Chapter 2-1
Carefree Lifestyle
Part 2
When Mom said she wanted to see all of me, she meant it. Aaron and I weren't embarrassed or ashamed like our sisters or my father was. To us, it wasn't a big deal. We both have seen our mother naked numerous times when our father wasn't around. She was just as beautiful on the outside as she was on the inside where it counted the most. Even after we were well grown and on our own, even my mother and we were comfortable about it when she visited us or we spent the night at home, modesty was never an issue.
It wasn't long after the roundtable meeting when Dad approached the subject which most parents refuse to talk about when it comes to a sexual nature and after Shane and I had accidentally walked in on Mom coming out of the shower, not hearing us knock on the door. Seeing her standing in the mirror drying her hair, Mom didn't cover up, just gave us a silly smile. In some ways, she was relieved by it and was wondering how she was going to approach the subject when it came to the difference between girls and boys reaching adulthood.
At first, it bothered me when I first noticed her standing before me in the mirror. I knew it was going to happen after Dad and Mom talked to me after the roundtable meeting. Spying was one thing. In some ways, it felt like I had paid my nickel to see a peep show, knowing my parents would be angry about it and get a whipping. I remember stories of my grandfather that when he was a boy; he had got a whipping for it after his first boyhood experience.
Like Dad and Mom said, the big shock factor would wear off quickly. After I had realized they had seen me and my brothers naked more times than I could count. Why should it bother me? I was old enough to know where babies come from and how they were made. And it wasn't like I had never seen my sisters growing up, even more so sharing a tub together. I had taken health classes and seen every diagram known to man. Like every man, boy, woman, or girl, we are basically built the same. My foster Mom gave me a smile after I had noticed asking me if I was alright with it. I nodded and asked the reason I came in. From that moment on, it became no longer a big deal.
So, when Dad brought up the subject for family home evening, I was more prepared to listen. Then worry about what it was going to be like the next time we all went skinny dipping as a family. Instead of worrying about if I would get aroused and embarrass myself. According to Mom and Dad, if that happened that to me, I had nothing to be ashamed about. Besides, Mom, Dad, and my sisters had seen that happen, and that too was not a big deal. Would continue bathing me as if it had never happened, letting nature take its course.
I remember the first time it happened and the fact it happened in church makes it even more special. My foster Mom at the time watched me fidget, reaching over to take matters in hand, and looked to where I was touching. I said, "Mamma, something's wrong with me. It won't go down." Mom took me to the bathroom, telling me there was nothing wrong with me or anything to be ashamed of. Had me peed in the toilet and told me it would go down if I would stop touching it. I was six or seven.
Later on, Grandma had to explain to me what I was experiencing and how and why it was happening more often. After having asked my foster parents to explain it, but for some reason they felt ashamed of talking about sex to a nine-year-old boy. Grandma filled in the details for me and explained the facts of life or the birds and the bees.
She never made me feel ashamed or embarrassed about it when it happened when she bathed me. To her, it was no big deal. I wish I could have said the same to my parents at the time. Being constantly degraded and beaten every time it happened, I was forced to cover up and hide behind an Eskimo suit wherever I went. Afraid that the world saw any part of my flesh, including my face, fingers, and toes. They would be repulsed by it and the beatings would continue. I feared and hated seeing any part of me because of them.
Like my foster parents, our mother no longer embarrassed or degraded me and Aaron when we got aroused after a major tickle fight or the tub. She just let nature take its course and continued to tickle both of us. She simply smiled, telling us we were perfection and was proud to be our mother. When we both had enough, she asked if we would like to go to the pool and stop at McDonald's on the way, Aaron jumping up and down with joy. He loved going to the pool and McDonald's. Mostly I think was because of play-land or the toy inside the Happy Meal. Mom told us to put on our suits, watching our beautiful naked bodies race to our rooms.
Mom had lost a lot of weight since the last time I had seen her, telling me she had a tummy tuck where they go in and remove most of her belly fat and put her on a strict diet. She would never be as skinny as my foster Mom, but she looked good and just as beautiful in her new bathing suit.
I had learned that ever since our "roundtable," she and Aaron spent hot days going up Santaquin Canyon and had found a nice, secluded spot suggested by her Bishop, Bishop Earl where the scouts and father and sons go for camping trips and a little private skinny dipping. He even tried to get my father to go along hoping to include him and Aaron, but the moment they suggested swimming he would decline the invitation. To him, it didn't matter if they wore a bathing suit or not. It was immoral, and he wanted no part of it and would forbid Aaron from participating.
If it wasn't for Mr. Kenly, Bishop Earl, and other fathers in their ward, Aaron would never see the light of day or, in his case the warm, scorching sun on his exposed body. My father had lost that battle when it came to Aaron spending time with his mother, going to the pool or sunbathing of any kind. He could forbid it as much as he wanted, but in the end, my mother would find ways to disobey him, sometimes forcing his daughters to go with them when he was not home, and it didn't help matters that his mother our grandma supported her in this decision.
In some ways, I felt sorry for my father, and in other ways, I could understand his fears, but I wasn't my father and the fact he or my mother didn't raise me. Defined me as not part of their way of thinking. I wasn't afraid nor was embarrassed about growing up, or the possibility of having a likeness of genetics. I was more concerned about having the same attitude when it came to expressing my anger and hurting others just because of the way my mother and he treated me. I didn't want to pass that on to my children; I wanted to pass on the love and values that I had learned from the most important people in my life and that would be my foster parents and my grandmother, and for that alone, he and my sisters hated me for it.
Mom was true to her word when she said we would do lots and lots of skinny dipping. It also explained a lot regarding their well-defined tan. It also explained why my mother insisted that I didn't pack any clothing when I came to visit during my long Easter break. I would spend my time more out of clothes than in them, and I was fine with that. I didn't have to worry about my father, and I didn't have to worry about my sisters. I have faced my fears when it comes to basements, so when I went down to Aaron's room, I took my time and faced my phantoms knowing they couldn't hurt me unless I let them, but it never would stop them from trying. Mom gave me a great big hug and several kisses when she found me downstairs doing laundry, without being asked, and playing with Aaron on the floor of his room.
Mom never asked me to do chores. I did them out of love. To her and I this meant I trusted her, so when she said: "It's good to have you home."
I simply replied, "I am glad to be here, with you too, Mom." What I didn't say I was glad to be home, for this would never be home to me.
Every day we went skinny dipping after a nice breakfast prepared by all of us and packed us a lunch so we could all spend the day frolicking in the sun. It was also the first time I had ever seen my mother without a bathing suit, but just like at the Rothwells the shock factor wore off even more so when Aaron yelled. "The last one in, had to do the dishes!" running naked right past us. I raced Mom to the small lake and had the time of our lives. My foster parents were right. It was no big deal when it was just love and family, and all it did was love her even more.
She may not be skinny like my foster mother or my foster sisters. To us, she would always be beautiful, and she was our mother and Aaron and I loved her and respected her as such, and from that moment on I trusted her with my life. Each night I got on my knees I thanked God for giving back my mother and changing her heart and filling it with love instead of hate and contempt. I even prayed for my father, but to this day he hasn't shown me any love, and I doubt he ever will.