Deliciously Naughty

Wordless Wednesday--As seen on a Phuket Beach

I know it's supposed to be wordless, but I think you're going to need some help.  The image shown was drawn in the sand of a Phuket Beach.  It's a nude woman sitting with her thighs open.  Look long enough and you'll see it.  Click it for a larger, full sized image.

I'll be back in about 7-10 days when we're back home and recovered from the trip.

Wanton Wednesday--taken 2006 (but never before seen here)

These are some older shots I've never posted here but have cropped to go along with my more artistic approach to Wanton Wednesday

New Article at Carnal Nation

When Getting Pregnant Isn't So Easy

The new article is up, and it's the story of a friend of mine.  Her husband is trans and they are struggling to get pregnant...I think it's particularly an interesting read if you've never thought about the struggles of those who are lesbian/gay/transgendered when it comes to fertility.

Go read and come back and comment, or add a comment there.

Breaking Up With Our Therapist

So recently Sexyhusband and I broke up with our couples counselor.  It wasn't an easy decision to make and it was far more my choice than Sexyhusband's, but once I was really unhappy, it was the right course of action to end the relationship.

Something our counselor said early on really bothered me, and I think was one of the biggest reasons that I became dissatisfied with our relationship with him.  He stated that he didn't think the way we'd set up our relationship was realistic (that SH works and I'm home with the Little Mistress).  Without going into detail, I will just say that we are lucky enough that from a financial perspective it does.  I certainly wouldn't mind going back to work in the future...in fact, I actively want to, but there are many reasons that it doesn't make sense at the moment.  I felt like there were many points where that opinion colored the advice he'd give us.

The second issue was that he kept pushing for changes that one or both of us were unwilling to make.  Sure, I'd LOVE it if SH got up early on the weekends and gave the LM and myself more time.  I would genuflect to the universe if he did it.  But to be fair, he gets something like 5 hours of sleep from Sunday night through Thursday night.  In his position if anyone tried to wake me before noon at the earliest on the weekend, there would be violence.  So I grudgingly understand where SH is coming from on that. 

The third is that there were several occasions where the session made a bad thing worse.  In one case explosively worse when if we hadn't had a session, we would have stepped away and been better able to handle the disagreement or whatever far better than what happened in the session which was to in essence push each other buttons far more, making the fight bigger.

So in the end, he was the wrong person to work with.  He had good intentions and good insights, but the relationship did not work. 

Obviously this doesn't mean we're dumb enough to think we're cured.  We need to find someone new, who Skypes (there are dr/patient confidentiality issues in our home country), who is open to and familiar with open relationships and BDSM and who understands and works with the nonnegotiables in our relationship. 

Back to square one.

Wanton Wednesday-- My Anniversary Weekend Edition (Part 2)

5 random Tuesday bits

1--In a few weeks time we will have some visitors and then everyone will be off to Phuket for some sandy (and hopefully naughty fun).  I've pitched a feature to Carnal Nation, so hopefully you'll be reading about it there. 

2--May I just share that recently as we've begun the readying process for toilet training the Little Mistress that there is more scat talk in my home than I ever imagined there would be.

3--doing a final polish on my next column--I'll be telling my friend G's journey towards motherhood with her husband S, who is trans.  I'm hoping to shine a light on something I don't hear much talk about in the LGBT community--the infertility issues and how that impacts your life.

4-I'm hoping to write a longer post later, but Sexyhusband and I broke up with our couples counselor and are now searching out a new one who Skypes (the country we live in has some patient confidentiality issues we're concerned about, so we prefer an American therapist).

5-Recently on a date Sexyhusband and I popped into a sex shop and were kind of horrified by the lube prices.  Imagine our shock to find astroglide at a local pharmacy for only a 100% markup instead of 3-500% markup. 

Wordless Wednesday--My Anniversary Weekend Edition (part 1)

New Article at Carnal Nation

My newest article at Carnal Nation is up.

Go read Number Two? Baby Lust and Logic and then come back to comment.

Anniversary

Several years ago Sexyhusband was crazy enough to go through with the wedding...

Thanks babe.

Here's hoping our rough patch is finally almost over...and that we will continue to strengthen and renew our love.

Wordless Wednesday-Striptease--My tits (NSFW)

Wordless Wednesday

I'd love to hear from any guys about what the experience of getting a boyzillian is really like.

Sorry for the reflections...couldn't find an angle that didn't include them.

You know you're not in the US anymore when...

You see a sex shop using Disney font...

Considering their record for viciously going after daycares that used poorly rendered Disney characters without paying a licensing fee, I can only imagine the level of *headexplode* that would go on over use of their signature font being used by a sex shop. 

Personally I think they're overlooking a certain market...after all, Condi the Condom or whatever they want to call him is pretty adorable.  Think of all the safe sex he could enourage, and the branding and marketing opportunities they're missing out on!  It's not like there isn't a thriving (and slightly disturbing at times) market for Disney porn...they could embrace it and makes tons more money...that way once we've outgrown certain movies and product lines, they could grab us with *other* movies and Disney lines of condoms, lingerie (what would Cinderella wear?), lube, sex toys (what happens if you rub the genies lamp?), and other assorted goodies (you *know* Jafar was a top...what would he have in his goodie box).

Hell, they're already doing Disney dream weddings where you get to wear the EXACT REPLICA dress of your favorite Disney Princess.  Why not the wedding night?

I'm just sayin'....

Marriage Counseling update

Our marriage counselor is in Boston.  We now live in Southeast Asia.  But, thanks to the wonders of Skype, we are still working with him.

