Tag:

sex

relationship advice, married sex, children and marriage, sex, marriage

I’m not usually one to give relationship advice but when marital relations with children in the house is the topic, I feel it’s my duty to warn you about the dangers, especially the Lee Harvey Oswald. No, I didn’t just get shot in the head in Texas and there’s been no grass on the knoll since 1997. But, yes, to my horror I did just get shot in the eye unexpectedly. It was funny but not really because I’m pretty sure a mom can lose her left eye in such shenanigans.

Look, I’m not trying to go all TMI on you so early in the morning but most of you have kids, so you will totally get this and if you don’t have kids, you were a teenager at one point and had parents (more than likely) so you will totally understand what I am about to tell you.  It’s a tale as old as time, people trying to have sex while not trying to get caught by other people (in our case, little people.) I love the Big Guy more today than I did when we first got together almost 20 years ago and I still think he’s the hottest man in the room, but as our girls have gotten older “couple time” has gotten tricky.

This is the one bit of relationship advice about sex that you will want to take.

See, the kids are getting a little older and that means they are staying up a little later and getting up a little earlier. The point being after a couple episodes of Big Bang Theory or Last Week Tonight our “alone time” is spent which means that leaves very little time for “adult time”. That stinks. We’re humans, not just parents, we have needs. Needs and desires that require us to feel and be adults; entities that exist outside the realm of Mommy and Daddy.

A couple weeks ago the Big Guy was home for a week with a raging case of pink eye and believe me you; we used up every single moment of free time. It was like we were back in college just he had pink eye, I was jet lagged and we were in a bed and not in a rickety loft. Either way, it reminded us of how important “us time” really is. It’s not about just sex, it’s about intimacy and all it takes is some sneaky squirrel antics on our part, at least 15 minutes of distracted kids and a locked door is nice too. Damn open door policy in our house.

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve spent the last decade playing the worst game of sex hide and seek ever. That game is stressful and not romantic. When they were small it was easy, we could take it to the living room floor, the conjugalorium, the half bath or even the laundry room or a closet if we were really in dire straights. Sure we got busted a couple times but we played it off. They thought they dreamt mommy and daddy were wrestling.

But now, if we’re caught someone’s going to be traumatized. The girls are ballerinas and I swear they must float on air because they need to wear bells because they are the best sidlers I’ve ever known, especially the little one so the risk of getting busted is dangerously high.

This morning the girls requested an early wake up call so that they could shower. We saw our opportunity. We had to take it. So the minute we heard the shower start, the clock was ticking. We locked the door and took what was ours.

Then it happened. I got Oswalded. We heard the shampoo drop and in a frantic rush we knew it was now or never. We also knew that I was ovulating and we are a strictly no more baby household, especially considering that a couple weeks ago everyone in my gynecologist’s office couldn’t stop asking if I was menopausal? It must be the matronly swagger with which I rock my skinny jeans and TOMs.

In a frantic scurry not to procreate, we “ disengaged” and that’s when “it” grazed my stomach, ricocheted off of my left breast and hit me squarely beneath my eye before continuing on to the pillow. MY EYE! I was in shock. Was I dead? Was I bleeding? One thing I knew for sure, and thank God for the positive side of everything, I wasn’t pregnant.

Now, I totally get it…the whole, you’ll shoot your eye out and you’ll go blind statements of our mothers past…the force with which a weekend build up holds could surely render me a wondrous one-eyed Willie. How the hell would I explain that my husband Lee Harvey Oswalded me during a quickie because we were afraid our kids would catch us?

Here’s the relationship advice everybody trying to have sex with kids in the house should heed…

Lock the damn door and take your time. You deserve it. I know it’s hard having with kids standing on the other side and it’s a little terrifying especially since I think my littlest might know how to pick a lock but damn it, your eyesight is important. It’s all fun and games until someone gets their eye shot out and a sticky eyebrow as a parting gift.

As a parent what piece of relationship advice would you give another parent about having sex with kids, especially older ones, in the house?

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romance, marriage, the romance of marriage,sex

The romance of marriage might not look anything like what you thought it would when you first fell in love. Then again, nothing ever does. Hell, I was the best parent in the world before I gave birth and I had a very specific vision of what my romantic life with the man I loved would look like. I didn’t know shit.

In the beginning, romance meant not being able to keep our hands off of one another. It was every minute of every day being together, or at least wanting to be together. It meant nights sitting on rooftops, snuggled together watching the stars and kissing. In the beginning, it was sitting in his lap, long walks late at night talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. We were in college and on that first night, we met and neither of  us was particularly interested in the other but by the end of that night, something unexpected happened; he was everything I never knew I always wanted.

