Whatever Happened To Privacy?

"I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what is the use of him is more than I can see..."
- Robert Louis Stevenson


Obviously that was a dude who had children.
The departure of all things private is yet another one of the multitude of things that never crossed my mind when I decided to have kids. As a PG, privacy is easy. Switch off the phone, swish the curtains, close the door and it's time to get butt naked and dance the hoochiecooch. You can't do that when you have toddlers. They want to know what you're doing, why you're doing it and how come your arse looks like a spotty, crinkly jelly.

There is no such thing as closing the bedroom door and dreaming the whole night through in blissful aloneness. There is however, leaving the door ajar and dozing with one eye open, lurching into the zombie waltz at three hour intervals to the tune of, 'I'm thirsty", "I'm wet", and the optimistically plaintive, "Blanky!!!! Where are you?"

The Lack of Privacy Act 2010 reaches new heights of annoyance when there is a small child beating its fists against the bathroom door screaming, "Mummy, Mummy, Mummy!!!" Don't bother rushing your shower, makeup or dump. When you hastily (half) finish and throw open the door in a panic expecting to see your child writhing in a pillar of flame or similar, it will merely smile at you happily and say, "Dere you are!"

Privacy is a thing of the past and starts very early on - when your child is a mere bean-like foetus. Suddenly your body is not your own. You have to share it. Not just with your growing sprog, but also with that swirling madness of new hormones, raging cravings for ridiculous things and baby brain fog. 

And then there's the people! People who like to shove an ultrasound wand up your faff (not as fun as it sounds) putting the results on TV and then printing it out so all your friends and family can see what your insides look like. Horrible, gropey strangers at the supermarket who think it's Okay to fondle your fat belly without asking. The oh-so-jolly party atmosphere of the labour ward with its horde of gate-crashers (but by then of course you don't care if News of the World is taking pictures and posting them online as long as they get it out now!)

Privacy and children are two words that do not go together. So my advice is to dance the hoochiecooch as often as you can while you can - and do it like no one's watching.