sex

I’m done being thankful now. Well, you know what I mean. Life may recommence sucking.

For some reason, this week my 4 year old decided she hates the world and everyone in it except for Grandma. Grandma is always exempt because she lets the girls watch tons of television and eat tons of junk food. She especially hates her parents. I did not know about this stage of development. Or, more accurately, I was under the impression that this stage of development would come around the time of her first period and not around the time of her 5th birthday. She’s taken to throwing herself on the floor, full out, very dramatically, and making pronouncements like, “I’m moving to France so I never have to see you again.”

Conversely, my 2 year old has decided to finish up with the terrible 2’s and be delightful. I’m glad they’re taking turns being dreadful, at the very least. However, this means that the 2 year old has become a target of the 4 year old’s rage at the world. This morning, she went to tell her sister not to go downstairs without a mom “’cause it not safe, sissy!” and was full-body tackled to the floor. My 4 year old may have a future in the NFL.

Then there’s my always dreadful sex life. I am coming to the conclusion that as much as we love each other, my wife and I are just not sexually compatible. Which sucks. A lot. We (read: the bank) own a home, have two children together, and are intricately entangled in each others’ lives. There’s no untangling that could be done without tearing the fabric of our family, perhaps permanently, even if I wanted to. But, I love my wife very much. I don’t want to untangle, particularly. I also hear bikini waxing is a thing that single people do. I’d like to avoid that. I just don’t know what to do about it. Platonic partners? Awkward and unfulfilling sex? Sex therapist (shudder!)?

OH! And my former best friend came into town from halfway across the country and didn’t call me. Which I get, but kind of sucks anyway.

On the plus side, at this moment I’m listening to music and cuddling on the couch with my dog.

Lately, the topic of sex has come up a lot. In conversations, in internet forums, on TV. Who is having sex? Who is too tired? Who even cares about sex after they’ve had children? How does one get one’s mojo back? Do lesbians really suffer from “lesbian bed death”? To schedule or not to schedule? Sex therapy? Platonic partnerships? It’s all a little bit much for me.

Sure, sex is important. I’d like to be having it, in theory. And I’m here to tell you LBD is real! We were talking about sex the other day and my wife said, “But we’ve been having sex! We had sex already once this month, two weeks ago!” Folks, it’s the 20th of the month and that seemed reasonable to her. And, really, she’s not alone. If given the choice between sex and sleep, how many of us with small children would choose sleep? For fans of Grey’s Anatomy, remember when Izzie and George were trying to have sex after their drunken encounter and they finally get the time and she starts crying because she’s so exhausted and she only shaved one leg and she just NEEDS sleep? Yes. Like that.

Sometimes I think, “What’s the big deal, anyway? If we love each other and we parent together and hang out and cook and watch TV and have a life together….then does it matter?” Then I think, “HMMM….I could live for another 50 years. Do I really want to go 50 years without sex?” No. No. No, no no no. No, I don’t. Not this girl.

But, god, getting your mojo back is tough! I was pregnant or breastfeeding from 2009-2013. I had a nervous breakdown in 2014. My 2 year old still considers it her job to make sure that we get as little sleep as possible and still fetch her sippy cups of milk. I’ve gained and lost and gained and lost 30 pounds over two pregnancies and frankly, so has my wife. We’re a mess. I don’t think I’m attractive and she doesn’t think she’s attractive and it’s hard for us to imagine that either one of us find the other attractive, even if we do. At the end of most days, once we’ve fed everyone, cleaned up, gotten the girls to bed (fingers crossed!), folded the laundry, and done the dinner dishes, I am perfectly happy to collapse on the couch in my sweatpants and watch The West Wing. So is my wife. Aren’t you?