We’ve been married now for almost 17 years now, which comes as a shock to everyone, especially since we got engaged after only 4 months of knowing one another. He said he just knew. I was a little less rash in the beginning but I knew I loved him and I couldn’t imagine spending my life without him.

The romance of marriage evolves as it goes on.

Over time, the definition of romance has changed as we have grown and changed. Before children, it meant long weekends together, eating at 5-star restaurants, dancing and laughing until out legs couldn’t support us any longer. Then it meant making our way back to our hotel room through a fog of alcohol and lust and making love until we collapsed in one another’s arms. Those were the days when everything was ahead of us.

Then on one particularly special weekend spent celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary in New Orleans and life took a pleasantly unexpected turn, we were “blessed” with the conception of our first child. Then, weekends away were no more. Date nights went into retirement for 5 long years but it didn’t matter, we were too tired and too broke to go out anyways. To be honest those first few “date nights” and most after that for a couple years, we spent eating take out in our pajamas in quiet and going to bed at a reasonable hour; sometimes sex happened and sometimes it didn’t and we were both okay with that because anyone who has ever been a parent knows that sleep is way more important for everyone involved. It’s not like we’ve forgotten that “sex” is what got us into this predicament in the first damn place.

Not that I’m bitter about parenthood. I love my children, as much as anyone can love children that are awake. They are my favorite children in the world. I can tolerate their whining almost constantly but we’ve come to a point in our lives where we fully recognize, with the help of some sleep, that our children are only a temporary situation. Parenting little kids is not a permanent status, not in the way it is today or yesterday or will be tomorrow. It is ever changing and evolving. It is amazing, terrible and fantastic all at the same time and I wouldn’t change a second of it (not even the colicky ones or the night terrors or the endless nights of sleeplessness). It’s the best thing I will ever do.

These days date nights are still pretty few and far between for the Big Guy and I. Not that we don’t enjoy a night on the town, it’s just that date night for us means kids sleeping over at Grandma’s and that means a whole lot of coordinating of dates and times because Grandma and Grandpa have a life (more than the Big Guy and I apparently). But sometimes, a couple just needs a date night; a minute to remember whom you were before babies. A second to remember why you used to forgo sleep and food just to devour this other person literally and metaphorically; why they were your everything. They are still there and you need to recognize that, out loud, at least occasionally. A little slap on the ass, deep kiss in the middle of the afternoon or a text that says, ” I can’t stop thinking about you sexy!” can go a long way in reminding them that you still find them to be an attractive sexual being, even if it’s buried under spit up and stains and a hangry attitude.

The romance of marriage is about loving someone so much that you can still see them, even when they feel like they have begun to disappear.

So we jumped through all the hoops, signed all the necessary documents and voila, 3 weeks later we got a date night approved and it was glorious. First, he took me to see a horror movie in.the.theater. That never happens. We are all about the Netflix and Chill situation. In return, I chose a restaurant that he had been wanting to try; a microbrewery in an old warehouse. It was by no stretch of the imagination 5-star but it was quaint and it was nice to be there with him. Hell, I was having such a good time sitting at our chalkboard table, sampling my flight of craft beers (totally out of my comfort zone) that I barely even noticed the herd of hipsters with handlebar mustaches playing chutes and ladders or some shit at the next table. Barely but obviously a little bit. Who the hell cannot stare at a handlebar mustache with a man bun and a Member’s Only jacket playing Chutes and Ladders? Seriously.

We ordered off of the very limited (as if it were secret) menu. My choices were a Nutella hotdog or a BLT with Gouda or some other 3 pub specialties. I chose the BLT because I was starving and needed something to fill my empty stomach that was fighting what I found out the next morning to be the flu. The Big Guy chose some sort of beef sandwich. But none of that was important, what was important was that there we were talking, drinking, laughing and being “us” with no one calling us mommy or daddy for miles.

At one particularly romantic moment of the night, I excused myself to the restroom only to return to my seat to find the words “SEXY!” with an arrow pointing to my seat scribbled in chalk on the table. Sounds simple, right? But it made me feel sexy. It made me feel like he saw me, for the first time in a long time. Of course, he soon followed that message up with his own message on his side of the table, directed toward the waitress, “ Check Please. I’m going home to have SEX!” It made me laugh. It made me feel wanted and we left the hipsters to their chutes and ladders. Sure, it was only 10 p.m. but that was really f*cking adorable.