I can't recall each session in depth, but I can say that a topic that has come up a lot is how alienated we both feel right now.  It's hard to work on your marriage when one partner is gone 12+ hours a day (that would, obviously, be Sexyhusband).  I've also been struggling with questions of identity, work, and motherhood...in that here where being a housewife doesn't feel like such a choice and our days aren't filled with obligations, I struggle to fill my time.  As he is gone when I wake up, and we have a short window after the LM goes to bed (she's a late to bed, late to rise kind of girl) before we need to sleep...communication is a much bigger challenge.  There have also been various ailments...one of the things that is common but few people talk about when you move to a new country is that it's common to get sick as hell for a few months.  Fun.

On the plus side we have had a consistent date night once a week for the past month or so (since we hired our helper, basically) which is more than we've had in the past year and a half.  Unlike when the grandparents watched the Little Mistress, we don't have to be home at any specific time, which is also a big bonus.

In other words....things are...okay.  Mostly we are having good days, but there are still fights, frustration, and elements to work on.  Which means we'll be skyping our marriage counselor regularly.

What'd I say?

We now live in a fairly conservative SE Asian country.  They don't allow breasts to be shown in movies/tv/real life, and there is no porn, but prostitution is legal and there are tons of sex shops.  At eye level.  To children.  With big window displays of sex toys easily viewable to said children.  I don't get it either.

Sexyhusband and I came to the very sad realization that our floggers had dissapeared somewhere in our last two moves.  So I decided to try a sex shop to see what they had on the shelves.

Once I scraped my jaw off the ground from the prices (triple the American price is low), I managed to find the "kinky" area of the store.  And was massively disappointed.  There were a couple of handcuffs no kinkster would be seen near unless they were part of the scene (ie we're playing at being bad at kink), a few pathetic (and cheesy) blindfolds and that was it. 

Seriously?  The Amazing Store up the street from my old apartment had better kinkster toys and I usually slammed them as being fairly pathetic overall as a sex shop.  10,000 miles later, they're looking pretty good to me.

So I turn to an employee and ask him if this is all they have for BDSM toys.

He had no idea what BDSM is.  So I explained.  At which point his eyes got really big and he got someone else.

Who I also requested kinky products from.  He got another person.

Who didn't understand the term kinky, even though it was on the sign over my head and I kept gesticulating towards it.

He got the manager.

I asked her where I could get high quality floggers.  Deer, elk, etc.  Or even a good paddle.  She shook her head and said "nowhere."

Which is when I got the idea to ask if there were "educational" videos (the usual backdooor...pardon the pun...to porn).  Yes, yes there are educational videos.  But before I cheered, I made a point of asking if there is demonstration of the techniques in these videos.  No, no there isn't.

Foiled again.

I'm pretty sure I heard a collective sigh of relief when I left.  The scary lady who knew more about sex toys than they did had left the building.

Not exactly sure why I should be offended...

For those who thought I'd died...I didn't.  I moved to Asia instead for Sexyhusband's job. 

I'm sure I'll have a lot to talk about that's specific to sex in my new home that I just can't share with my friends/ parents/ in-laws/ etc back home.  No promises about how much I'll blog as I'm pretty up to my neck in the nonsense of settling into a new home complicated by the fact that it's a new country as well--which brings its own twist to settling in.

Last night I met up with Sexyhusband for dinner, and then we walked back to our apartment together with the LM.

Strolling in the steamy night air, I felt a smug wave of satisfaction wash over me when a leaflet passer-outer (what would you call that job, exactly?) didn't even try to hand me one of his leaflets.  I WIN at fitting in here, even if I am a fat white girl in a country of teeny Asians.  I can walk the expat walk baby.

I felt even more smug to see that Sexyhusband hadn't managed to avoid the leaflets.  He LOOKS like he fits in here and he didn't avoid it...I WIN AT LIVING HERE!

"What's it for?" I asked, trying to keep the smug tone out of my voice.

Wordlessly he handed it to me.

I am faced with a half naked woman draping herself in pearls, her white lingerie at odds with the business she represents--It's an add for a brothel.

"Wow, he has balls to hand that to you in front of me," I said, kind of blown away by the sheer chutzpah of the dude with the leaflets.

I take a moment to question my inner normal person to ask how I'm supposed to feel instead of somewhat impressed.  I think the "correct" response to your husband being handed an add for a brothel IN FRONT OF YOU is supposed to be offended, even in a country where it's legal.

"He probably didn't think we were together," Sexyhusband responds.

I stop and mentally inventory us.  Asian country.  White girl with a baby stroller dressed in shorts and tank top.  Asian dude in business wear.  Major city.  Lots of people on the sidewalk.  We hadn't necessarily been chatting up a storm at that particular moment.

Oh.

Which makes me check in with my "normal" self again.  The dude didn't think I was my husband's wife.  Am I supposed to be offended about that instead?

I just can't decide...and instead settle for amused and glad I finally have DN blog post material for a change.

New Column at Carnal Nation...

One Weekend, No Baby....

Read it here.

Couples Counseling...sessions 2 and 3

Session 2

Between sessions 1 and 2 there was a lot of fighting.  A LOT of fighting.  The most hurtful thing that gets said during a fight is that one of us will threaten to divorce or walk out on the other...we each have our reasons for it, but it gets said, and it's incredibly painful and hurtful...which is kind of the point.  But the thing is that each time it's used a weapon, it becomes a little more conceivable that it could/might/will happen, and another irreparable crack comes into the marriage.

