Showing posts with label intimacy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label intimacy. Show all posts

A Moment of Panic

Monday, January 10, 2011

During the Christmas break I was folding laundry on my bed and heard a faint buzzing. I thought I was imagining it but then I followed the sound to the bathroom. It was definitely coming from there but I couldn't pinpoint it. 

At first I couldn't think what would be making a sound like that. It wasn't the toothbrush or water pick. Phil hadn't left his razor on accidentally; I could see it on the counter. What could it be? Then it hit me. 

Oh shit. 

Did Tyler find "it"?

What was he doing poking around in here?!

Why didn't he ask me what "it" was? 

Thank God he didn't ask me what "it" was!

Do I say something?

I don't want to say something!
I was about to reach down into the cabinet to turn "it" off, but as I bent over the sound got louder as my head passed by one of Phil's drawers. Turns out, it was just his nose hair trimmer. Crisis averted.

But since then I've been thinking. Should I move "it"? I don't want to bury "it" too far because then "it" isn't, uh, convenient anymore. 

So now I'm asking you. Where do you keep "it"? Have your kids ever found "it"? How did you respond?

One Word. Three Letters. Starts with 'S'

Thursday, June 19, 2008

The night my new design was installed there were technical difficulties that had me in a panic. So much so that I "outed" my blog to Drama Dad asking for his help. He was no use but thankfully the problem turned out to be a pretty simple issue with Firefox versus Internet Explorer.

Anyway, now that hubby knows I'm online he's started sending me things to blog about. He sent me an email with a link from a site for brides to be,, and naturally it's about sex. The article is about a couple who had sex for 101 days straight and then wrote a book,
Just Do It (photo from Amazon).

Hubby's point, of course, being we should start our own attempt to break their streak and write
Doin' It More Than They Are.

At first I laughed. Hee hee, he's so funny. But then I got a little hurt. I like sex. We have sex. Not every day. But I'm sure we're no different than most couples (Right? Please tell me I'm right!). If I had to come up with an actual number, I don't think I could.

It fluctuates. And the determining factors are as varied as my shoe collection. I'm tired. He's tired. He's on the computer. I'm on the computer. It's 10:30 and Drama Kid is
still awake. No condoms. (Yep, the responsibility is on him, literally. I'm done with hormones. If they perfect the Male Pill he's welcome to it). Etc. Etc.

I'll admit the intimacy, or more aptly the frequency, isn't there the way it was before Drama Kid. And I do feel badly. But I won't shoulder all the responsibility. In fact, I'm taking credit for bringing some of the spark back.

When I had my job, it beat me up, spit me out and left me for dead. I was not me anymore. I was angry, stressed, exhausted, snappish and just no fun to be around (I have since apologized to Drama Dad for being such a bi*ch).

I was out of the house shortly after 8:00am after going through Morning Hell with Drama Kid and getting him fed, lunch made and dropped off at school, ate lunch at my desk most days and was still there when the boss left at 6:00. Sex was usually the thing
after the last thing on my mind. And we suffered as a couple. The "connect" was definitely missing.

But now that I'm at home, things have definitely perked up. I won't go into detail (you're welcome) but there have been times we've left Drama Kid at after school care a little longer than usual.

I buy the lacy nighties.

I buy the candles.

I bought the Vanilla Massage Oil.

It was my idea to go to one of THOSE stores and buy one of THOSE things.

I suggested we get a pool table.

I'm not saying I need rose petals and candlelight every night, but grabbing my tush or squeezing the girls is not foreplay. It was funny the first time. The 500th? Move along, nothing to see here.

My husband tells me I'm beautiful. He opens doors for me. He says "I love you." We go out when we have a free sitter. He does all the right things (thanks Art of Manliness!).

I guess my point is there's no one to blame. And while I agree with sexpert Ian Kerner in that you have to have sex to want sex, we're not 23 anymore. We need more sleep. We have a kid. Things ache that didn't used to.

I'm also one of those people who gets easily distracted and overwhelmed by piles of laundry, dirty dishes and Lego pieces everywhere. Kerner also says that "turning her on is about helping her turn it all off." [You heard him honey. The Swiffer's over there.]

I would like us to be together more often. And I know Drama Dad does too. But after the cleaning, folding, schlepping and mommy-ing (oh all right, and blogging) there's not always much left in me at the end of the day for wife-ing.

But I know how important intimacy is in a marriage so I'll take hubby's email as a not so subtle sign we need more together time.

Is this situation being played out in your bedroom too? How have you dealt with it?

*Tomorrow is the last day to enter my contest.

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