On the way home I told him that I really wanted something sweet. Obviously, the hipster brew worx didn’t serve dessert unless you count the Nutella on the all beef hotdog. I didn’t. So he stopped by the grocery ran in and returned the sexiest man alive with a box of fudge pop tarts and a giant bouquet of wild flowers from the grocery store, just because…my favorite kind of flowers in the world. Apparently, I’m cheap and easy.

It wasn’t a five star date night by any stretch of the imagination but it had the same effect and ended the same way, minus the dancing until our legs gave out because since I broke my leg, it doesn’t work like it used to. Of course, leave it to him to make even that sexy because I’ll be damned if he didn’t give that ugly scar a little kiss while he massaged my leg that night, like he’s done for months while I’ve been recovering from this broken leg.

That’s what the romance of marriage is really about, falling in love with the same person over and over again throughout time. Choosing to love them every day.

What is your definition of the romance of marriage?

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cast fetish, broken leg, recovery, updates from the couch, physical therapy

I’ve had an eventful week, I discovered what the term cast fetish means. Ever heard of it? Me neither until now.

Last week I had my 8-week follow up appointment with my orthopedic surgeon for my broken leg and the news was good. I was released to begin weight bearing. This week I’m up to half weight bearing. I’m not fully functional yet but I’m driving and it’s better than being stuck on the couch like I had been for the previous 8 weeks. 8 weeks is a lifetime when you are used to being on the go all the time. I felt like I was doing time or under house arrest.

When the doctor gave me the news that I could start walking with crutches, I was so excited. I nearly danced a happy dance until I realized that my leg might not be quite strong enough yet so instead I opted for a little wheelchair boogie. Oh yes, I did!

The thing is this has been a crazy, long eight weeks and if it weren’t for all the amazing people who have jumped in to support me and pick up the slack and just pray and cheer me up, I don’t know how I would have gotten through it. Granted I’m still going through it but I feel like I’m coming out the other side. I can put some weight on my foot. That means everything. I never knew how much until now.

This experience has forced me to slow down and take inventory of my life and my health. I have reprioritized because the things I was racing around and breaking my neck to get to just aren’t that important anymore.

I’ve also garnered a new respect for toddlers. No wonder it takes them so long to learn to walk. It’s scary, especially with the possibility of falling ever looming. The last time I fell, my entire life changed.

I started physical therapy with elastic resistance bands on my broken foot this week. I was super excited because, in my mind, the more I can do to get back to normal the better life will be. My doctor has warned me that there might be setbacks but, you know me, I always think I’m going to be the exception so I went for it. I was all in at Tuesday’s physical therapy session and by Tuesday night, I was nearly in tears because my leg is so sore. That’s what I get for showing off.

There’s been some swelling and stiffness the last couple of days. I have another therapy session in about 15 minutes. I won’t lie. I’m kind of terrified. I want to keep moving forward. I don’t want to keep getting slowed down by pain but I guess that’s all part of recovery.

Of course, through all of this, I’ve discovered a bizarre, even seedy, side to broken bones. Throughout the entire ordeal, I’ve been posting photos and updates of my broken leg to my Instagram, Facebook and Twitter accounts because as a blogger, this is what I do. It’s been a great source of moral support. However, recently, I have noticed a rash of likes on my Instagram photos of my broken leg. Huh? Then it happened.

My Instagram profile is public because it’s part of my brand but I go through and block anyone who I get the “heebie-jeebies” from because there are photos of my children on there. So imagine my shock when suddenly there were tons of likes on every one of the photos I posted of my broken leg and most of those were from men who I don’t know in real life.

I was curious so I checked out their pages and every single one of them are men with fetishes for women with broken legs and/or casts. It’s a real thing.

Cast fetish is a kind of fetishism with an erotic concentration on orthopedic casts (plaster, polymer, bandage, etc.) It is usually related to the fetishes of feet, stockings, shoes and amputees. The sufferers usually like the opposite gender wearing casts on their limbs, using crutches, or limping around. Sometimes, socks and stockings will increase the attraction of the afflicted. Basically, these fetishists prefer their partners physically broken and for maximum pleasure, missing limbs.

It’s called a cast fetish.

I’ve never felt so dirty in my entire life. I mean, WTF, the thought of some creepy troll wanking himself to my dislocated ankle is disturbing to say the least. Are these men sadist who get their rocks off from seeing a woman in pain?

Then I realized there is an entire subculture of men with this fetish. In fact, there is porn that actually specializes in this sort of injury. What? I guess it takes all kinds. I won’t judge but I also won’t allow you to file my agony in your spank bank for later use. Sorry, I’ll have to block you.

