Keeping Score
One of my high school friends used to log on her calendar each time she had sex with her boyfriend. I’m not sure if she logged the number of times she cheated on him, but she felt the need to keep a tally of actual intercourse.
My boyfriend at the time, and roommate to her boyfriend at boarding school, thought if you have to keep track, it’s not enough although it’s hard to imagine his hormones surging more than mine.
I’m thirty one and I’ve heard that my hormones have not yet peaked, another concept I struggle to grasp. Lately, I’ve been anything but interested in intercourse. My boobs that were once so sensitive they would leak milk from stimulation now hang like limp lumps from my body.
Last night I rolled over and I rubbed my foot against my husband’s leg. His disappointment and lack of interest in any sort of contact was immediately apparent. At first I was not sure what he was protesting, but perhaps in some diluted male mind, the contact of one foot and one leg means foreplay.
Maybe I need to be seduced more. Sure. That sounds great. I just can’t imagine it is going to go much beyond, “The kids are quiet. Quick. Strip.”
Cheating in My Dreams
Last night I dreamt I was kissing this attractive well built young guy. I’m sounding like a real MILF when I refer to someone in their mid twenties as young. He began rubbing me and eventually I succumbed to his advances. Other than him being well endowed, I do not remember too much about our physical action, but I do know I was disappointed that we did not meet up again.
My sister and I had been talking about sexual choices we made when we were younger that night and I am not proud to admit how I used my body, or rather let my body be used for ulterior reasons, mostly for attention and feeling included. Who knew not being popular in middle school could have so many ramifications later on in life?
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New and Improved
My mom always said Life is not a dress rehearsal. She said it so frequently and lived by it so fully we put it on her tombstone. Life is not a dress rehearsal.
I know some people make bucket lists, and some producers make movies called Bucket List but why do you have to wait until you are old and gray with death looming in front of you to make a “bucket list”? Why not just live your life fully? That’s what my mom did, to the point of me perceiving her as selfish at times, and that is what I intend to do.
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Public Rants
September 15, 2009, 4:29 pm
Filed under:
Current Situation,
Embarrassing Story,
Never Happen Again | Tags:
kanye west,
mourning mom,
rant,
serena williams,
us open,
yelling at kids in public,
you tube,
youtubeSeems like everyone is having meltdowns lately. Well at least some public people are which exonerates us normal folks whose breakdowns are not publicized.
Serena Williams ranted at an umpire’s call and lost match point based on poor decorum. I’m all up for maintaining a sense of dignity when playing a gentleman’s sport. (I’m using the term gentleman despite my Smith education and its masculine inclination to describe well behaved and civil.) While Serena should have been penalized for her outburst she did not deserve to lose the round. The same way that the World Cup revisited its tie breaker rules after a game was won with penalty kicks, the US Open should revise its poor sportsmanship rule. This is of course coming from a mom who does not play tennis and did not have the opportunity to watch the video, although I may go to youtube shortly.
I don’t want to watch the video while the babysitter is making bottles in the other room. Having her work in the open apartment and be able to glance at what I am doing or at least hear sounds from the computer forces me to at least appear productive, hence no youtube or crossword puzzles.
Kanye West stole Taylor Swift’s spotlight at the VMAs Sunday and later went on Leno to apologize. He admited to being drunk that night and responding to Jay’s question said he had not had time to mourn his mom’s passing in November. I never thought I’d have so much in common with a superstar rapper. I know we lost our mom’s in different ways but the tragedy still stings. I miss my mom so terribly. I believe she would be proud of how I am conducting myself professionally and personally.
I know she would delight in my kids and wants to be here for them and for me. But I know she does not *need* to be here. She has given me tools and skills to help me tackle it all. While I am freed from her definitive and sometimes oppressing opinion/ advice, I want her here.
On a recent afternoon I could not get my daughter to sit in the stroller or walk home and I was expecting a visitor. Walking along the river promenade past tables and chairs littered with people who were free at 4:00 in the afternoon I lost my temper. “It’s enough! It’s enough! It’s enough!” I screamed lifting my daughter in my arms. Strangers from every direction put down their books, paused on their computers, interrupted a cell phone call to stare at me. That was plenty of witnesses for me. While it was not a huge deal I’m glad I do not have to answer for that moment or watch it again or cringe knowing my friends could view it on youtube.
Slipping through the cracks
Tom Petty sings that even the losers get lucky sometimes. I figure if something someone some anything is going to slip through the cracks, why not roll the dice and see if it is you? Of course, you have to weigh the consequences if what you are do not slip through but in fact are obvious.
I don’t advocate stealing because the pay off is not worth the risk. However, let’s say asking for a discount or trying to get some paper approved, well there is no harm in asking. I don’t play the lottery – a tax for people who are bad at math – but people do win. That one in a million does exist.
