If reading about S-E-X makes you uncomfortable just enjoy this lovely picture. Spring keeps sneaking in for a day here and there; this morning I took advantage of it.

There is an epidemic going on around me. Left and right families are falling apart. Some just had a baby, others are a few years and [...]]]>

If reading about S-E-X makes you uncomfortable just enjoy this lovely picture. Spring keeps sneaking in for a day here and there; this morning I took advantage of it.

There is an epidemic going on around me. Left and right families are falling apart. Some just had a baby, others are a few years and a few kids in. One thing they all seem to have in common is a lack of intimacy in their marriages which lead to growing apart when things got tough, rather then riding it out together.

I know you are tired (we all are) and your husband / partner knows you are tired too but sex/intimacy is important. I propose that it is just important to a healthy relationship as breathing is to life. I know that sounds all DRAMA!!! but I think it’s true.

Looking back over the last 10 years of our relationship our toughest times have been our driest. One would think that things were dry because we were stressed so thus things were tough but in thinking, we have been through tougher times then those with less stress and more grace- the reason?? Sex.

Even in those really tough times- like when my husbands job cut him down to 20 hours a week, I was 8 months pregnant, his grandfather (whom he was very close to died) and we were not sure how we were going to pay our house note or even buy food, we managed to cling together and weather the storm with little disruption to our relationship because we were connecting on a regular basis.

I see a lot of you are having trouble transitioning with your partner into parenthood. There is fighting, sore feelings, loneliness and general discord going on and my best advice to you is that even though you are a mom (or dad) now you are also STILL YOU. And you deserve to feel sexy, you deserve to feel connected and so does your partner. It’s very easy to get wrapped up in the needs of the baby and to get to a place where you feel “touched out” where you are just D O N E and cant imagine anyone wanting anything else from you. HOWEVER, you can’t look at intimacy as one more chore, one more thing to drain you. I think a lot of women need to change their idea of intimacy. I think that it is far more essential then mopping the floor (and a heck of a lot more fun too).

It’s a rare person who can tell me that they don’t have time for it and actually be right. I HAVE 5 KIDS! Last year when I only had 4, I was also working. One of my kids is special needs, Bo is like 6 kids all slammed into one mischievous whirling dervish and let’s not forgot that Saffi has been colicky. But I make time.

I make time because Ive noticed when it’s been more then 4 days, we start picking on each other. If it gets to 5 or 6 days, I find myself looking for things to be mad at him about and if I can’t find an obvious one, sometimes I even make one up! I make time because my husband is more willing to help out around the house, he’s happier, and he thinks about me more. I make time because when he’s happier, I’m happier and thus our kids are happier.

I make more time because over the years I’ve found that kissing, groping, sex, dirty talk, oral sex, etc have made my life more enjoyable. I love feeling like my husband desires me (even though I have a stomach flap, thunder thighs, varicose veins, saggy boobs, blah blah blah). I love that he calls me in the middle of the day to tell me he had fun the night before and can’t stop thinking about me. I love that he grabs my butt when passing by or whispers something naughty in my ear. I love that this all makes me feel like more then just the local dairy farm / dumpy house frou.

Now the making time part, how?

It doesn’t take that much time, no really. It honestly doesn’t have to be an epic house rocking, mind blowing, earth shattering experience every.single.time. I cook dinner every night but not 7 courses- sometimes you just need to eat *wink*

10 minutes

Now I’m not talking about having to turn your partner into a minute man but rather recognizing that even 10 minutes of fun can relieve stress and give you a chance to reconnect. That’s it, it’s all you need. It’s less time then most meals take to prepare and losing those 10 minutes of sleep is not going to break your day (but it just might make it).

You can find 10 minutes while the baby naps, or just as you climb into bed. You can hop on your hubs when the alarm goes off- just hit the snooze button and enjoy.

If you find yourself thinking, ugh I have to go have sex think instead WOOHOO! It’s time to go jump my hubs! If you think gah this is just one more bloody thing for me to do, instead think SCREW THE LAUNDRY, I’m gonna go screw my husband! Laundry will wait, the floor can be dirty for 10 more minutes. Facebook, Twitter, your blog, your fans, your friends can all wait for 10 more minutes, your relationship is worth it.