What’s the weirdest thing you ever heard or saw on social media?

Did you know there was such a thing as a broken leg or cast fetish?

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sex, Mexican food, Mexican food and sex don't mix, sex after children, marriage

Mexican food does not mix well with sex and it’s not for the reason that you might think. It has nothing to do with beans, though, I am sure that has it’s own set of consequences. Mexican Subway anyone. ( Just Google it. You know you want to.) This is something my mom should have warned me about when she gave me “the talk”. Well, maybe she did. Our sex talk went a little  like this, ” It’s going to hurt A LOT!” Then my dad chimed in, “Don’t do it!” Maybe they were telling me their truth…

Mexican food and sex don’t mix!

Since having children, finding the time to have sex (whether Mexican food recipes are involved or not) has become a challenge. Making love has gone from being recreational to a full on covert ops sport. The days of spontaneous sex are long gone, unless you count the rogue moments of bathroom sex or Saturday morning, wake up early, quietly lock the door and do it quick and dirty. Oh yeah, that happens. Quick and dirty is the specialty in this house with an 8 and 10-year-old. Those broads know how to jimmy the door open.

But sometimes when you try to do it quick and dirty, well, to be quite frank, people get burned. I know this because I was recently on the receiving end of a bad combination of Mexican food and lovemaking. That’s right, a little healthy fooling around with my Big Guy ended with me in the shower pouring milk straight onto my vagina. See, I told you that it had nothing do with beans!

So, you’re thinking to yourself, what kind of kinky shit are Debi and the mister getting themselves into over there? Well, let’s just say that you should always wash your hands at least three times after handling spicy foods, especially peppers. I know because, well, I’m Mexican and have put jalapeno, habanero and all sorts of peppers, accidentally, into my eyeballs throughout my lifetime. It’s a damn miracle that I’m not blind. Apparently, my eyeballs are kinky and like it hot and rough. This is obviously a lesson lost on my 100% caucasian husband, otherwise, he might have known…and heeded my father’s warning of, “Don’t do it!”

The other night after a mouth-watering meal of homemade Mexican food, the Big Guy and I were feeling the heat and getting a little frisky between the sheets. It was all well and good until Mr. Vagina Whisperer over here decided to get a little up close and personal with my nether regions. Look, I am all about a good “massage” but, men, you MUST wash your hands if you’ve been handling hot spices or peppers, especially if you just deseeded 5 veiny jalapeños for your super secret, ultra spicy homemade salsa. Well, this goes for all men; in general, all men must wash hands before lovemaking. Think of it as one of those signs posted in Fast Food restaurant bathrooms, if it helps.

All I know is that one minute, I was enjoying the “massage” and the next, I was feeling the burn and immediately following that I was in the shower screaming for the Big Guy to bring me all the milk in the house. This girl was on fire, and not in the good Alicia Keys way. I was a very, unhappy burning crotch down under kind of girl on fire. Bad things were happening to my lady bits and I could do nothing but watch in horror as the flames engulfed me.

You know how when you eat a really spicy pepper your lips start tingling, then they start swelling and then you’re crying because the burn is like a thousand bee stings. Yes, I had that….right there in my vagina and vagina adjacent region.

Just to recap….

Mexican Food and Sex Don’t Mix!

Write it down. I’ll wait.

The moral of the story is this, there are a few things that I’ve learned over the years that certainly don’t mix with sex; spicy Mexican food fingers being at the top of that list (no you poured $8 a gallon organic milk on your vagina in the middle of the night to stop feeling the burn), toddlers within 5 miles of an unlocked bedroom (no you were naked wrestling with your husband when you to caught by a 2-year-old and played dead) and certain sleep aids for insomniacs. Here is my rule of thumb, Ambien is great for forgotten, wild sex weekends but Xanax before bed can leave your partner with the longest hand job in the history of the universe. Think puff, puff, give but instead…rub, rub, snore. I hear it’s embarrassing and you never live it down because truly the only thing funnier is a Norwegian Knob gobbler. Now, go Google that and have a nice day.

And remember, no sex after handling spicy foods until all parts that have come in contact with the heat have been properly cleansed and eradicated of any spicy residue. You’ll thank me later.

What’s your best sex advice?

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marriage, sex, couples, marriage, commuter marriage, love, relationships,sex

Maybe you can’t relate to my particular circumstances, maybe you can. Marriage is hard, especially when you love your spouse and worse, if you like him. You can imagine what shit mine has been since my husband is, quite literally, my best friend.