So while there were things discussed at the start of the session, I was really focused on bringing up learning how to fight fairly.  While we didn't establish ground rules, one thing our therapist did ask was if we could make a promise to stay for a period of time.  Three months, six months....he asked each of us if we could do it.  Sexyhusband realized that our wedding anniversary was in just over six months and we each agreed that we would not, could not leave before then (which in a really morbid way would be one hell of a way to celebrate the anniversary).

We talked about why we each go to that...divorce/abandonment...while we fight.

For me, it's largely about control.  I feel like our world is spinning out of control right now, and even thought I know intellectually that a divorce would not simplify my life, there are ways in which emotionally not having Sexyhusband in my life feels like it would make things easier.  I would re-establish control over my destiny.  As a stay at home mom, one of the things I struggle most with is that I am dependent upon Sexyhusband's income and Sexyhusband.  It is frightening and unfamiliar.  However, there are a variety of reasons that make it the right choice at this time.  For Sexyhusband, it has a lot to do with the blow to his self confidence and sense of self the layoff was.  He feels like he doesn't deserve the LM and I.  So I tells me to divorce him so that I could find a "better" man who deserves me and deserves our daughter. 

Perhaps the best thing to really come out of that is that 10 days later I can realize that what we're fighting about isn't the heart of the marriage but instead it's fighting about normal stuff (keeping the house clean, taking a "fair" share of baby duty, blah blah blah) and then our own insecurities/psychodrama/selfesteem issues taking over and making it 1,000 times worse. 

There's still a lot of work to do...

*********************************

Session 3

The general tone of our session this time was much more upbeat.  Perhaps because Sexyhusband wasn't caught in the depths of depression, perhaps because I wasn't feeling as tense.  Maybe because there had been some positive momentum on his job hunt.  Who knows...

The topics of the session ranged from some early history of our relationship (we are steadily approaching our fifth dating anniversary) which is a story that begins with a craigslist ad to the loss of our cat (and how it ties into the experience of loss in general for Sexyhusband) to Sexyhusband's history with his now ex-employer.  It steered clear of the topics that we generally fight about and in many ways was a session for our therapist to get a feel for some history that wasn't touched upon in the first session.

While I'm not sure that this session helped us resolve anything, I feel like it was good for our counselor to get a feel for us as a couple without the tenser dynamic. For him to see some of the things that make the marriage worth fighting for.

Mommy’s Sexual Resolutions

Originally I wrote this as a column for Carnal Nation.  However, my editor and I decided it just re-covered too much ground I'd gone over there.  Thus I will use it here.

****************************

As we bid 2009 farewell, my thoughts stray to the mistakes of the past year and the changes I would like to make in 2010.  This is a parenting and sex column, so I won’t bore you with my more mundane resolutions; instead we’ll focus on my sexy resolutions.

 

Resolution #1-Remember that I’m DN, and not just Mommy

 

At first glance, this may not seem like a sexual resolution.  However, I can assure you that it’s hard to focus on getting it on when you’re preoccupied with how many ounces of milk your child drank and the cute thing that made you laugh.  When you are the primary caregiver for your child, some of your interaction with your partner turns into the status report so that he knows what’s up with the baby—a new word, a new skill, a change in medication.  These communications are important, but also tend to keep me in my Mommy shoes as opposed to my Wife or DN ones.

 

Taking time to be DN makes it easier to be sexual

 

Resolution #2—Have sex

 

Again, a seemingly basic resolution.  But as a mother of a young child, especially a special needs child, sex can end up on the back burner.  Last year there were several dry spells of more than a month, and while there are a thousand excuses, none of them are satisfying. 

 

I’m not one of those “have sex N times a week” people-we tried that and it was just pressure.  When it didn’t happen, I felt like a failure.  When it did, there were plenty of occasions where it was duty sex, which was also a mistake I made too frequently in the past.

 

I do think scheduling sex isn’t bad—getting a babysitter, dropping the Little Mistress off and going home for sex instead of out for a dinner and movie evening.  It’s an option and not one we’ve utilized the way we should.

 

We need to make a point of having sex instead of watching The Daily Show or whatever…it’s really easy at the end of the day to lay in bed and zone out for a while.  But when it’s time to have sex, it’s just too late and while the spirit is willing, the flesh wants to sleep.

 

Having sex is a priority in 2010.

 

Resolution #3—Make an effort to take time for my own orgasm

 

As I have said before, one of my biggest errors last year was not taking time for my own orgasm.  I noted in last month’s column that there came a day where I went to use my trusty silver bullet to get a quick orgasm while the baby napped, only to discover that the batteries were dead from disuse.  Taking care of my partner instead of demanding my own orgasm so that I could just get to sleep already was another mistake I made, because in making the sex about him, unsurprisingly it made it less pleasurable and less desirable, creating a spiral of negative emotion and negative feedback.

 

My partner and I both need to make my orgasm a priority.  On my own, a quick orgasm makes it easier to relax, to get to sleep, or just as a quick jolt to my day.  With a partner, it helps create a pleasurable (no pun intended) feedback loop that increases my sex drive.

 

Making my orgasm a priority will help me have more sex in 2010.

 

Resolution #4—Start going back to various classes, educational opportunities

 

I’m not talking about getting a second Master’s Degree…I’m talking about classes in advanced flogging technique, introduction to fire play, and improving your inner Domme.

 

I have attended lifestyle conventions, weekend classes, and demo nights in the past, and found them to be not only a way to acquire or improve a skill, but to meet other kinky people, and to get incredibly horny. 

 

Classes have been an important lifeline for me.  When I was pregnant, I went to Dark Odyssey, and by participating in a petting zoo, I discovered a softer way to be submissive.  A class at Floating World gave me the confidence to start hypnotizing my husband (something he had been requesting for quite some time which I hadn’t felt comfortable doing).  Participating in a local BDSM group helped us find community, and access to wonderful educational opportunities.

