Tweet We love sex. On the hood of the car in the pouring rain; at my writing desk under the threat of deadlines; or in the shower just before breakfast — we cannot keep our hands off of each other or our lips. Marriage did not prove to be the proverbial nail in the coffin for our libidos as it did for some of our friends. In fact, marriage made us more adventurous and open. He could now trust me to handcuff him without worrying that I might make off with his wallet.
I could now wear the stiff, sticky barely edible lingerie and laugh with him at the absurdity of the moment. It was birth control at its best. Within our first year of marriage, the fabled stork paid us a visit. Almost twelve months to the day, another bundle of joy arrived. My body did not bounce back as quickly the second time around.
Vaginal dryness coupled with the normal wear and tear of childbirth made sex unbearable. I would wince whenever I felt his shaft hammering against my tender walls. It also took longer for me to reach climax and this left me moody, and ill tempered. Our ability to communicate openly about sex became invaluable. Only now, the discussions were not about what we wanted to try next. Our conversations were centered on what we needed in order to reconnect physically.
We soon hit the keyboard to meet with Dr. We found that we were not alone. Estrogen levels are low following childbirth and this normally causes dryness. The decrease in hormone levels can also cause your vaginal tissue to become very thin and easily irritated or lacerated. Armed with a cache of lubricant and a post-partum Gregory Isaacs playlist we were ready! But just as we finally reach the rhythm of our mutual satisfaction — it came. The pitter patter of terror on two tiny feet echoed across the tile.
And tell her what? It would be the first of many vexing interruptions. She soon took to sleeping in our bed, between us and sideways. Any attempts to slip away were met with cries of aching gums, runny diapers, and cries just for the sake of crying.
There was little time to breathe, let alone to feel sexy. We were frustrated and took any opportunity to vent. I wrote, painted, and baked. And when I say baked, I mean glorious three-tiered, dark chocolate confections from scratch. The pregnancy weight returned, only this time we both looked pregnant! He would yell, I would scream back. We were losing more than the sex battle. We were losing each other.
Kriedman believes that parents should be lovers, as well as partners in child rearing. Her advice was open ended enough that we could tailor it to fit our needs. Instead of trying to find sitters, we scheduled movie nights once a week. Our affair included naughty text messages that would make Mr. Household maintenance became our best friend.
A mysterious missing washer in the kitchen sink, or a leaky showerhead proved to be the perfect cover for a ten-minute quickie. Sexy was finally back! As our children mature, we find that our ideas of sexy also mature. There is nothing sexier than watching my husband comfort a tiny person with snat dangling from her chin.
Or the sight of his puzzled face, as he wrestles with ponytail holders that are too small for his thick man hands to manipulate. The new sexy for him is coming home to a flour-covered family attempting to make roti. Or the sight of his exhausted wife passed out on the couch, with sweetly sleeping toddlers in her arms. Our marriage is defined by so much more than just the quantity, quality, or the mere act of sex. Sometimes parents grow up too. And so at dinner we pass macaroni pie, innuendo and Oreo cheesecake.
We make the meal last for eternity. I slurp mauby through a straw with pouty duck lips, until my cheeks cave in. He licks fresh, juicy pineapple from the corners of his full lips. We lip smack dessert spoons clean with sexual promises that will most likely never be fulfilled. We eye bang each other from across the table hard enough to nail one another against the vegetable splattered wall. And then we laugh at the absurdity of the moment.