This post is brought to you by the letters M and S. Please turn your underage eyes away.
It seems odd to me that "pregnant" and "mommy" go hand-in-hand with "sexless." Funny, because that isn't quite how MY "birds and the bees" talk from Mommy and Daddy went. Granted, the talk was mostly given by Daddy, which is totally not awkward, but that's only because Mommy was never very good at delivering Important Talks in English, which meant that I could only understand about half of what she said in Korean. Take, for example, menstruating. I did understand that I was going to bleed a lot and it was going to happen a lot and I was going to bleed from down there, oh my sweet baby Moses, and that someday bleeding would given me children and maybe I was going to die. Except she didn't say the dying part; I figured that one out on my own by listening between the lines. Oh, and I didn't quite understand why my brother couldn't bleed from down there either. But eventually I figured it all out. Eventually.
But nobody cares about my morbid fascination with Them Times Aunt Flo Comes to Visit, or the fact that I was convinced that bleeding meant I was pregnant, at one point -- or that I was convinced I was dying, like many little girls believe -- or that I thought that if I could just get my uterus cut out of me, my life would be better. Or that I was then introduced to the concept of menopause. Like I wasn't having a hard enough time figuring this shit out.
More importantly. Sex. No, seriously. I was fully and properly grossed out by the fact that I wasn't delivered by a stork (I still maintain that I was), or appeared one day beneath a cabbage leaf, or popped out of a pretty flower like Thumbelina. I'd already figured out the flower thing -- for one, Thumbelina was way smaller than I was, and for two, I'd never seen a flower big enough to hold my head, much less the rest of my body -- but I still vastly preferred that idea to the idea of Mommy and Daddy doing the nasty. There was that one time I opened the door at an inconvenient time, but I'd blocked that whole thing out. Kay? Never. Happened.
So yes. Mommy and Daddy were Mommy and Daddy, but Mommy and Daddy had sex. Possibly a lot. And Daddy liked to blow Mommy kisses. Gross, but obviously a fact of life. For a couple years I would look at my friends' parents and think, "Ewww, they had sex." Then I realized that was also gross and I blocked it all out of my mind.
Obviously, I dislike the idea of thinking about mommies and sex. Specifically, my mommy and sex. Or my friends' mommies and sex. However, I've known since That Discussion About the Birds and the Bees That Totally Wasn't Awkwardly Delivered by my Daddy that mommies and daddies do have sex, and I didn't invent the idea of having sex. (Damn it.) And yes, I was one of those obnoxious children -- getting between Mommy and Daddy when they dared to hold hands in front of me, gagged when they blew kisses/were sappy together, rolled my eyes every time my dad tried to shake his booty for my mama -- and tried as hard as I could to bury my head in the sand, but I always knew -- mommies had sex. Mommies had to have sex, because otherwise they couldn't be mommies. Unless they adopted. Then they were mommies sexlessly. What the fuck. I never considered the adoption angle. I could so be adopted. Then Mommy wouldn't have sex. Interesting.
The point here is that mommies and sex go together (most of the time). Mommies and no sex at all is like a fairy tale -- you grow up and you find out it isn't real. So why, oh why, does Society frown upon mommies who have sex -- and blatantly point out how much they like it?
Quite frankly, people: I love sex. I adore sex. It's infinitely frustrating because, ever since we got pregnant, Husband and I have been having issues with doing our typical marathon sex runs. Either I'm just not able to lube it lube it naturally (in which case, hey! Look! A nifty bottle of lubeyness!), or he lasts approximately 5-10 minutes, which is far from the 45+ minutes that I'm used to and need. And, unfortunately, we can't have sex every 6 hours like we used to. (Mostly because we work, but also because of the fact that Husband's dear little friend (DLF) is having some issues with chafing and not healing because we have no discipline at all when it comes to bedroom antics.) And you know what? When we conceived, it was probably amazing sex too. So there.
I'm a mommy. I also like sex. I'm a wife, a lover, a best friend, a maid (?!), and my husband's conscience -- all of that adds up to sex, as far as I can see. Wife? Sex. Lover? Sex. Best friend? Occasionally awkward sex, but only if it applies to a FWB situation, not "Wife" and "Lover" as mentioned previously. Maid? Totally sex. In uniform. Possibly with a little roleplaying. Not that we've tried that yet (hint, hint, husband dearest). And conscience? Definitely sex. Because I'm the one that wears red horns and a little tail too.
Sex sex sex sex sex.
Judge me if you will, but I'm damn proud of it!
Unless you're my mother. Or my father. In which case oh God, Mom, I don't know who hacked into my blog and wrote that terrible slander.
P.S. I forgot my husband was going to read this. I'd like to say that even if it's sometimes only 5-10 minutes, it's a really good 5-10 minutes. *heart?*