 

In 2009, I rarely picked up or felt the sting of a cane or a flogger.  I hypnotized, but as it’s not my kink, it wasn’t overly fulfilling.  We made two meetings of our BDSM group, and then didn’t even realize it when our annual membership lapsed.  I wore fetishwear exactly once.

 

I am no less kinky a woman than I was before the Little Mistress made her appearance.  However, in being her 24/7 service submissive, I forgot that I also like to be a naughty little submissive to my partner and a bitchy domme to him as well.

 

Resolution #5—Find time to explore sex outside of my marriage

 

My partner and I have an open marriage in theory.  In 2009, there was one occasion where we exercised that option.  Both of us would like the chance to play with other people together and separately (although mostly together) in 2010.

Perhaps there’s nothing new here, and nothing any reader wouldn’t have predicted, but nonetheless it was worth saying.  If a pregnant or new mom reads this, I want her to know that it’s okay and it’s normal to struggle with how and where sex fits into your life with a young child/children.  It’s okay to make the mistakes you’ll make as long as you realize what they are, and move forward.

Things you never want to hear...

Walking through the door, I am greeted by the LM.  Sexyhusband is sitting on the couch, holding an abandoned toy.

"How'd it go?" I ask.

"So we mostly hung out in the bedroom. I was watching West Wing and the LM was wandering around.  Do you know where the camera is?"

"Over there," I respond, pointing.  "Why?"

"Because she picked up your riding crop and was waving it around.  I wanted to take a picture, but didn't know where the camera was."

**************************************

Ok, look....I want to raise a daughter with a healthy sexual self-image.  But I draw the line at MY sex toys. 

I also think she needs to say more than three words before she's ready for that sort of thing...right now sex positive means using the correct names for body parts...not sex toys. 

I've got to remember that she can get into my dresser drawers and find a new spot for stuff.

Merry Christmas

It's time for the annual repost of the 12 Freudian Days of Christmas

The idea for "12 Freudian Days of Christmas" struck me during a cosmopolitan drenched evening with Gayhusband a few years ago (my gay best friend; do not confuse with Sexyhusband or I might not get my Christmas Spanking).   

Basically the back story is that we were talking about how Freud thought everything was about sex, and off the cuff I started drunkenly spouting off about how "The Twelve Days of Christmas" was a perfect example of a song that had a Freudian interpretation, and going through it day by day. 

Gayhusband thought it was funny, and made me write it down.  So, in the spirit of the season, here it is...I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, worship at my adorable feet.  If not...blame him.

A Freudian Interpretation of the Classic Song “The Twelve Days of Christmas”

First Day: A Partridge in a Pear Tree

A tree is an over sized bush.  An over sized bush represents a woman's pubic hair (perhaps unruly?).  The bird in the bush is the clitoris.  Small bird in a tree-he can't find the clitoris.

Second Day: Two Turtle Doves

Two people having romantic sex (being "lovey dovey")

Third Day: Three French Hens

Menage a trois, obviously; the french, the invocation of three.

Fourth Day: Four Calling Birds

The four call girls he patronizes.

Fifth Day: Five Golden Rings

Obvious fear of commitment

Sixth Day: Six Geese a-Laying

An allusion to a woman’s fertility...the eggs dropping into or "laying" itself in the womb

Seventh Day: Seven Swans a Swimming

The sperm swimming towards the egg

Eighth Day: Eight Maids a Milking

Lactation, either that of a mother or a fetish relating to lactating women, most likely the latter

Ninth Day: Nine Ladies Dancing

Obsessed with strippers.

Tenth Day: Ten Lords a Leaping

Did someone visit a gay bar?

Eleventh Day: Eleven Pipers Piping

Someone did visit a gay bar and went piping (i.e. performed fellatio-perhaps in the bathroom?)

Twelfth Day: Twelve Drummers Drumming

Perhaps it was a leather bar, and someone was drummed on the ass?  Spanking fetish at any rate.

Diagnosis-patient is severely disturbed

The idea for "12 Freudian Days of Christmas" struck me during a cosmopolitan drenched evening with Gayhusband a few years ago (my gay best friend; do not confuse with Sexyhusband or I might not get my Christmas Spanking).   

Basically the back story is that we were talking about how Freud thought everything was about sex, and off the cuff I started drunkenly spouting off about how "The Twelve Days of Christmas" was a perfect example of a song that had a Freudian interpretation, and going through it day by day. 

Gayhusband thought it was funny, and made me write it down.  So, in the spirit of the season, here it is...I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, worship at my adorable feet.  If not...blame him.

A Freudian Interpretation of the Classic Song “The Twelve Days of Christmas”

First Day: A Partridge in a Pear Tree

A tree is an over sized bush.  An over sized bush represents a woman's pubic hair (perhaps unruly?).  The bird in the bush is the clitoris.  Small bird in a tree-he can't find the clitoris.

Second Day: Two Turtle Doves

Two people having romantic sex (being "lovey dovey")

Third Day: Three French Hens

Menage a trois, obviously; the french, the invocation of three.

Fourth Day: Four Calling Birds

The four call girls he patronizes.

Fifth Day: Five Golden Rings

Obvious fear of commitment

Sixth Day: Six Geese a-Laying

An allusion to a woman’s fertility...the eggs dropping into or "laying" itself in the womb

Seventh Day: Seven Swans a Swimming

The sperm swimming towards the egg

Eighth Day: Eight Maids a Milking

Lactation, either that of a mother or a fetish relating to lactating women, most likely the latter

Ninth Day: Nine Ladies Dancing

Obsessed with strippers.

