A quasi-comprehensive guide to sex after kids

This past week, I realized that my sex drive has become that of a shriveled potato sitting in a dank room. Probably because

A- I’m still nursing a toddler
B- a five pound human is wedged in my pelvis due for eviction this month
C- there’s so much crap that needs done, and my bedroom looks like the remains of a Black Friday sale at Target

Wait…what does C have to do with anything? I’ll put it this way. Damon could be giving me the look and suggesting the lovely lovelies, and I’m all “Dude!! HOW ARE YOU NOT AWARE OF THE CONDITIONS AROUND YOU?!”

Yes yes yes…I know..I could use a blindfold. Or something. I wish I were feeling that adventurous. But see the three points listed at the top. I get it. Some women want sex like a rabbit on a testosterone-fueled diet. Some pregnant women are ferocious sex panthers who demand sweet loving instead of ice cream, or scream for you to drop your pants the moment you walk through the door . If you’re one of those women, then cool! I’m totally jealous. Poor Damon is not married to one of those women. I may or may not have eaten a pint of Rocky Road for breakfast….crying on my yoga ball.

When we first got married, I was a fiery ball of hormones; mostly the really good kind. Two months in, I decided to start birth control…which dropped its pants and crapped all over my sex drive. Seriously. Not everyone has such a crappy reaction. But I haven’t been the same since. Having a baby did not help at all. Obviously, I looooove my babies. Family and babies are why I breathe. But good hell, it took a toll on the horny chick who I used to be.

When dudes becomes dads, they do experience a drop in testosterone for awhile. Kinda needed since you can’t have aggressive males around new babies. But overall, Damon remains a manly man. His physiology did not radically change as a result of becoming a parent. He is not biologically programmed to notice the massive piles of laundry, garbage overflowing, toddler screaming, or phone vibrating with complaining texts from disgruntled family members. When sex is on his brain, it’s a laser-focused effort. Everything else poofs into thin air. Someone could literally be burglarizing the house, emptying the contents of the closet, and his gaze wouldn’t waver an inch.

This is somewhat fortuitous news for me. He doesn’t notice the double chin that I get when not sticking out my neck like a tortoise. He doesn’t see the cellulite accumulated from months of quasi-justified eclair binges. My hulking frame doesn’t intimidate him, like it would any human being with blood flowing to their brain instead of……Mom and Dad can stop reading.

I realized that the sexiest thing that I can think of isn’t Damon taking me gently on a bed of roses following a candlelit dinner where we stare into each other’s eyes, rekindling the lost romance of our teenage years.

My sexiest fantasy would be him shirtless, freshly showered with teeth brushed, wearing a pink apron, washing and putting away the piles of laundry, folding our son’s onesies, taking out the trash, sweeping the room, changing the sheets, sorting all the effing important papers that somehow crawl out of the cracks, bringing me a Gotta Have It Birthday Cake Remix from Coldstone, snuggling our toddler, massaging my calves, then getting the ef out so that I can take a nap.

No. This does not seamlessly transition into a domestic porno. That’s seriously it right now. Our son kicks anytime there’s lots of movement…..awkward. Great way to take The Buzz and shoot it in the face. All that stuff listed is hot though…Waaaaaaaaay hot! Anything that removes things from my to-do list lights my fire. I’m reeeeally hoping that my thirties or forties will revive my seemingly comatose hormones, when I don’t constantly have a baby in my womb or on my boob. Oh yeah…boobs are off-limits too. I hiss like a Salem’s Lot vampire if he even looks in their general direction. Sorry, dude!

Something tells me that I’m not alone here though. I remember reading through the responses on a mom blog in which someone posed the question “How often do you and your significant other have sex and for how long?” I scrolled through the responses with eyes bulging from their effing sockets. Responses like “6 times a week, sometimes twice a day. Like 4 hours each time” and “We’re down to twice a day! We used to do it like 5 times!:((” and “Probably 5 times a week;)” caused me a feeling of utter exhaustion and disbelief. Just what?! TWICE A DAY?!!! EVERY DAY?! DO YOU SLEEP OR WORK A JOB OR CLEAN THE TOILET?! IS YOUR CHILD’S SLEEP SCHEDULE SYNCHRONIZED WITH HIS ERECTION?!!!! WHO THE F*CK MAKES DINNER?! HOW!!!?

A handful of semi-believable responses were peppered here and there with “Umm…like once a week.” or “Three times a month” or “Sometimes, we get to do it for like 10 minutes before the baby wakes up”. And a few other responses that made me go “Yerp. Purdy much.”

Some women show up at their 6 week postpartum visit and find out that they’re pregnant. I have no clue how that’s effing possible. Just thinking about any penile contact during that time period made me want to run screaming. Or for the first few months where I mentally swore to never bear another child unless by C-section due to my maimed lady parts, having needles touch where needles should never be, and the mental state of a paranoid honey badger.

Maybe the people with seemingly outrageous sex drives have older children. Maybe they “make sex a priority” or “put each other above all else” or do their laundry in a timely manner and communicate or some shiz like that. Maybe some other people are just better at marriage than I am. Maybe some people can actually manage their lives. Or parent their small child in such a way that allows them to engage in wild sex five times a week. Probably one of those. Maybe I’m the exception……but I kinda doubt it.

I know. I’m normally a bubbly fountain of wisdom with things maternal and marital…bwuahahaha. God help the soul who listens to my advice. Sex after having a kid? I wish that I could tell you that everything is normal and great and ladeedaaaah. And one day, maybe it will be. Maybe one day, my hormones and shiz will align to give me back my sexy self. For now, we’re both just trying not to drown. We’ll hold onto each other for dear life.

We still let each other know that we’re the center of the family. We still kiss. We still snuggle when Haven isn’t bulldozing her way between us. We still hug. We still show affection. And sometimes, we still have sex……..just not effing six times a week. Jeeeeez. I need a nap after typing that. Go write your own blog if you can manage that while having small children. I’ll be your first subscriber…even if I think you’re full of it.

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A quasi-comprehensive guide to sex after kids

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