For the past 5 years (almost 6), we have been “not normal.” Well, definitely not traditional. We went from a young family with a preschooler and barely a toddler living in a nice suburban college town to a family separated by time and distance via a commuter marriage. The Big Guy worked in one state; we lived in another and only saw him on weekends. In case you were wondering what that was or how it goes, it sucks by the way. It sucks BIG TIME!

To be honest, this was the time I started this blog. Maybe I should have named it “This is why Marriage Sucks” blog. But it didn’t suck. The situation did but I loved my husband, and more than that, I liked him…a lot. I still do most days.

Then, after 2 years of that utter hell and mess of commuter marriage and the loss and gain of 3 separate jobs, we finally got to live together with my in-laws for a year, that was the year that I had a miscarriage and turned 40. It pretty much blew.

Then we bought a house; a fixer upper that we are still fixing up, but a place of our own. The Big Guy was still driving 2 hours each way to and from work. Do the math. He left for work at 5 a.m. He got home from work at 5:15 p.m. Our girls go to bed at 7:00. He went to bed at 9 p.m. The girls and I see him for about 1 hour and 45 minutes a day, Monday thru Friday. Oh yes, it did f*cking suck.

I haven’t complained for a long time. After all, what was the point? We had no control over that situation. It was a down economy and being middle class, we had no handouts or hands up to be given. We had to figure it out and we did. I’ve just been grateful for the little wins but I will be honest with you now, it was hard.

He missed most of our children’s childhood up until this point. That was rough on all of us, most of all him. He went from the all in father who did everything with his girls to being essentially a part time dad, against his will which made me, ahem, an almost single mother. It was lonely and overwhelming.

Don’t get your panties in a twist. Yes, I had him on weekends but weekends are not enough when you are expecting forever. Try it, and then you will see how terrible it really is. They lie when they say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all because when you’ve loved, you know what you’re missing and it goes the same for marriage.

Today, for the first time in 5 years (most of our children’s lives) we live together, sleep together, in the same house, in the same state, 7 nights a week. This morning the Big Guy started a new job in our town, 20 minutes away. This morning our family finally became normal again.

This morning he kissed me goodbye. This morning our girls got to say, “Good Morning, Daddy” and wrap their little arms around his big neck. This morning I didn’t have to worry about my husband driving 2 hours on icy roads each way, holding my breath until he was home. This morning, for the first time in a long time, I felt like things were going to work themselves out…finally.

Tonight, he will be home in time for dinner and not be exhausted from getting up at 4:30 a.m. After the girls go to bed, we will be able to snuggle on the couch and watch television and talk to one another, instead of just a short catch up on what happened with the kids before he went to bed in another room as I stayed up until the wee hours of the night doing work.

Today, we are “normal” again.

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ky liquibeads, couple in bed, marital relations

I am a member of collective bias and this shop has been compensated by #CollectiveBias, Inc. and it’s advertiser. All thoughts and opinions are mine alone.

Warning: This is a PG-13 post in which I discuss marital relations between consulting adults but if you are easily offended by discussing adult themed topics, you are welcome to stop reading.

What do you get for that special man in your life who has everything this Christmas? There is one thing that I know the Big Guy (and every guy for that matter) always likes…you know what I’m talking about, the freedom to be spontaneous like before you became parents. A little unprovoked, unsolicited, uninterrupted (ahem) personal “attention” and he can’t buy that (well, he can but he really shouldn’t.) Since I don’t own a time machine, nor are my beloved kids refundable, I’m asking Grandma to keep the kids overnight, adding a little personal lubricant ( come on ladies, you all know what I mean, sometimes we need a little jumpstart) and letting the good times roll. Merry Christmas, baby!

The Big Guy and I have been married forever for 15 years. When we first got married, romance was easy. We were in our 20’s so attraction and having relations didn’t take any effort at all. We were breathing and we were always ready. It didn’t hurt that we were both pretty hot. We were spontaneous because we had the leisure of time, privacy and youth. There was no stress, laundry or tiny people crawling on us and promptly spitting up on one or both of us. FYI, spit up.is.not.attractive.Not even on Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp. These days, we are simply spontaneous challenged.

We’re 40ish. We have kids who are just old enough to be nosier than they should be. I have insomnia. He gets up for work at 4:30 a.m. and every night is a game of musical beds, thanks to recovering co-sleepers who still think they lay claim to our bed. Sometimes we’re just too damn tired. Yes, it happens!