Tenth Day: Ten Lords a Leaping

Did someone visit a gay bar?

Eleventh Day: Eleven Pipers Piping

Someone did visit a gay bar and went piping (i.e. performed fellatio-perhaps in the bathroom?)

Twelfth Day: Twelve Drummers Drumming

Perhaps it was a leather bar, and someone was drummed on the ass?  Spanking fetish at any rate.

Diagnosis-patient is severely disturbed

The idea for "12 Freudian Days of Christmas" struck me during a cosmopolitan drenched evening with Gayhusband a few years ago (my gay best friend; do not confuse with Sexyhusband or I might not get my Christmas Spanking).   

Basically the back story is that we were talking about how Freud thought everything was about sex, and off the cuff I started drunkenly spouting off about how "The Twelve Days of Christmas" was a perfect example of a song that had a Freudian interpretation, and going through it day by day. 

Gayhusband thought it was funny, and made me write it down.  So, in the spirit of the season, here it is...I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, worship at my adorable feet.  If not...blame him.

A Freudian Interpretation of the Classic Song “The Twelve Days of Christmas”

First Day: A Partridge in a Pear Tree

A tree is an over sized bush.  An over sized bush represents a woman's pubic hair (perhaps unruly?).  The bird in the bush is the clitoris.  Small bird in a tree-he can't find the clitoris.

Second Day: Two Turtle Doves

Two people having romantic sex (being "lovey dovey")

Third Day: Three French Hens

Menage a trois, obviously; the french, the invocation of three.

Fourth Day: Four Calling Birds

The four call girls he patronizes.

Fifth Day: Five Golden Rings

Obvious fear of commitment

Sixth Day: Six Geese a-Laying

An allusion to a woman’s fertility...the eggs dropping into or "laying" itself in the womb

Seventh Day: Seven Swans a Swimming

The sperm swimming towards the egg

Eighth Day: Eight Maids a Milking

Lactation, either that of a mother or a fetish relating to lactating women, most likely the latter

Ninth Day: Nine Ladies Dancing

Obsessed with strippers.

Tenth Day: Ten Lords a Leaping

Did someone visit a gay bar?

Eleventh Day: Eleven Pipers Piping

Someone did visit a gay bar and went piping (i.e. performed fellatio-perhaps in the bathroom?)

Twelfth Day: Twelve Drummers Drumming

Perhaps it was a leather bar, and someone was drummed on the ass?  Spanking fetish at any rate.

Diagnosis-patient is severely disturbed

Couples Counseling...session 1

Sexyhusband and I had our first couples counseling session this week.  For anyone who's ever seen a therapist, you know that while you can get a general feeling for the person, the first few sessions are basically an information dump.  You each have your non-negotiables, and you ensure that the person is compatible with them, but then you take it on faith to see where things will take you.

We first talked about couples counseling last July, which was the first time I seriously thought about ending our marriage.  But somehow excuses piled up, travel happened, and we found ways to blame the other for being a roadblock without actually getting anything done.  The impetus for finally doing so has been the increased strain since Sexyhusband's layoff last month.  I didn't talk about it here as it has taken Sexyhusband time to be okay with my sharing that.  While we are among the fortunate who have savings and are not in immediate dire financial straits, the sole breadwinner's job loss has been a source of additional stress in our lives and in our marriage.  Things deteriorated to the point where if we didn't find a couples counselor, it was unlikely our marriage would survive whatever move Sexyhusband's potential new job will require (all the current options are outside our home state/outside the US) much less 2010.  So we stopped making excuses and we got an appointment.

We could not find a marriage counselor on the KAP list (Kink Aware Professionals) so Sexyhusband did a lot of legwork to find the counselor we are working with.  While the website did not specifically mention kink or open marriages, there was enough other details (like work with the LGBT community) that we thought the counselor might be a good fit.

Counselor had three criteria in order to work with us

1-No one is having unnapproved extramarital sex

2-No one is unsafe in the home

3-No one came there with their mind made up to end the marriage (which is not to say that if we did make that decision Counselor wouldn't help us through it, but no walking in having decided it's over).

We needed to know that Counselor had worked with poly and kinky people.  Counselor is/had, although Counselor doesn't claim any sort of authority regarding either polyamory or kink.

There was a lot to talk about as to why our marriage is in trouble.  Not to blame the LM, but the transition to parents and a family of three has been much harder than we expected.  Beyond that, the LM has special needs that date back to her serious illness post-birth that still require a lot of follow up and attention.  Our communication has suffered.  Our time together has deteriorated to sitting next to each other, both on our individual laptops ignoring the Daily Show or laying in bed watching tv together.  We are both short on sleep as it's only after the individual time and the shared tv watching that we turn off the light and go to sleep---but then we begin to talk and before you know it, it's 4am before we fall asleep.  There's the strain of money with Sexyhusband out of a job.  There's resentment about lack of personal time on my part--while I am a stay at home mom and love my daughter, I need some time off and I don't really get much of it and what I do get is mostly after the baby goes to bed at 9pm (she's a night owl like her parents).  Last but not least (or even all) is the fact that we're both bipolar (type 2, which is a far milder version that the type 1 that everyone thinks of when they think of the disease) and are both still working on fine-tuning our meds with our pyschiastrists.

Counselor asked where we stood in terms of the marriage...and we both said that we are both very invested in saving it.

