Tag Archives: sex

Fast enough so you can fly away…

Allow me to set the scene.

I was still wearing my velour sweatsuit as I sauntered past his side of the bed. Sometimes I like to amp up the funny before I bring the dead sexy. Funny goes a long way in our house.

There was a successful transfer of the baby in to the bed. She was out like a light. I woke him from the couch and he smiled. All signs pointed to Sexy Town. I had my fingers crossed and my knees, well, uncrossed. He was sitting up in bed when he asked me to grab the cord for his phone.

So, I was sauntering past the bed getting ready to bend over in my velour sweatsuit all Jessica Rabbit like when he said “You’re leaking.” I looked down at my shirt for the tell-tale spot of milk. I grabbed my chest the way only a nursing mother can. I wasn’t wet. “This?” I said, pointing at a spot on my shirt. “Nah, that’s old.”

While I was busy giving myself a breast exam he bent down and grabbed his own phone cord.

“You ruined it,” I said. “I was gonna bend down and get it for you.” I was smiling. But I might have been starting to pout. We had already turned down a street that didn’t head to SexyTown. Might as well pout.

Incredulously he smiled back at me. “I ruined it? You! Talking about your OLD stain! That ruined it!!” By now I had snuggled up against him on the side of the bed. Between the two of us we had about a foot and a half. Lucy and the dog took up all the rest of the room. And like kids we started to laugh. I kept trying to get the words “you mean this old stain?” out of my mouth in feigned breathy sexiness but I couldn’t do it through the giggles. The more I tried to stop the laughter the funnier it was.

The Internet is abuzz this week with breastfeeding pictures. Should we post them on Facebook? Should we nurse in public? Or is it a private thing? You can guess how I feel about nursing a baby in public. Feed your babies, ladies. Cover up or don’t.  Just feed your babies.  Anywhere you want, preferably before they are super mad. I find hungry, crying babies really troublesome, a little exposed boob here and there, not so much.

But I can tell you where breastfeeding doesn’t belong. It doesn’t belong in my bedroom while I am in a fast car on the road to SexyTown. Because evidently “old stains” can send that car careening towards Laughter and there is no turning that car around. (Note: you need to say “old stains” with your hands up making the “I  don’t know what all the ruckus is about” face for the full effect.)

This post is dedicated to the fools that think nursing a baby in public is disgusting and attention seeking.  I will give you disgusting and attention seeking, how about this wet tshirt contest winning picture? And to the new mothers that think they will never, ever get to SexyTown again.  You will.  I promise.  It seems like you won’t.  But keep visiting that little village called Laughter, it will carry you and your marriage right on through.

Ain’t Gonna Bump No more

With all the excitement around moving and the house and Em’s new school I realized that I haven’t documented the “bump” all that well.  In fact, I am not even sure where either camera is located at the moment.  Iphone pic it will be.

This morning I extended my arm as far as I could and gave it my all.  Determined to get a new picture of the bump.

I turned my phone back around to see the image and gasped.  That was no bump.

Maybe some women might take this giganticness as a sign.  Probably ought to get things in order at work.  Maybe wrap my mind around the actual day to day of having a real live baby.  Looks to me, in my totally unprofessional opinion, like I might have a baby in the next couple of months.

But not me.  That’s not what I thought.   “Holy shit.  I need to get laid pronto.  That window is closing rapidly.  This is gonna get comical. Quickly.”

And where the not-pregnant massively body conscious Kelly might have started a downward spiral of insecurity, pregnant Kelly just started to laugh.  I thought to myself, “Let’s hope MQD doesn’t try and pass me off to Leroy.”

I ain’t gonna bump no more with no big fat woman
Somebody take her, I don’t want her
She done hurt my hip, she done knocked me down…
Say, Leroy, you can have this one, dude

Lord, I ain’t gonna bump no more with no big fat woman…

Lucky for me I don’t think MQD has seen a single episode of Soul Train.

Just like Rock Hudson and Doris Day

I was reading back through some of my gloomiest posts and it is interesting (perhaps only to me) to note that even though I am pregnant it seems I am down and blue damn near once ever 28 days.  And if my “woe is me” can be tied to some kind of hormonal cycle than so can the rest of my hormone inspired thoughts and desires, right?  Consequently making them a product of my chemical make up, fair game for discussion.

I am a firm believer that a romantic relationship with the person who is truly in your heart of hearts your best friend is a good idea.  But you have to do the work to make sure that your romantic partner is equal parts best friend and  lover, or you slide in to that scary territory of living with a roommate.  There are lots of ways to accomplish this, I think.  Lots of complicated, time consuming ways.  Sexy posing on the bed in the “good” nightgown, not the 15 year old band t-shirt.  Try not to bitch and moan about finances and cook a decent meal.  Don’t change in to sweatpants as soon as you walk in the door.  Shower with the door closed and shave your legs in private and maintain some kind of… what do they call that? mystery?  Make an effort to make absolutely zero jokes related to bodily functions.  But all of these ways rely on another party noticing you sending out these signals. Continue reading