Archive for the 'Sexual' Category
Well, not that I remember.
Homeward now and further reflections on the power of BlogHer. Not the sessions, or the classes, but the force and passion of women in a room together chatting about the world.
But it wasn’t without it’s moments — this gathering. The conversation/debate about whether the “momosphere” is cliquey — the hurt feelings the somewhat heated discussions — did raise some crucial issues. There is clearly a hierarchy to the mommy blogosphere — a slumber-party funniness replete with talent and longevity (most of these sweeties have been blogging for around 2 years — which is like 15 in blog years) that is totally deserved, but honestly can be somewhat intimidating.
But to get caught up in that is missing the whole point. Truthfully, I like to believe there is enough room for plenty more writers ….an endless supply of room, and air, and so many important stories we all, YOU, need to share.
Attending BlogHer made me so grateful, to the women writers I read, who help me every day, grapple with the loud small people, laugh at the total oddness of the human condition. This laughter and storytelling is creating paradigmatic shift in politics, activism, self-expression… of this I’m convinced.
Even poor conference attendees like me (giggling away in the back with these two) could feel the simmering revolution.
What revolution?
Oh. And, I’m starting a Lisa Stone Fanclub (she’s one of the founders of BlogHer and is gorgeous and smart and I want to be her in my next life, rather than the beetle they have me scheduled to become, those karma rats).
Laid.
Gettling laid? No? Yes? Come on, you can trust me, I won’t tell a soul. I’ll just write up a little something. It won’t hurt a bit. But let me tell you, parents writing and thinking about sex is a good thing (especially if the writing and the thinking don’t replace the doing. What?)
Mitch McDad’s counting the days, and ways, and debating vibrators, Redneck Mommy is fornicating with her husband and making you laugh your puritan off while she does it, Emma (as per usual) is encouraging afternoon delight (WTF? Who has time for an afternoon pedicure?), and don’t forget to check out Kristen’s excellent Mominatrix over at Imperfect Parent. She’s writing all about it, baby.
For more fun with sex without actually having any, read on. Meanwhile, I’m not afraid of numbers, people. Did you know that some parents are having oodles of sex? I’m talking TWICE or THRICE each week. Imagine!!
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Speaking of numbers, did you know there are only another 3 weeks until Atlanta?? Until I get to see the Gold Lame Goddess of MILF-Land?
And I literally cannot wait!
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Karrie nominated me for Hottest Mommy Blog (Does that mean I’m pretty or that I write hot things? Hmmmmmm). If you vote, I’ll give you a kiss. With tongue.
At what point does experiencing all of life’s richness become over-consumption and greed? I’m always trying to figure out the line between living passionately and fully, and living selfishly. My inability to understand the concept of polyamory is one such example. Polyamory, quite literally the intimate love of more than one person at a time, isn’t widely discussed, except here, here, and here, especially not among respectable marrieds with children (among whose company I’m often somewhat mistakenly grouped), yet it’s an interesting concept.
Marriage and monogamy can obviously be dull, hence the 800 gazillion titles in every bookstore addressing these topics. While I agree that getting all of your needs fulfilled through one person is unrealistic and unfair, it is unclear that polyamory, swinging, or infidelity is a solution. Truthfully, I think free-flowing sexual expression isn’t a healthy solution to issues of boredom or even curiosity. People can hurt each other by going after the golden chalice of self-fulfillment.
But what about flirting? Is it ok to flirt as a way to keep things spicy and alive and to acknowledge that attraction to others is not only normal, but healthy? And when does flirtation stop being harmless and start being hurtful?
Most thinking adults with a dash of sleep deprivation, a house full of young children, and the right combination of lack of free time and extra poundage, would admit that life as a parent can be about as sexy vomit and the runs, but if life is truly only about self-expression, self-realization, and the ability to come clean about one’s deepest desires, what’s to keep us all from devolving into selfish hedonistic users?
Martin Buber’s famous treatise, I and Thou, lays out the great difference between treating another human being as the means to one’s pleasure fulfillment (It) versus treating others as spiritually worthy of our service and solicitude (Thou). American society is particularly enamored of the rugged individualist, who demands her/his needs be fulfilled, come hell or high water. And sex, such as it is, has just become another proving ground for this philosophy.
I am a high romantic with a low bawdy inner life. Emily Dickenson, Jane Austen and Neruda, and Yeats, and Frost, and Shakespearean Sonnets, run through my brain and heart, along with Susie Bright and the like.