An interesting insight Counselor had is when it was posited that I might think about divorce as a way of trying to establish control in a world where I feel I lack it.  I'm not sure that it's 100% true, but I do think of it most often when I'm really overwhelmed and under tremendous stress.

Regardless, Counselor seems to be someone we can work with.  Sorry to use the word Counselor instead of a gendered pronoun but in talking about something so personal, I feel like keeping that fact neutral is one way I can file off the serial numbers, as it were. 

The bad news is that we won't have another session until after the holidays, but that's the bitch of starting something like this around this time of year.

3 years...

November 28, 2006...I finished my NanoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) novel and took a deep breath, realizing I had written more than 50,000 words in one month.  It had been two years since I had done any major writing, and I didn't want to stop and fall into a dry spell like I had in 2004 when I had gotten too busy with my first real teaching job.  I was on medical leave from my job at the time due to back surgery, and I was trying to reconnect sexually with Sexyhusband.  So in the late hours of 11/28/06 I began to work on a blog, and at 1am on 11/29/09 I published my very first entry.  I wrote two other entries that night; one on the then recently appointed head of family planning (who ended up stepping down less than a year later) and one recounting my experiences at a Canadian strip club a few weeks previous.

I had no expectations of what DN would turn into, and I certainly didn't know that I'd be writing this entry three years later.

My first year, I wrote a Best of the Blog Year One entry,

The second year (a bit late) I did the same; Best of the Blog, Year Two

My third year as a sexblogger found me in the very murky territory of being a sex blogger who wasn't having a lot of sex, or spending a lot of energy thinking about sex.  In fact, the LM was still in the hospital on the second anniversary of the blog.  And while I don't want to blame a (now) toddler for my lack of interest in blogging, the truth is that becoming a mom, especially a mom to a "special needs" kid takes a toll (she was deathly ill at a week of age, and there has been a great deal of fallout from that in the last year--the good news is that she's in great shape now, and testing above her age range in everything, but she still needs to be monitored by a team of almost 10 different specialists).  Like most people when I divert a great deal of energy to deal with a crisis in my life, my sex drive pays the price.  I also spent about six months of this past year on Zoloft, which lowered my libido.

However, the year hasn't been all bad, either.  I became the sex and parenting columnist for Carnal Nation. 

Upon reflection, the best things I wrote this year were about being a parent and being sexual.  They were the most honest and most genuine.

The thing I struggle with most these days is what to talk about here.  I'm being paid to talk about sex and parenting at Carnal Nation so I hesitate before writing about it here.  I have stories, but am not generally in a place to write about them when it comes to writing red hot sexual adventures material.  I'm really interested in sex and politics, but I'm not sure how many of you are interested in continuing to read my very predictable views on abortion and gay marriage.  

I've tried setting up a schedule and I planned to do NaNo...I've failed at both.  But I don't want to write about that, because I'm sick and tired of writing apologies and excuses.

For now DN will continue, but expect the blog to evolve and change as I figure out what I want to do here, and how I want to talk about sex and parenting here without shooting myself in the foot with regards to column material over at Carnal Nation.

For now, allow me to present...

Best of the Blog, Year 3 (2008-2009)

December 2008

• Sexuality Post-Birth  I wrote this before the exhaustion and the Zoloft kicked in.  I included it because I love who that girl was...so optimistic.
• Between a Rock and a Handjob  I picked this because of the honesty.  I write about feeling like I was failing at being a mom and a sexual partner.

February/March 2009

I published the first 10 chapters of Haunted Dreams (my novel in progress) on the blog...

• Prologue
• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Chapter 10

For what it's worth...is anyone still interested in seeing more of this?  I've thought about scrapping it lately, and if anyone thinks it's worth finishing, please speak up.

March 2009

• Ask DN #1  How do you teach a guy to be good in bed?

April 2009

• Ask DN #2 BDSM for Newbies

May 2009

• Anyone looking for a guy to Marry?  A website on the back of a car gave me something to laugh about for weeks.

July 2009

This was when I stopped trying to keep my identities as a sexual being a parent separate from each other and began talking about sex as a parent.  This is what led to my column and my growing comfort as a parent who's sexual, and who blogs about that sexuality.

• Being a new mom (the immediate aftermath) and a handjob in the hospital 
• A hospitalized child does not make for a sex of overly sexual parentsPPD and sex drive
• PPD and its effect on sex drive
• Sex in front of the baby...not as weird as I thought it would be
• Didn't I used to be kinky?

September 2009

• Reproductive Freedom  I talk about why I chose to volunteer at a women's clinic

October 2009

• Feel the Love  My response to the JP who wouldn't marry an interracial couple as a member of a interracial couple.

November 2009

• Why it sucks to be a poor woman today  Discussing the Stupak amendment in the House's Healthcare bill.

Who's Nailin' Paylin? Review

In the spirit of Sarah Palin's "book" coming out this past week, I thought I would take a moment to review the porn movie "Who's Nailin' Paylin?"

It's a toss up as to whether either piece of work could be construed as "entertainment;" both would serve well in leiu of waterboarding.  Personally I'd rather be waterboarded than sit through the movie or read/listen to the entire book (especially if Palin herself was reading it).

Lisa Ann does a decent Palin impersonation, although not nearly as good as Tina Fey's, but she was hardly hired for her comedic timing. 

The movie opens with "Paylin" sitting on her couch in Alaska when there's a knock at the door.  (Sidebar, why is it always a knock at the door?)  She opens the door to find two Russian soldiers.  Their "car has broken down" (camera pans to a Russian tank with some smoke coming out of it) and they want to call home.  They sit on the couch (possibly pull out a bottle of vodka...I lost track of the stereotypes pretty quickly) and start saying cheesy lines like "I want to rearrange the alphabet so that u and i are together" and then the three have sex.