Don’t feel sorry for us yet. Thanks to a couple afternoons of working from home, we manage some “us” time but I miss making out on the couch (with no one under 5 foot asking, “What cha doin?”), and being able to be spontaneously whisked off to bed/floor/kitchen countertops or finish what we started because kids arguing over Barbie dolls in the next room causes everything south to go dry like the Sahara. Honestly, why does no one tell you that children are female erection killers?

Speaking of which, last week, for 48 hours straight, on 3 occasions, the Big Guy and I were trying to “have relations” when the 7-year-old burst into the room or beat at the door. It’s like she’s my mom and she has radar whenever I might be trying to do the deed. I’m a teenager all over again, except this time I’ve got a mortgage and gray hair and I’m trying not to get busted by a person who sometimes still needs me to cut up her food. Thank God for bathrooms with locks.

So forget waiting for the perfect time, I’m sick of trying to fit “couple time” in between the minute they go to sleep and the surprise hour that they have to pee/get water/ or remember they had homework. Mama needs some adult time with the Big Guy.

ky liquibeads, couple in bed, marital relations

This Saturday, I’m giving us an early Christmas present, a child-free night where we can just be Debi and the Big Guy (not mommy and daddy) and maybe channel those two college students who met 17 years ago. I’ve enlisted grandma to keep the girls overnight, made a trip to Target and bought some K-Y® LIQUIBEADS® (to make sure everything down below is ready to go at a moments notice), made reservations for dinner at a place that doesn’t serve chicken nuggets and can’t wait to see where the night leads.

ky liquibeads, couple in bed, marital relations

I’ve heard good things about the K-Y® LIQUIBEADS® and they seem easy to use.

  • Simply place the OVULE insert firmly into the top of the applicator so it will not fall out.
  • Hold the applicator containing the OVULE insert by the opposite end from where the OVULE insert is located.
  • Gently insert the applicator into the vagina as far as it will go comfortably.This can be done while standing with your feet comfortably apart and knees bent.
  • Push the plunger all the way in to place th OVULE insert as far back in the vagina as possible.
  • Throw away applicator after use.
  • Insert a bead once every few days so that your body is ready whenever the mood may strike.

ky liquibeads, couple in bed, marital relations

I know sometimes when you are pregnant, you really want to be “spontaneous” often, especially with all those “romantic” dreams but if you’re pregnant or nursing, consult a doctor before using.

 

Coupon available coupon available at coupons.com $1 off any K-Y® product –

 

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relationship advice, married sex, children and marriage, sex, marriage

You ever wonder if their are things that turn men off that we might think are sexy? You’ve heard the old saying that men are from Mars and women are from Venus, right? We obviously speak a different language and process things differently. Does it have anything to do with having an innie or an outtie? I don’t know but I do know that what we think is sexy and what our man thinks is sexy may be two totally different things.

I’ve never thought about what turns men off. I guess, as women, we are lucky that way. Men usually pursue us so we don’t have to work as hard for it. But maybe we should. Maybe we should care enough to actually try to figure out what our men like or don’t like in bed. I think before I got married and had babies, I really tried. I wore all the skimpy lingerie, tried all the new things and was always up for anything. Then I had children and well, keeping little people alive and being covered in bodily fluids has a weird way of making women feel super unsexy. Gradually, I just sort of stopped trying as hard.I won’t lie. I am exhausted 99% of the time.

For instance, I know we’ve all been guilty of wearing something super comfy but totally unsexy to bed. I once had these pajama shorts that were SOOOOOO comfortable but not very sexy. Not even cute. One day my husband outright asked me, “Honey, can you PLEASE  just throw them away?”

After I was done crying, I threw them away. I guess I could have kept them and used them as erection kryptonite but instead I threw them away because I don’t want to purposely turn my husband off. I want to be the woman who still turns him on. I need to put some effort into proactively making him feel wanted. I don’t think any of us want to make our partner feel unwanted, right?

Aside from my erection killing sleep shorts, here are a few other things that might be putting a damper on your sex life. No fear, we can fix them.

Coyness

Sure, a shy woman is a challenge and most men like a a demure flower so they can feel like they earned it but men also like to feel like the woman they are with actually enjoys sex and wants to be there. Own your sexuality. No more quietly lying there like dead weight or trying to hide beneath the cloak of darkness. That’s not doing either of you any favors. Don’t be afraid to ask for what you want. He wants you. He’s naked in your bed. You are the prize. Now, start acting like it. Throw those shoulders back, push that ass out and work what your mama gave you. He will love it. You don’t have to be perfect, you just have to be happy with who you are.