And if you read all this and still think I’m just an oversexed nutter, then you’ll really think I’m crazy now. I’m challenging you all to spend at least 10 minutes a day on intimacy and pleasure- every.single.day. for the next 2 weeks. In those 10 minutes you cant think about what else you should or could be doing. Force your mind to go blank or repeat a phrase in your mind about what you are doing to force your mind to blank out those other things

“im having sex, im having sex, i’m having sex” or “**** my **** feels good” you get the idea

10 minute quickies, hand jobs, oral, making out, groping, rubbing are all acceptable. If you and your partner are apart, trying spending 10 minutes a day giving yourself a quicky, fantasizing, or sexting your partner

every day for the next two weeks, AT LEAST 10 minutes a day

Ok, I’m climbing down off my soap box and back up onto my hubs.

Friday was a dreary drippy gray day desperately in need of some cheer. Now, I could have scrubbed and scoured my blues away but why do something actually productive? No, I decided that taking care of a colicky baby and 4 other kids all day was just getting too easy and that productivity is for [...]]]>

Friday was a dreary drippy gray day desperately in need of some cheer. Now, I could have scrubbed and scoured my blues away but why do something actually productive? No, I decided that taking care of a colicky baby and 4 other kids all day was just getting too easy and that productivity is for the bland. Instead I rolled up my sleeves, boiled some sugar and made a massive mess trying my hand at this recipe.

Lollies:

canola oil
2 cups sugar
2/3 cup corn syrup
2/3 cup water
1/2 teaspoon orange extract
food coloring

lollipop sticks (I cheated and use brownie pop sticks that I found at Target)
cookie sheets / jelly roll pans
candy thermometer
sauce pot
bowls
spoons

Lightly oil up some cookie sheets and place lollie sticks about 2 inches apart. Put the sugar, corn syrup and water into a pot and bring to a boil over high heat (do not stir it, just let it go). Keep an eye on the mixture, you want it to get to 305 degrees. While it’s cooking, you’ll need to do a few things:

1. warm up the bowls and spoons you are dividing your syrup into. If the bowls and spoons are cool, the mixture will harden prematurely leaving you lollipop less and stuck with levitating spoons

2. set up an ice bath for your pot. I used a stainless steel bowl filled with ice and water.

Once the sugar mixture has reached 305 degrees, remove it from the burner, dip the bottom of your pot into the ice bath for about 10 seconds (trust me, that’s it), and stir in the orange extract .

Immediately divide the syrup into bowls and squeeze a few drops off food coloring into each bowl and use the warmed spoons to stir in the color. Working quickly, free form pour the syrup over the end of the lollie sticks. You can layer colors one on top of another and even drop small candies or sprinkles into the still hot lollies. Allow to cool and then enjoy!

To make shaped lollies (I stumbled on to this quite accidentally due to using COLD SPOONS to mix my syrup): allow the syrup to cool a bit and once it’s still hot but not peel your skin off your hands hot, grab a blob, roll it in your palms, shape as desired and cram a stick into it. I then flattened my shapes and laid them on the oiled cookie sheets to cool. I tried using fondant cutters to shape my lollies but that was an utter FAIL. The hand shaping worked much better.

If you are totally insane, you can do this project with your kids. I did this alone because I always burn myself when I boil sugar, I couldn’t imagine giving my kids a bowl of molten liquid sugar and have it end happily.

These taste great and make for fabulous photography props

Doooooooood, that totally sucks! What are you going to do?

I have to buy a new one, I can’t live without the internet

Yeah, I’d pretty much shrivel up and die without it.

I think this time [...]]]> Then it started making this whirring noise and a POP POP! sound. The screen flickered and then it just died.

Shit, I spend too much time on facebook.

The rest of you curious and brave souls can go ahead and click through

The other day, I read this absolutely cringe-worthy story on MomLogic

One night, I took a look down there, and it was like my [...]]]> If you aren’t into reading a-whole-lotta beaver focused TMI, just admire this lovely picture of Saffi at 23 days old

The rest of you curious and brave souls can go ahead and click through

The other day, I read this absolutely cringe-worthy story on MomLogic

One night, I took a look down there, and it was like my insides were on the outside and they were coming out. I knew I couldn’t put this off any longer. I went to my doctor and said, “My vagina is falling out of my body!”