That's about as far as I made it before I couldn't take it anymore and ended up switching to a bizzare and dark porn called "Throat: A cautionary tale" which I'll review later.

So, if you're looking for bad porn...or maybe just something to punish your spouse with...I'd recommend "Who's Nailin' Paylin".  Otherwise, save your cash and your orgasms for better fare.

Why it sucks to be a poor woman today especially

While I am thrilled to see us moving toward national health care, I am disgusted that we're going to throw women, especially poor women under the bus to do it. 

The Stupak Amendment

As drafted, the measure denied the use of federal subsidies to purchase abortion coverage in policies sold by private insurers in the new insurance exchange, except in cases of incest, rape or when the life of the mother was in danger. (source The Huffington Post)

Allow me to share an important statistic with you...

Overall unintended pregnancy rates have stagnated over the past decade, yet unintended pregnancy increased by 29% among poor women while decreasing 20% among higher-income women.  It also increased disproportionately among Black and Latina women. (Source Guttmacher Institute.)

So basically if you are among the most likely candidates to need the government subsidized insurance policies, you are also in the highest risk group for unintended pregnancy.  And rather than have the option of a perfectly legal and safe medical procedure, you will be screwed again. 

An abortion costs about $500.  For some women, that is more than they make in a month.  If you make minimum wage, which is 7.25 an hour and are lucky enough to work 40 hours a week, you're clearing 290 a week before taxes.  Most likely it's closer to $203 after taxes, which we'll call $200 for ease of math.  That's 800 a month.  An abortion is then 63% of your monthly take home pay for that month.  Where are you going to get that money?  Working a full time job at minimum wage is not a worst case scenario, either...in many cases I've dealt with, it's a BEST case scenario.

Let's talk about real reasons women get abortions....(source Guttmacher Institute)  Women could (and did) cite more than one reason, so it doesn't add up to 100%

A--The I already have kids and can't take care of another one---I empathize here.  In fact, personally I have a lot more respect for these moms than I do for the ones I met when teaching in an urban school district who just kept popping them out with different dads every few kids.  I don't care what Octo-mom says or what the Duggars say...there is a limit to how many kids you really can give individualized attention to, and one of your jobs as a parent is to know when to stop having kids.  Your first responsibility is to the kids you already have.  If you have too many kids, it's time to think about permanent birth control (Earth to Michelle Duggar...your vagina isn't meant to be a clown car--19 is TOO MANY CHILDREN).  This is the most common reason cited when women are asked why they're having an abortion.  74% say it's obligation to others.  69% say it's because a baby would interfere with school/employment or ability to care for other dependents.  38% cited being done with childbearing.

B-I can't afford a baby right now--Those right to lifers who want us to keep our unborn children?  Where are they when it comes time to raise them?  Because if I recall correctly they're usually the ones railing against welfare moms, calling them leeches and voting against programs like Schip which would have given insurance to poor kids.  As the child of a single mom who grew up on welfare, I can honestly say that the best thing my mom for me was to not have another child...  Had I gotten pregnant in college I would have had an abortion without a second thought.  I had to declare bankruptcy, something that's only coming off my credit report in the next year, so I could finish school...you bet your ass I would have had an abortion to stay in school and avoid the kind of renting a trailer, working at Burger King, buying my kid's "good" clothes and shoes at Kmart because we had to.  73% say it's because they can't afford a child.  69% say it's because a baby would interfere with school/employment or ability to care for other dependents.

C--Abusive Partners--in the case of the abusive partner, they need an abortion that they can claim was a miscarriage (I've seen it and anyone who's worked at a clinic can tell you this is an all too common story).  They can't suddenly make 500 dollars disappear from the money, especially if the partner controls the purse strings (which they often do).  We make sure that what they wouldn't prefer is to keep the baby and get their asses to a women's shelter, but all to often you can't change their mind.  They know that they don't want to bring a baby into an abusive home, but just can't get out themselves (volumes about the psychology of this have been written) 48% Cite being a single parent or relationship problems

D--The partner left them--The boyfriend who promised to marry them and help them raise the baby when they told them about the baby decides a few weeks later that no, they'd rather be young and party.  The woman thinks about it and does not want to be a single mom or can not raise a child on her own for whatever reason (I need to finish college, I already have three kids, whatever) and needs an abortion. 48% Cite being a single parent or relationship problems

E--This pregnancy was an unwanted accident.  Sometimes you're done having kids and use alternative birth control.  Sometimes it fails and you get pregnant and you don't want any more kids.  So you have an abortion.  38% cited being done with childbearing.

People like Stupak just don't think when they think about abortion.  It's all emotion or calculated pandering to his base.  It has nothing to do with the real life experiences and rationales of the real women who are going to clinics every day.  Because they just don't care.

Here's the thing.  Republicans are bitching about how much health insurance for all will cost...  You want to save money?  COVER ABORTIONS.  $500 is a hell of a lot cheaper than the cost of a woman's prenatal care and delivery plus 18 years of care for the child. 

New Column at Carnal Nation...

Why I wish you'd stop calling my kid pretty...

click over at Carnal Nation to see why.

The problems with buying porn overseas

Even when it says all regions, it may not play on your DVD player at home...

Which is why Sexyhusband bought a new DVD player at Target this past weekend...specifically to play the porn we bought in the UK.  The jury is still out on whether this is amusing, sad, or just a *headdesk* moment....

It will probably depend on the merits of said porn....

