It's all in the timing. And the ability to hide behind the pillows!

Amazingly this morning the stars aligned and Rich and I were able to celebrate Noah's first day of 2nd grade with a few minutes of alone time. And when I say the stars aligned I mean both boys were watching TV downstairs and Rich managed to actually lock and latch the bedroom door.

After our little celebration we talking about the logistics of the week and my pre-op appointment tomorrow with the surgeon that is going to be repairing the ol' frankenvulva in a few weeks.

Rich is very much a "I'll deal with the details when I absolutely need to" kind of guy. I'm more the "need to know everything that is going to be happening a week month year from now" kind of gal. When I don't let it irritate the absolute crap out of me it kind of balances us out fairly well.

So Rich was asking me for oh, the third fifth tenth time in the last two days what time the appointment was. I reminded him and then said "remember, they are going to measure you tomorrow."

I heard a half choking/half coughing sound, and he said "ohhhh, really?"

"Yeah. Remember? You knew that. To make sure they get me tight enough."

"Oh, uhh, OK. Right."

"They measure you when you are erect you know." (At this point I'm practically hiding under my pillow so he can't see me trying not to laugh.)

"Huh, ummm, right. Well, I hope the nurse is hot."

Unfortunately, I couldn't hide the fact that I was laughing hysterically at this point and he was on to me. 

"Gotcha!"

The fact that I couldn't follow it through until the appointment tomorrow was almost salvaged by our next conversation.

"So, how long after the surgery do we have to wait until we can have sex?"

"Six months" I mutter as I'm brushing my teeth.

"Damn, wow." 

*toothpaste splatters the mirror as I laugh*

"Fuck, you got me again."

Keeping your Naughty Mom Groove in the groove

If you are in any way related to me, or to my husband, stop reading now. 

See the X up there in the top right corner? Go there and click it. 

Now. 

Seriously.

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No, I mean it. Get out of here.

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Are you still here? Really? Have you no self-control?

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Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you.

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Infertility treatment pretty much takes the fun out of sex. You are told when to do it. You are told when not to do it.  And sometimes you are told to do it (if you are a man anyway) in a cup. And then put the cup in a sock and shove it between your wife's boobs as you try and get it to the lab within the specified amount of time. 

And for some of us lucky gals the entire act of getting pregnant doesn't even need to involve the man being physically present. I like to joke that there were five people in the room when I got pregnant with Kiel, and Rich wasn't one of them. Boy has that resulted in a few odd looks from people that don't know the story.

Once you get pregnant, if you are one of the lucky ones, and you can have sex when ever you want to, you are, well pregnant. And your boobs hurt, and you are nauseous, and omfg you are tired! And the LAST thing you want is someone touching your naughty bits.

If you are lucky you might have a couple months while you are pregnant and the hormones find that magic mix and "omfg I am so tired" turns into "omfg I am so horny!!"  Unfortunately, at least for me, that stage didn't last past the eighth month. And sadly it hasn't really returned.

As mothers we all know it is hard to get back in the sex groove after giving birth. And when you end up with the Frankenvulva family taking up residence in your nethers it is even more difficult. 

Being tired and feeling frazzled a good deal of the time doesn't help this either. In all honesty, by the time I get to go to bed I just want some time alone, with nothing touching me.

So you have to get a little creative to make sure that spark you had when you were first married remains. 

Sometimes keeping that spark means you add some toys. And sometimes those toys are discovered by the baby sitter, like I wrote about here.  

Sometimes it means you get caught by your six-year old "doing yoga."

And sometimes you read a book like Kristen Chase's The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex: A No-Surrender Advice Book for Naughty Moms that reminds you it's important to keep doing that "yoga," just make sure you double check the lock on the bedroom door first.

So here is a little something I wrote last May, that is perfectly suited to Kristen's discussion about "getting caught."

Caught with our pants down and ass in the air

I pride myself on being pretty honest on my blog. Some might say too honest...to the point of TMI. But how can I not share the stuff that makes me laugh? And this morning, I was in hysterics.

You know, with two kids, one of who still sleeps in our room, the opportunity for Rich and I to "get busy" doesn't happen as often as he'd we'd like.

Last night, Rich and I went out to dinner for my birthday. We had a wonderful time and enjoyed great food, even better wine, and each others company. And then we came home and were too stuffed and too tired to enjoy each others company in the nekkid way we had planned.

So this morning Rich settled Noah in front of the TV watching a movie with Kiel, with strict instructions to stay there because he was going to be upstairs with Mommy, and Mommy and Daddy would be deciding how much candy he could have today while they were up there.

