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.
I need to do something to re-erect our love life.
Re-erect? Is that a word? That’s the word I’m looking for, right? Whatever.
First, I need to do something to get myself in shape. Three months post-baby and I still feel big as a house. I lost all the baby weight pretty quickly, but I still feel like my ass is huge. I also need to do something about my vagina. There is no way it feels the same to him when we have sex. Although, we haven’t really had sex since Billy was born. I let him get halfway in and then he made some comment about my sloppy vagina and I told him to get off of me. Plenty of women have natural child birth and they don’t have floppy vaginas. I've looked it up on the internet. I've tried to look at mine with a mirror and my leg up on the sink of the bathroom. That had been right after I got home from the hospital with Billy though and it was a hot mess. I probably should have waited a few more weeks, but now I can’t look at raw ground meat without crossing my legs and wincing.
Basically, I’m afraid to have sex with my husband. He’s always loved my vagina. He even has a shirt that says: I love my wife’s vagina. What if having sex with me now is like fucking a bowl of Jell-O Jigglers? That is not at all hot, especially if they’re green Jell-O Jigglers. I’m not saying my vagina is green, but I’m sure it’s jiggly. I shook it a little when I had looked at it in the mirror and it definitely wiggled when it jiggled. Vagina’s should never jiggle.
I am going to leave work early and go to a yoga class. Getting my body in shape might help make me feel better and then I can work on getting Drew to help out more around the house so I’m not so tired all of the time. Drew doesn’t work tonight so he’s home with the kids all day. Maybe a little bending and stretching will get things back to where they’re supposed to be, and I won’t have to worry about the lips of my vagina hanging low and wobbling to and fro. You should never be able to tie them in a knot OR a bow.
Chapter 4 – Downwind Lapping Dog
“HE CALLED SHIT, POOP!”
I laugh out loud and put up my hand so my daughter can give me a high five.
I can’t help but laugh whenever Veronica quotes her and her brother’s namesake movie: Billy Madison. We are curled up on the couch together, watching the best movie of all time, and Billy is asleep in his swing a few feet away.
Jenny walks in the door a few minutes later. Actually, she limps in the door and hobbles across the room until she makes it to the couch and sits down on the other side of Veronica, giving her a kiss on the head.
“Mommy, you gots a boo-boo?” Veronica asks her.
I stare in horror at Jenny as she pulls the footstool closer and props her leg up on top of it, leaning back into the couch and pulling Veronica onto her lap.
Oh my God. This is it. This is the fake injury. How should I play this? Should I call her out immediately and tell her she’s a big, fat liar? Wait, never call a woman fat. Especially after pregnancy, even if you’re just joking. Lives will be lost. Maybe I should just play along and keep my cool.
“Yes, mommy has a boo-boo,” Jenny replies with a sigh.
“HA HA! YOU GOT HURT!” I yell.