I was referred to a pelvic floor specialist. She took a look and said, “Holy crap — your vagina is falling out of your body, and it’s dragging your bladder and your rectum along with it!”

*Squeezes thighs together and prays*

After foaming at the mouth with fear, blacking out and eventually coming to, I decided that steps must be taken to avoid this EVER happening to me- she only had two kids, I have FIVE and a crappy track record when it comes to my parts staying where they should.

First, I thought about getting a book with some simple exercises to, uh, help the situation but after further reading, I determined that more, uh, help might be needed. My OB/GYN office offers scripts for some apparatus (not covered by insurance) which is around $300. PASS. So, I did some more Googling and ended up ordering this crazy apparatus that might end up pinching my inner girl parts but in a few months I’ll be able to use my lady clam to crack walnuts, dammit.. But of course, not before I consulted Twitter about whether I wanted BenWa Balls
or the vajayjay vice grips, which inevitably lead to wholly inappropriate comments on my part- Oh Hai Worldz, that’s forever Google-able now. And, since that is forever out there in cyberspace, for some most likely sleep deprivation driven reason, I’m telling you all about my harebrained plan to ensure that my woman parts remain where they belong and apparently this lovely apparatus, if properly used, will keep me from pissing myself too because at any point after having children, even the strongest among us know, that sometimes a sneeze is NOT just a sneeze.

And we have neighbors, ones who hate chickens and really hate chickens that crow. These neighbors have guns and wild packs of flesh eating dogs and did I mention the guns? Cause they have them. They might even have Zombies at their disposal, I’m not sure. The guns and [...]]]> Pepe has, as predicted, started crowing.

And we have neighbors, ones who hate chickens and really hate chickens that crow. These neighbors have guns and wild packs of flesh eating dogs and did I mention the guns? Cause they have them. They might even have Zombies at their disposal, I’m not sure. The guns and wild packs of flesh eating dogs have kept us from growing closer over the years.

Since I’m not interested in the angry neighbor’s Zombie minions showing up with guns in hand backed by a pack of wild flesh eating dogs (which will surely poop all over my driveway because apparently they LIKE pooping on concrete and their owners think it’s perfectly reasonable to LEAVE IT on the sidewalk right where my daughter has to stand to wait for the bus so why would their zombies think any different?), Pepe is being rehomed.

Upon hearing the news, Pepe was all “You can’t do this to me”

and I was all “Dude, ZOMBIES”

and Pepe was all

STOP THE WHISTLING!

WHO is doing that?

I thought I asked you to knock that off?

and finally

Stop [...]]]> It took me a few days to figure it out. I kept blaming the incessant whistling on my older two. Completely convinced was I that these two had devised a plot to make me insane with random bouts of whistling.

STOP THE WHISTLING!

WHO is doing that?

I thought I asked you to knock that off?

and finally

Stop the whistling right NOW, NOW NOW do you hear me? NOW I say! The next person to whistle is NEVER eating ice cream EVER NEVER EVER AGAIN- Do you hear me?

(in my head there was a LOT of cussing accompanying that outburst)

and yet, while my girls stared at me in wide eyed terror, a small lilting whistle rose up in that air thick with unsaid cuss words and the last shreds of my spring break broken sanity.

My right eye began to twitch, this was clearly not going in my favor. My upper lip began to sweat a bit and I was thinking that I would have to follow though with this entirely insane and arbitrary punishment that I shouted out in a fit of over the edge irritation.

Then, I felt two tiny hands patting my knees and my stress level instantly receded, I bent down to swoop Bo up into my arms and found myself eye to perfectly pursed lips- Bo’s perfectly pursed lips- and from them that ragged lilting whistle that had been dogging me for days, danced on.

What could I do but laugh?

I guess when you are kid number four, you’ve got to come up with some pretty slick tricks to grab everyone’s attention.