As a flawed romantic, is there a place for me in this world? I often feel wholly unprepared and under-armored for the rough and tumble of love and relationships. And like most scared people, toughen up with armor and cynicism to get through. But when the shell breaks, and when another captures my poetic imagination, the depth of this longing for romantic fulfillment is hard to resist. Whether it can be healthily channeled (damn health!) is a matter for the Enacter.
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Meanwhile, I leave you with this lovely piece by Robert Frost. If ever there were a country and a time that required poetry, it is us and it is now.
And were an epitaph to be my story I’d have a short one ready for my own.
I would have written of me on my stone:
I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.
-Robert Frost
Got Monogamy?
Emma and I had our first radio show today The Hot Spot. Our topic was monogamy and we had loads of fun debating and discussing with the likes of Kevin, Paige, and Jay, the show will automatically start. Hang with it… we had some blips but most of the information is there:
Let’s continue the discussion. What do you think? How does monogamy work or not work in your life? How do you address issues that come up between yourself and your spouse on this topic?
Freud developed several well-known theories of the human psyche (penis envy among them) in the 1920s and 30s that remain quite relevant today. Assuming for a second that we, the parent types, strive to raise our children from the highest part of our psyches (the super-ego), might our occasional lack of passion in the sack be tied to our tendency to rightly ignore the id?
An example: Your sick child throws up on you. You don’t yell out “Hey sis, what’s UP with the barf?” although you may want to. You don’t smack her and scold her (if you do, you’ll end up on Parents Behaving Badly and no one wants that). You give her hugs, clean her off, and sing her a sweet song. You do the laundry. Finally bedtime rolls around and you, in all of your smelly sexiness, crawl into bed exhausted.
Does this seem like a scenario likely to render the bedroom a den of passionate iniquity?
If your bedroom is anything like mine, it’s more likely to be the repository for stacks of unfolded laundry with drawers brimming with dusty sex toys, than a fantasy boudoir.
And perhaps that’s the problem. Maybe we need to check our super-egos at the door and let our ids run buck wild.
I plan to do this… as soon as I fold the laundry.
Hot times, my friends. Hot. Times.
Pity Sex
I recently heard this term, which aptly describes my approach to "loving" of late. The clever Heidi Raykell describes it as "Real-dolling"… Get it? Doll? Made real?
Assuming one is at least somewhere deep down inside still a hottie mama, then what is a person to do to rekindle the desire to be a more active participant in one’s extracurr-lick-ular activities? One of my motivations for weaning V is the hope that it might spruce up my desire. Perhaps if I’m not handled and pulled and bitten — by my child, I might be more inclined to be handled and pulled and bitten — by my hubs.
I didn’t used to be this way. Far from it. I used to feel like an outlier in the world of women (during my first marriage, I even checked out a book once called "What to Do if He Has a Headache"), but now I’m apparently quite representative of the mainstream, which I absolutely despise just on principle.
There are many clever books and conversations to be had on reawakening desire.. and even some fabulous comments here at CrankMama awhile back on the topic.
But you know how when you feel like sh*t emotionally and someone says something cheerful and hoo hoo and you just want to hit them because you don’t want to be cheered up, you want someone to fix you?
That’s how I feel when I read and/or talk about the topic of desire-building. To me, re-igniting passion only works if one has the proper internal kindling.. the internal kindling that I’m apparently missing right now. I don’t want to be the purveyor of pity sex.
I want to be a priestess at the altar of LUVIN…
I want to find my inner hottie mama and invite her to stay for awhile…
Since it’s Sex Week here at CrankMama, I thought I’d tell you a little about my life during my 2nd week of working again.
First, the pimp calls to set up the meet, identifies the John and tells me where to go, what was ordered, and how much I’ll get.
Then, I get all dolled up, do my quick tantra meditation, grab the lube and whip and go!
Not really. That was my other job.
This job is less remunerative, but also quite a bit less stressful and, let’s face it, much much easier on the wonderflower.
Today is only my 2nd of 3 work days this week and I’m already totally dog tired, hope I never have to use my legs/feet again, and am gripped by the familiar mixture of joy & despair that accompanies working while raising young kids. Ambivalence is the hobgoblin of working mothers everywhere… at least this working mother.
The inner dialogue goes something like this:
Jesus! The kids are driving me CRAZY this morning! When will J get here so I can get OUT and go to work? Thank GOD she’s here so I can go…
I hope V doesn’t do anything cute today that I’ll miss. She WON’T! She’ll be napping most of the time you’re gone anyway!
