Sigh. I wanted to use a different title…one that used a word that rhymes with block, but I’m a fucking lady and I have standards–but the just will be implied via this post.
And just a heads up to my teenage daughter, Evelyn, who reads my posts and shakes her damn head while doing so, yeah, kid, you’ll wanna sit this one out. Sure we openly talk about sex in this household, but do you REALLY wanna inside peek of your parents’ sex lives? Probably not. Be gone child!
So now that I got the formalities out of the way; now I can say what I really wanted to say…Kids are such cock-blocks. Oh, and also medications and illnesses and injuries and visitors and appointments and, and, and…
I am about 10 weeks postpartum and dude, we’ve had sex about a handful of times since clearance. (We don’t talk about the 3 times PRIOR to clearance and yes, we did it in a manner that would guarantee no pregnancy, lol). And it’s not that I don’t want sex (cue those annoying “frigid wife” cartoons that blame the lack of sex on the wife and her numerous excuses), because hell, I am horny as all ornery hell, but GD life has a shitty way of getting in the way.
Some days it’s about the pure exhaustion that hits us around 8:19pm nightly; after putting the kids to bed, chalking up their chore points, walking around the house straightening up, signing school papers, or whatever else needs attention before we head to the bedroom. And if we don’t IMMEDIATELY jump into the shower right after bedtime, the baby is guaranteed to wake up and what to be fed. And all the sexiness escapes my body–I am a cow being milked and I swear babies are melatonin–I just want to fall asleep right then. So that’s a “road block”…
And then there are the days that I need an extra Hydroxyzine to relax because I either feel overwhelmed, anxious or a manic episode rising and once that hits the blood-stream I am out for the count and there is NO stirring me, no matter how much Derrick tries.
There are mornings we TRY to have a tryst with each other once the kiddos are all removed to school and I’ve gotten the baby to take her mid-morning nap…but, my mom has been staying with us for the past few weeks, helping with the kids and the house and it’s kind of awkward mentioning “Hey, can you watch the baby in the mamaRoo for a few, Derrick and I need to bang one out.” I am in NO WAY complaining about having my mother’s company and help because I will NEVER take that for granted, because I know a many a mothers who aren’t lucky enough to have that. But damn, do I miss our steal-aways in the garage, in the kitchen, and many, many other creative places parents find.
And then there are days like today, when the stars align and everything is perfectly set up to lead up to steamy and deliciously hot shower sex: The baby is asleep in the mamaRoo and the preschooler is zonked out in front of the big screen to Teen Titans Go and the coffee has kicked in and we have a little buzz going, the doors are all locked, the chores are all caught up and we’ve been flirting ALL morning long; with hip grabs and ass smacks and obvious cleavage stares and teasing gropes, along with flirty banter and lingering stolen kisses in the kitchen and so we run, giggling quietly to the bedroom and on the way to the bathroom…Derrick notices Ivy’s huge eyes wide awake, looking around, as if she smells a delicious feast in the air…and she does…I’m naked and slightly engorged, but it’s mostly because I’m ravenous for my hot ass husband and the blood is hella flowing throughout my body. But she smells the milk. And my soul deflates once again.
We convince ourselves that she’ll fall back to sleep and that we ought to hurry just in case and we jump into a shower that’s ridiculously hot because Derrick excitedly overcompensated the heat of the water so cold water wouldn’t “hinder” anything…and so we danced in the back of the cold half of the shower waiting for the water to level out and he starts soaping me up and I’m TRYING to get my head into the game, but then it starts…the subtle grunts, the little yelps and then the big whine. And I hang my head in defeat and the whole atmosphere changes. We go from hot and heavy teenagers to mature-minded adults and I begin to shave in the 5 minutes I have while Derrick dries off to get her and I have the bright idea to have her jump in the shower with me, so I could clean her up and lavender lotion her down, nurse her and she’d go back down.
It seemed to work as a charm, I got her sleepy and Derrick tucked her into the mamaRoo and he came in for a kiss as I’m leaning against the headboard, still in my towel…and guess who opens our bedroom door? Savannah, asking for lunch.
Eventually Derrick left for work and my loins threw a fit because they’d been teased ALL damn morning and I gave myself a sexy psychological workup with binged episodes of Dexter (Mmmhmmm) and we’ve been sending sexy text messages back and forth between his stops. And it’s now 6:30pm and he’s home, but so are ALL the other kids and I am writing this, in between making seared steaks, corn and greens for dinner…and it’s taking all of me to not drag him into the room and just devour him–but there’s no guarantee I’d have a lower volume because I’ve been forced to keep this carnal feline caged all day.
So I am being patient. I am waiting. And I’m thinking about thawing some breastmilk to leave Evelyn, while Derrick and I go for a “dessert” date for a couple hours and make use of that back of the SUV somewhere within the many orange groves of Southern California…
For now, I have my Nitro Stout, my Dexter playing on the iPad next to my laptop and stealing glances of my own cleavage and glances of Derrick, who’s sexily working on his own blog behind me.
I am really looking forward to dessert…