with body parts.
To begin with, we described them as front bottom, middle and bottom. My friends still rib me mercilessly about calling a vagina a front bottom, but it meant that if Iona was suffering an itch or a pain, she could explain accurately where it hurt. Now that the children are older, I heed the advice of the experts and call these body parts what they really are – a vagina and a penis.
Emma Gleadhill, a teacher and expert in child development, argues that parents should use the correct terminology from the age of two.
‘Why not just give them the anatomically correct vocabulary?’ she asks. ‘Every three-year-old can say vagina and penis, so why not get it right from the start?’
And it is far more than just a name game. Providing children with the right vocabulary enables them to take ‘proud ownership of their bodies’. Gleadhill argues: ‘From the outset, young children explore their bodies through touch and work out that these parts of their bodies afford pleasure.
‘Parents have the delicate task of ensuring that they understand that this pleasure is a private affair.’
HOW PREGNANT FRIENDS ( AND RIHANNA) CAN HELP
PARENTS might be unsure of how to broach the subject of sex. But it’s not a case of waiting for the right time, but rather a sign of children’s curiosity. Gleadhill advises using
‘ teachable moments’ in which the subject of sex arises organically.
For Ben and me, such an opportunity came thanks to my sister Olivia, who recently gave birth to a baby girl.
When the inevitable questions about why auntie Olivia had a baby inside her ensued, we jumped at the chance to answer them candidly. If you think about it, there are hundreds of these moments: a pregnant friend, a new baby, bath time.
The same applies when the kids merrily sing along to a Rihanna song in the car. When she sings, ‘I know you wanna touch’ and Ludo asks me what she means, I tell him.
Parents may feel awkward, but that need not be the case – children don’t think about sex the way we do.
Adults have generally been tarnished by the world of sordid sex, the objectification of women and the sleazy world of the sex industry. If we give them information using vocabulary they understand, sex becomes a straightforward activity that’s no different from blowing our noses.
I F YOU DON’T TELL THEM, SOMEONE ELSE WILL
LIKE any mother, I worry about what my children might be exposed to outside of the predictability of our home, despite their lack of interest in social media and the Kardashians. Children are resourceful, and one thing is for certain: if they’re not getting the information from their parents, they’ll find it elsewhere. Deborah Roffman, author of Talk To Me First: Everything You Need To Know To Become Your Kids’ Go-To Person About Sex, insists: ‘If we’re not deliberately reaching out to kids early, almost everything they learn after that is going to be remedial.’ So, at least when it comes to sex, I can be sure that I have provided the basis of their understanding. Last week, the children spotted a condom in Ben’s survival kit. ‘They are brilliant for collecting water,’ said Ben, but I seized the opportunity to reveal their main use. ‘When men and women have sex and the seed goes into the mother, sometimes they don’t want to have a baby, so they use a cover as it means the sperm can’t get in,’ I said. Now they know what a condom is. According to Emma Gleadhill, the ideal time for such conversations to evolve is between about five and eight years old, as once children reach the age of nine they become ‘ grossed out’ by the idea of discussing sex with their parents. Otherwise, it becomes the task of sex education, taught at age 11. The idea that children have no notion of sex before then is preposterous, but even so, it isn’t a conversation you can have fruitfully in a school environment.
WHY BEING NAKED AT HOME I S NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF
I’VE never been shy about my body, and Ben and I enjoy piling in to the bath with our children. I’ve never been prudish about them seeing me naked, and they certainly aren’t fazed by it. However, as Ludo matures emotionally and physically, I have wondered whether I ought to reconsider our blasé attitude to nudity.
‘Quite the opposite,’ Gleadhill insists. ‘There is an increasing amount of research to suggest that children who grow up in households where there is a matter-of-fact approach to nudity have a healthier body image and make better decisions when it comes to sex.’
She points to the Netherlands, which has among the lowest teenage pregnancy rates in the world and where cultural attitudes to nudity are more open. As well as potentially providing more of those ‘teachable moments’, Gleadhill cites a bigger benefit.
‘If a child does not see nakedness at home, then their perception of the human body will be based on unrealistic Photoshopped or highly sexualised images that are found online and in the media.’
I heave a sigh of relief that my imperfect body – caesarean-scarred and stretch-marked, and with breasts that bear the hallmarks of two wellfed babies – is still serving to give my children a healthy view of what a normal body looks like in a world of Instagram filters.
If my years of parenting have taught me anything, it’s that honesty, although not always easy, is your friend.
Talking about sex is crucial, and having honest conversations with your children will make them, certainly in the long term, respect you and admire your bravery.