Teeth touching his manhood

Repeat after me, raking is bad! Hate to break it to you but teeth on sensitive private parts equals turn off, even if you are gentle. I know sometimes biting is fun and sexy. Biting his lip, his neck, his chest or even is ass are definite turn ons but when you get to his member, be gentle. You wouldn’t want him to find your clitoris only to bite it, would you?

Grabbing too hard

Sure men like to have their testicles touched, cupped and kissed. You can gently suck and even lick but testicles are not detachable. Never yank on them. It hurts. Just think of what it feels like when a guy twists your nipples. Hello! Tuning in Tokyo is so 1980. Word to the wise, be gentle unless otherwise specifically requested.

Inserting things without warning

Wow! This one could get us all hurt. Many men like their prostate massaged. It really is a turn on for most men but just like you don’t like surprise anal sex neither does your man. If he’s not expecting it, he might clench up and it could really hurt ( both of you). Never just randomly insert something into his anus whether it be a finger, a fist or a plug. There has to be a discussion, some lube, a warning and maybe a safe word. No matter how much you might dream about it, we are not all living in Christian Grey’s world. There are somethings that you just can’t spring on a partner during the act.

Licking it like it’s a lollipop

There is no denying that men love blow jobs. But licking anything like a lollipop can cause serious catastrophic chapping to the manhood. A chapped penis will not be a useful one. It may put your guy out of sexual commission for a week and ladies, they do not sell Carmex for your penis.

Continuing past the sensitivity

OK, I think we might all be guilty of this. If your man has already maxed out in pleasure and you continue to “pleasure”him after he tells you to stop, it’s actually painful. I know we think it’s more of a good thing but it’s actually too much of a good thing. Unless you want to get smacked across the head, I suggest you that you slowly back away from his manhood and no one will get hurt.

Talking too nasty

Men like women who talk dirty but not too nasty. For instance, “oh baby, I’ve been a bad girl.Spank me” = good. “Oh baby,pull my tampon out with your teeth!” = bad. Your nasty mouth may turn him completely off, luckily if you know what you’re doing with your mouth you can turn that frown upside down in 5 seconds flat.

Not trying new things

Sure there might be a couple things that you are really good at and hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it but sex is supposed to be a fun adventure for two, or three if that’s what you’re into, but if you do the same thing, in the same place over and over again, it gets boring for him and for you. I’m sure your man appreciates your professional grade strip teases or your perfected BJs but sometimes throw in an afternoon delight reverse cowboy and blow his mind. Spice it up. You have to try everything at least twice and then you can decide whether or not you like it and that applies to all areas of life. If your partner suggests some new positions, or role playing or just a new twist on an old favorite, try it you might like it.

Ladies, don’t feel bad, I have a list for the men too. I will publish that next week because there are things that they think are sexy and are totally turning us off too. But today, ladies, what’s your best, no -fail tip of how to turn your man on?

Men, what things that turn men off do we women do because we think it’s sexy?

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Today, puberty is hitting at age 7. 8 years olds are wearing cleavage producing bikinis. Padded bras are being made to fit 4 year olds. They are making  heels to fit infants. What’s next, pole dancing lessons in utero? Any mommy worth her salt has to search high and low to find clothes that DON’T make her little girl look like a sex worker.It’s hard having little girls. Kids are growing bigger and taller, faster. Many are being born to older parents and the kids themselves are maturing faster than when we were young. I mean I remember still playing with barbies at 12 and NOT having any boobs.Now, girls are having sex by age 12. It’s freaking scary to think of how fast society tries to make our children become adults.

What’s the rush? Why are we pushing them towards adulthood? It’s like training your ass off to compete in an iron man only to find out that the prize is to perpetually compete in iron men. I try to insure that my little girls get to be little girls. I don’t dress them like miniature adults because they are not adults. I don’t let them watch adult movies or listen to inappropriate music. My rule is if I have to explain something that they shouldn’t know, then they are too young to be exposed to it.

I have friends who have had little girls ( ages 4-6) and I hear them say things like, “Yes, my daughter so and so  has a boyfriend in her kindergarten class”. They giggle and they smirk and I stand there thinking to myself…ARE.YOU.FUCKING. MENTAL?? Seriously, do they realize how utterly ridiculous they even sound saying these words?I mean to they even realize what they are contributing to? It’s like they are non-verbally telling their little girls, Thank God a boy likes you.You are worth something. WTF is this? 1950’s…CHINA?