So Rich met me upstairs and we got our Sunday morning quickie on. There we are, Rich on top, nekkid butt towards the door (which of course he locked! Come on peoples, we aren't that bad of parents). When all of a sudden we hear "DAD, What are you Doing?" with more confusion in Noah's voice than I've ever heard before. It appears the door was locked, yet it hadn't quite latched itself fully into the door frame.

My quick response: "Exercise, we're exercising Noah."

Rich's quick response: "Yoga, Mommy and Daddy are doing yoga."

Noah: "That's not yoga Daddy."

And that's all he said. Rich was up by then and I was covered up (and laughing hysterically in my pillow) and Noah just wanted to know why we were taking so long to decide about his candy.

Hopefully we didn't scar him for life. He doesn't have a clue about sex yet. I wonder what he'll remember when he finally understands just what we were doing when he saw Daddy doing push-ups on Mommy.

So how about you guys? What are your "caught by your kids" stories? Or even worse, when you caught your own parents! 

Originally posted on May 03, 2009.

This post is part of the Silicon Valley Moms Book Club featuring The Mominatrix Guide To Sex by Kristen Chase.  I received a free copy of the book as part of the book club and monthly discussion.  

And I thought last weeks article would freak out my mother!

And because this is how my luck runs, this will probably be the first post of mine my mother ever reads.

I was emailing earlier today with Drew from Eden Fantasys and he asked if I'd be interested in helping to promote their Sex and the Suburbs columns on their online magazine, Sexis.

I was all, Sure, sounds like my kind of column!

And then he sent me the link, and I saw the topic, and my head hit my desk while I simultaneously clenched and blushed. And I'm still fumbling over what to say, so, well, just check it out if you are interested...or curious...or have a drawer full of lube you want to use up.

I dare you!

BlogHer posts coming soon!

Caught with our pants down and ass in the air

I pride myself on being pretty honest on my blog. Some might say too honest...to the point of TMI. But how can I not share the stuff that makes me laugh? And this morning, I was in hysterics.

You know, with two kids, one of who still sleeps in our room, the opportunity for Rich and I to "get busy" doesn't happen as often as he'd we'd like.

Last night, Rich and I went out to dinner for my birthday. We had a wonderful time and enjoyed great food, even better wine, and each others company. And then we came home and were too stuffed and too tired to enjoy each others company in the nekkid way we had planned.

So this morning Rich settled Noah in front of the TV watching a movie with Kiel, with strict instructions to stay there because he was going to be upstairs with Mommy, and Mommy and Daddy would be deciding how much candy he could have today while they were up there.

So Rich met me upstairs and we got our Sunday morning quickie on. There we are, Rich on top, nekkid butt towards the door (which of course he locked! Come on peoples, we aren't that bad of parents). When all of a sudden we hear "DAD, What are you Doing?" with more confusion in Noah's voice than I've ever heard before. It appears the door was locked, yet it hadn't quite latched itself fully into the door frame.

My quick response? "Exercise, we're exercising Noah."

Rich's quick response? "Yoga, Mommy and Daddy are doing yoga."

Noah? "That's not yoga Daddy."

And that's all he said. Rich was up by then and I was covered up (and laughing hysterically in my pillow) and Noah just wanted to know why we were taking so long to decide about his candy.

Hopefully we didn't scar him for life. He doesn't have a clue about sex yet. I wonder what he'll remember when he finally understands just what we were doing when he saw Daddy doing push-ups on Mommy.

So how about you guys? What are your "caught by your kids" stories? Or even worse, when you caught your own parents!

A Kiss is Just a Kiss...until it vibrates and tickles that is!

In the interest of keeping this blog "family friendly" and not shocking anyone, I've moved this review here to the MNT Review Blog.

I suck!

Sometimes I just suck.

Like last night, when my husband let out a few moans, then said "wow, you're getting better at this." Ummmmm...excuse me? Better? I was BAD before?

Anyway, that wasn't the suckage I meant. I suck at posting the winners of my Third Blogoversary Contest! I said I would do it yesterday morning, but, well, one thing led to another and before I knew it here it is, Sunday afternoon, and I still haven't decided.

Right now it's between Anissa and the "Olympic butts," Kristin and "husband DNA," Lollipop and "bandaid in her underpants" and SF with "things to do in an elevator."

I'm headed outside right now to get Noah to help me pick a letter (A,B,C or D). If I ask him to pick a number he'll just pick the highest number I give him. So predictable.

And the winner is?!?!?! The letter C! Lollipop and "bandaid in her underpants!"

Lolli check out my CafePress site and let me know what you would like from there. Email me your address as well so I can have it shipped out to you.

Thanks everyone for playing! Wish I could give you all a MNT thong, but it's just not in the budget right now. *sigh*