Troubles and Treats

Let’s see them make fun of Drew now. My husband is a giant man-child, but sometimes he does sweet, unexpected things. It’s been awhile since he’s done them but this makes up for it.

I stare at Liz expectantly, waiting for her to apologize for being rude.

“Hold on a second. I need a minute,” Liz says as she grabs Claire’s elbow and turns so that they both face away from me.

I roll my eyes at their backs.

“It’s not working. I can see your shoulders shaking. I know you guys are laughing.”

The girls compose themselves and turn back around, trying to keep straight faces.

“So, you guys didn’t have sex last night?” Liz questions in confusion.

“No! I told you, I was tired and then Billy woke up when I got home. But oh my God, that rocker was THE BEST! He went right back to sleep, and I actually fell asleep in it too. Now I know why you never told me about it when the girls were babies. You were afraid I’d try and steal it from you. No wonder they were such good little sleepers.”

Liz nods her head and closes her eyes, holding one hand up in the air as if to say, “STOP!”

“Sorry, I think I need another minute,” she says before mimicking Claire’s earlier pose and bending over at the waist to guffaw at the ground.

“What the hell?” I yell.

“I think what Liz is trying to say is that you rocked your baby to sleep in a SEX swing,” Claire says with a giggle.

I stare at her blankly.

“A. SEX. SWING. From the Latin words, ‘you are supposed to f**k in it, not rock your kid to sleep’,” Claire states.

“What she said!” Liz laughs as she stands back up and then covers her eyes with her hands. “Oh highway to heaven, I can’t even look at you right now!”

Oh. My. God.

“I rocked my son to sleep in something that people bang in?” I whisper in a horrified voice.

“Well, yes. That’s why it’s called a sex swing,” Claire offers.

“Did you actually put your thighs in the stirrups?” Liz laughs.

“Stirrups? Oh my God. I used those to hold the extra bottles,” I complain.

“Oh God, here we go again!” Claire says, bending over and laughing so hard she starts dry heaving. “I’M GOING TO PUKE!” she yells in between heave-laughs.

“I hate both of you. You are both jerks.”

I feel awful. Not just because my friends are jerks, but because my husband had tried to do something kinky and fun and I ruined it.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I used to be fun and outgoing and kinky as hell. Me, of all people, should know what a sex swing is. I had made a mold of my vagina and gave it to Drew on one of our anniversaries for God’s sake. We had even made an amateur sex video and submitted it to YouPorn. Without our faces of course. There are certain things my grandma should never see. Although why my grandmother would be on YouPorn when she’s clearly over the age of legally having sex is beyond me. Isn’t seventy when they say you have to pass a test to keep having sex? Or maybe that’s for your driver’s license. No, I’m pretty sure it’s for sex. Regardless, a sex swing is something I should have first-hand knowledge of.

Stuff like this has been happening more and more lately, Drew attempting to spark something between us, and me not knowing what to do or having no interest in it. My friends have the most perfect marriages and sex lives, and they were able to raise their kids while doing it. Drew and I had managed to do pretty well after Veronica was born a little over three years ago. Our marriage strengthened and we had sex all the time. As soon as I got pregnant with Billy, though, everything stopped. Suddenly, I had to juggle a toddler in potty training hell with a pregnancy that kept me puking almost the entire time and a full time job.

It’s not that I don’t want my husband or don’t love him, sleep just takes priority. Even though the job is flexible, there's still a lot of work that needs to be done. Not to mention the fact that Drew works the night shift, and I'm stuck doing most things alone in the evening.

I never used to have any trouble getting up at four in the morning when he had come home from work for a quickie. I loved having sex with him while I was half asleep and still warm from being under the covers half the night. The first time he tried it after I found out I was pregnant with Billy, I told him if he brought his penis anywhere near me, I would tell all his friends about how he wore my silk thongs to work because he liked how they slid through the crack of his ass when he bent over. Any time after that when, he would get his penis within five feet of me, I would run to the bathroom and throw up. I was pretty sure he took defense to that. It wasn't my fault the sight of his penis made me sick to my stomach. He has a very pretty penis, actually, and I even drew a picture of it once. There had just been something about how it looked like a jellyfish with one eye that made me queasy. Once Billy was born, I had just been too exhausted to even think about sex.

Our son STILL doesn’t sleep through the night. Right now, I just want a full night of sleep more than I want sex. Okay, I'll take that back. I do want sex. Just not at appropriate times. Every time I want it, Drew’s either sleeping or he’s at work. It never happens when we’re in the same room together. I can’t even masturbate right anymore. The last time I tried, I fell asleep with my vibrator in my hand. While it was still running.

Drew had come home from work and found me sprawled out in bed with my arm flung off the side, clutching a big pink vibrator that was slowly losing juice. Instead of sounding like wirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, it sounded more like, wirr-rrr-wirrrr-r……rr. I couldn’t help that the vibrations lulled me to sleep. Now I knew why babies loved their vibrating bouncy seats. Drew got excited when I loaded up on double-A batteries at the grocery store that week, and I made sure my nightstand was fully stocked with them. I was pretty sure I could hear him weeping in the bathroom when he found out I just needed them so I could stick my vibrator under the mattress to help me fall asleep faster. At least I thought he was weeping. He had made some really funny sounds and when I had knocked on the bathroom door, he said he was busy reading.