Ahhh… work. A reprieve. Hot coffee. This is such an interesting spreadsheet. A headache… Shit! I really miss the kids! Look how cute they are in that picture… Was V ever that small? I have GOT to do that photo album before I lose track of time…
I want another baby! NO! You DON’T! You just THINK you do because you’re no longer insane with sleep deprivation! But I do! NO NO NO! What if you had another set of twins? GULP. You’re right.
Only 2 hours more and then I can go home.. I’m so tired today I can’t see straight. Poor V.. I hope she doesn’t miss me.
Home again. Relief.
See? Working girls can’t win…
whip whip
Erotic Love…Part II
Since several of you seem quite interested in the Erotic Love post, I’m selecting 2 of the responses by folks who might just have this problem licked (couldn’t resist). They are also two great bloggin’ chicks, so it’s also an opportunity to check out their sites…
Martini Mom said:
Grab asses randomly during the day…touch touch touch…whisper dirty little thangs in each others ears whilst cooking up dinner…flirt…kiss each other often and with passion (nothing too gross out but it’s OK to kiss in front of your kiddos…this way…they learn now to imbue passion into their lives when older)…fight about sex and then go make up…flirt…give a massage with no "goal" in mind…kiss…look each other in the eye…breathe…FLIRT...
Stay At Aum Mom said:
Oh the dearth of freaky freaky that comes after the babies… Most of the time, it’s the old "just too damn tired" excuse. Every now and again, though, the wild hare strikes and there is a week or so of unbridled, exuberant lovemaking. Followed by a few weeks of recovery, since necessarily this involves using up time that would normally be filled with heavy duty sleeping.
Everything in life is a trade-off, isn’t it? And then, there is the unavoidable embarrassment of having your preschooler suddenly come upon a pair of handcuffs and some rather difficult-to-explain items of clothing. That’s always fun, too. "Yes, baby, sometimes mommy needs to dress up like she’s going to school…"
You heard it here folks, schoolgirl uniforms, grab ass, and breathing…. Who knew?
I want to know when these two will start teaching seminars… or bloginars??
I’m truly IMPRESSED!
Erotic Love
In an excellent article in Salon, author Esther Perel argues that marriage and family as they are formulated in American culture are not hothouses of erotic love. Friendship, managing children and household needs, and a literal and figurative intrusion of kids into the parent’s bedroom, spells doom for excitement in the marital bed.
Not news to most of us, surely, yet I always appreciate an honest discussion of the struggle to find eroticism in monogamous-kid-filled marriages. How does one account for the supposed sexual peak that occurs for most women in their mid- to late-30s and the concomitant decline in some men’s appetites? Regardless of who wants what, when, and how, the issue boils down to managing differing levels of desire.
More than money, in-laws, and differing religious beliefs, sexual desire has always been at the core of most of my relationship conflicts. And I don’t mean mild disagreement, either. All the loud door-slamming and yelling and crying has been committed by me during discussions of sex. And these fights have usually occurred because I have a higher level of sexual desire –talk about feeling out of sync with the mainstream! My first marriage more or less crashed and burned over this issue.
Assuming one is committed to staying within the bounds of monogamy, that one loves and desires one’s spouse and loves one’s children, what is one to do to rekindle erotic love, passion, and desire amidst the prosaic reality of laundry, dishes, vacuuming, and diapering?
Perel argues (and she seems a good authority, she’s been married over 20 years) that part of recapturing eroticism is to carve out a space that is kid and chore-free. I can appreciate the idea that some of one’s house should be kid-free, but I don’t need to tell you (because you know) how totally off putting it is to be the little french waitress and have one of the kids yell out that they have an itchy bottom. And yes, we can employ babysitters and run away to hotels far far away (which my hubs and I do occasionally), but I don’t want to have to spend $200 just to get my freak on.
What I’m talking about is something more revolutionary… imbuing the every day with the sparkle of the erotic. And no, goddammit, I haven’t figured out how to do it yet. But it can be done, I know it can. Meanwhile, all I have is the bad late 80s album by Bruce to keep me company in my quest…
Well it ain’t no secret
I’ve been around a time or two
Well I don’t know baby maybe you’ve been around too
Well there’s another dance
all you gotta do is say yes
And if you’re rough and ready for love
honey I’m tougher than the rest….