My sister once hypothesized that a person was better off saving his or her lottery allowance for one week and buy 54 tickets at once. But I suppose people like to have a little bit excitement each week and roll the dice to see.
Just some random thoughts. My toe is throbbing because I stubbed it.
Caught in the Act
Have you caught your daughter masturbating?
Have you been caught with your hand in your pants?
It happens.
Mom, it’s not a big deal. It’s actually quite healthy.
As much as I have issues with my stepmother, I am eternally grateful to her for bringing me to Caldor, am I dating myself?, and buying me a Conair handheld “facial massager.” Not sure if my dad knows about this because he has not made any reference during his embarrassing and inappropriate verbal diarrhea. My boobs and menstruation cycle have not been off-limits.
Since I did not play with my hands, the idea of using a highly efficient and targeted machine was not in my paradigm. I had told my mom that New Wifey thought I needed one and my mom was appalled, as I was initially. We didn’t discuss self satisfaction, and the idea of needing a machine to replace a man seemed, well…it entailed a certain amount of resignation.
Of course my opinion has changed in the thirteen years since that fateful Caldor trip. Why would you need a man if you can have a machine zero in? No small talk, no waiting for the phone to ring, no awkwardness, no drama.
My college housemate a BDOC- Big Lesbian on Campus told me that I was lucky I was not gay because I would be desensitized to the human touch and only want to use machines. I like it both ways, but there are times I like the direct aim of my vibrator friend.
So mom, do not worry. It’s healthy. Ask your daughter if she wants to talk about it.
And if you were caught, you can always remind the witness that what you are doing is perfectly healthy and smart, and you can always say I don’t want to talk about it.
Bad Mommy
The other day I took my Pookers to a take out restaurant with outdoor seating. A gaggle of moms watching their children play in the open field commented how cute my daughter was. (So it is not just me who finds her exceptional.) I thanked them and began to wheel her from the brick seating area to the grassy square so she could watch and chase the bigger kids.
Since it was all of about 10 yards, I could have carried her and pushed the stroller with one hand. I could have fastened her into the stroller too as the instruction manual insists. Instead, I took the lazy mommy route and pushed the stroller with my baby sitting upright. At least she was sitting upright until we hit a snag transitioning to the dirt. My daughter fell face first into the dirt in front of all of the moms who were just admiring my daughter and their children who took a break from their game of tag to watch my embarrassment.
I held my screaming baby as the witnesses tried to comfort telling me that she landed on the soft earth. I brushed the dirt from her face and clothing yet it remained surprisingly stubborn on her lips and chin.
Someone once told me that babies tend to freak out more from the loss of control when falling then the actual body on ground impact. I know Pookie was probably more scared than hurt but the screaming of bloody murder around the small beach community made it sound like I was torturing my angel.
And so I get nominated in the Bad Mommy Category for the day.
Embarrassing Vibrator Story
When I moved apartments, I packed my vibrator in a suitcase that the movers loaded into a van. On this particularly stressful moving day one of the movers tells me that my bag is buzzing.
I went to the truck and immediately identified what was causing the stir in the bag. It was too buried and I was too stressed to do anything other than let the batteries expire.
The Time my Husband Gave my Mom a Porn
My mom was in the hospital recovering from surgery and I was visiting her as much as possible. One day I brought our portable dvd player and a bunch of movies for her to entertain herself.
My husband neglected to mention that he uses the portable dvd player at night when he cannot sleep and wants to watch something stimulating without waking me up. *
* I never found out if he watched in bed next to be or went downstairs but did not want to raise the volume (we were living in a loft style apartment at the time). I have to guess the former. Who really needs sound on a porn?
After I left the hospital my mom turns on the dvd player and one of my husband’s favorite porns loaded.
She ended up watching Boogie Nights afterwards so either the porn was not that much of a shock or put her in the mood to watch something a little scintillating.
Embarrassing Vibrator Story #3
By the time I wrapped up my post-collegiate back-packing tour in Southeast Asia, I was horny. I had hooked up with two guys who share the same name as my husband, one in Thailand, the other a week later in Bali.
The day before I was set to return, I was camped out in a small youth hostel in Hong Kong. I was tired of traveling and sleeping on uncomfortable beds and found myself in an expensive city where I could not stand out any more. Unlike the other countries I had visited on this tour, I was not staying nor stumbling upon any contemporary travelers.
Roaming the streets, I meandered into some sort of outdoor market with vendors hacking all sorts of knick knacks and crap. Then I saw a little mini battery operated vibrator that could satisfy me for the night and fit into my small back-pack. I was bored and had nowhere to rush off to so I asked the vendor who spoke practically no English what the little gadget was for.
He tried to explain that it was a head massager and I got him to demonstrate on scalp. I don’t know if he thought I was some dumb tourist or if he really intended for buyers to use it as a head massager or what. But I kept a straight face, until I satisfied myself that night.