I try hard to not make my girls feel like their worth is wrapped up in their sexuality..because it is not.Plus, I’ve come from a mom who has spent our entire life telling my sisters and I , “I just wish you had a husband and some children so I wouldn’t have to worry about you anymore.”( This statement alone could earn a person a throat punch…..if she weren’t my Mother) I mean what does that even mean? Is there some sort of exchange going on?Are we incapable of actually taking care of ourselves ( in her mind)? Are we worthless if not validated by marriage and children?

So,this afternoon when we had a play date at the zoo with my 6 year olds best friend..a little boy, for the first time ever, I felt a little uncomfortable.I’ve never felt uncomfortable with their behavior before. This little boy really is her best friend. They run to each other every morning and hug one another and hold hands in line…just like she does with any of her little girl friends. It’s never bothered me before because, I know the kid.I know his family. There is nothing sexual or devious about it. It’s just two little kids being affectionate.But today, as we walked behind the two of them and they were walking side by side with the occasional hand holding punctuated by about 27 random hugs, it felt excessive. Then when his mom told him to stop “manhandling her so much” ( on about the 26th hug) this was his reply “Mom,She’s my friend. She likes it. I like it. Leave us alone!” I was thrust into the future about 10 years and WTF?

My question is what is too much? Where do you draw the line between differentiating between being affectionate and being sexualized? What’s appropriate? What’s not? Is it reasonable to expect our children to behave as children when society is trying to make them adults at every turn? What are your thoughts?

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I’ve been tagged by Naomi from Organic Motherhood with Coolwhip to describe my perfect man. To be honest, I am happily married to the Big Guy for 11 years now and the idea of being single again is one that is so far removed from my brain that I’m pretty sure that I’ve forgotten how to do/be it at all. Not to mention, I’d probably rip my hair out going through that process again.I was young the first time.I was hot. It was easy:)However, before I was married to my Big sexy, world traveling, soul mate of mine I had much different criteria.I think hot, a pulse, and a bad attitude were the only requirements. Let’s leave it at the fact that I kissed more than my fair share of big, nasty, wart ridden, bad attitude having toads before finding my prince.

And so, without further ado, I will give you my list of qualifications for the perfect man. Obviously, the position is currently and permanently filled, but I do have two sisters and a plethora of female family and friends who would love a man who meets these criteria.

1. Must live in the same zip code.Long distance and traveling can no longer be tolerated on any level. I have had my fill.
2. Must love me unconditionally and blindly.I understand that there are other women out there, but you must never acknowledge their existence in my presence.
3. Must be willing to listen to my narcissistic and incessant ramblings about my blog, why my children are geniuses, how I am always right.Must be able to tolerate my acute case of verbal diarrhea that I have developed as a result of having children and being a SAHM. I am serious, you will be hit with a barrage of words upon your arrival..every day.
4. Must be ready and willing to please me at any moment, as my time is very valuable and you can only get in when I can fit you in.Must also be willing to not get offended if I am too exhausted to reciprocate:)
5. Must be willing to inform me when ‘Pedro’ is making an appearance, so that I can wax, as I am too busy to notice such things as facial hair because of the hecticness that is my life, plus all mirrors in my house are smudged with tiny hand prints.
6. Must know how to cook,bake birthday cakes, take out garbage, drive a riding mower,do laundry fold laundry,put away laundry, change the toilet paper roll and pick up your socks.
7. Must think I am a sex goddess even when I am being a raging hormonal bitch, am gestating a giant fruit of your loins, or have doubled in size due to water retention.
8. Must be willing to simultaneously film, photograph, hold my hand,look deep into my soul and tell me I am beautiful when I am giving birth.
9. Must not be afraid of a beautiful woman who has a Ricky Ricardo laugh and pees when she sneezes or laughs too hard..
10. Must be willing to laugh at life, cry with me, hold me when I am sad, and love me like you did back when we were in college….before gray hairs, love handles, breasts that fed, and child induced exhaustion set in.
11.Must be willing to take over all parenting duties the moment you walk in the house.
12.Must be adorable to look at and not make annoying sounds when breathing, sleeping, chewing, or talking.
13.Must be willing to reciprocate all that is given to you by me, emotionally, physically, and other!
14.Must like to cuddle on cold nights and go a little Prodigy Firestarter on me, when the occasion dictates.
15.Above all else, must head over heels love crazy, hot tempered, exotic, passionate, mouthy ME!

Thank God, I already found the Big Guy.I never knew I was so picky until I realized he was everything I never knew that I always wanted ( see aforementioned list). Please, tell me what your perfect man would be.Tag your it!

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