You better be worth it, Sex Actually

Happy Birthday Little Mistress and NaNo

You might be interested to know that a certain LM has turned one recently!

While I don't talk about her much here, she has transformed so much in this past month from a teeny infant unable to hold her head up to a walking (god help me) talking (sort of) toddler.  It has been a truly astounding and humbling experience.  One of the saddest parts for me about keeping DN and my real life identity separate is that I can't share a picture of the little girl she has become with you.  If you've been a good blog friend/long time commenter (Christina, Juno, etc) email me and I'll send you one privately...

*******

In other news, we are into November.  I have accepted the NaNo challenge, but put my own twist on it.  My goal is to add 50k words to the novel.  For those who haven't read the Prologue and 10 current posted chapters, start here.  As I finish chapters, I will publicly post them and each Monday I'll post how many words I've been able to add to keep myself honest and accountable.  With luck I'll have a full first draft by the end of the month.

Abortion Clinic Buffer Zone Laws

A buffer zone, for those who may not be familiar with the term, is a bubble or a zone around the door of an abortion clinic which protesters (and counter protesters) may not cross.  Some countries, states and cities have bubble zones, which state that a person approaching a clinic has an imaginary "bubble" of x number of feet around them which can not be violated.  Others have a specific zone of x feet from the entrance where protesters and counter protesters may not cross, which local to me are painted on the ground and maintained by the municipality.

I have been lucky enough to not have to deal with a bubble buffer zone, although I've heard the stories.  Most bubble buffer zone laws have exceptions to the bubble that say a protester may approach the clinic patient if the contact is invited.  The laws are murky enough that in many cases eye contact may be enough to be construed as invitation for contact.  I can attest that walking through a group of protesters is a scary and confusing experience and one could easily make eye contact if the right question or provocation is made.

The buffer zones I do have experience with are ones that are a fixed distance from a clinic entrance, marked by a painted line on the ground.  In theory the laws are written that the protesters must be a minimum of the buffer zone away, but in reality the protesters are right up against that line.  I have experienced one protester.  I have experienced three.  I have experienced ten.  I have been lucky enough to never have experienced the once monthly day when an anti-choice group busses in a large number of people and barricades are set up, but I can only imagine.  One protester or two is annoying, even irritating, but not scary.  Ten is frightening.  More would be nightmarish...which is exactly what they're trying for--to scare people out of getting an abortion; not giving a damn that most of the people walking through the door are just there to refill their birth control (without which there will be more abortions...)

On paper 35 feet, which is the law in my home state sounds like a reasonable distance.  But crossing it while people are all heckling you, chanting the lord's prayer, screaming that you're going to hell, that you're going into Satan's den, that you're a murder...makes you realize that something closer to 100 feet would be better.

The anti-choice faction says that buffer zones interfere with their right to free speech, but I don't understand how.  If they have to stand across the street, that only affects where they're expressing their opinions, not that they can't express them.  I spent 8 years disagreeing with President Bush's policies, but I wasn't allowed to protest in the middle of the Oval Office...or even on the grounds of the White House.  If I had wanted to protest, I would have had to do it outside of a specific buffer zone as decided by the Secret Service.  Protesting where I was told to protest would not have quieted my opinion or silenced my voice, only directed where it was heard. 

The argument that it's affecting their free speech is smoke.  If they can't harass the women going in, then there's no enjoyment, no zing to their protest, no chance of reaction.  For example, with a bigger buffer zone, two weeks ago a protester wouldn't have been able to provoke a patient going into a Planned Parenthood clinic to the point where she punched the protester, which then allowed the protester to have the patient arrested and the anti-choice group the protester was a member of to publicly declare victory and get media attention locally and on their website. 

While we're on the topic of the protesters, can I just say how irritated I am with the sign holders who just LUUUUUUUURVE their signs that say the heart starts beating at 20 days with the mini baby in the picture on the sign.  WRONG WRONG WRONG.  The heart starts to beat somewhere around the end of the 5th week of development...around day 35.  And at that point, instead of the mini baby on your sign, the embryo looks like a comma.  I should know; I have two different ultrasounds from two different pregnancies both dating 6weeks 1 day and that's what you can see.  It doesn't even start to look like anything but a comma or a weird lizard like thing until around 12-13 weeks.  You're also lying about post-abortion trauma--the APA says so.

There is no law that says they have to say anything true, but I wish that more than 3 states would make sure that there was a law that made them scream their lies from a distance, even if it's only 35 feet.  Because free speech doesn't mean the freedom to stand between me and the door to the clinic and yell at me.

RIP kitty

Our kitty died in my arms today.  We made the choice to have her euthanized at home when it became clear that each day she was weaker and in more and more pain.  For my fellow feline enthusiasts...imagine a cat struggling to make the jump onto the bed, and trying to hide the fact that even a gentle petting hurt. 

I wish she could have lived forever...but I had 16 wonderful years with her, and I can at least take comfort in knowing that I was, as the shelter put it on the adoption paperwork, her "forever family."  She adopted Sexyhusband and the LM as they entered our life, but we were a team long before that.

The world is a little sadder today...

Feel the love...

An interracial couple was denied a marriage license in Lousiana out of concern for "their possible future kids"...

As a woman in an interracial marriage, unsurprisingly, this strikes a nerve for me for several reasons...

1-Loving v Virginia...otherwise known as the Supreme Court Case that ended race based marriage discrimination.

2-That interracial marriage is only seen as a black/white couple.  I know a couple where one partner is Brazilian and the other is White, one where one is Chinese and the other African American, my own marriage where I am white and my partner is Indian.  The JP involved in the story is very specific that he thinks of interracial couples as black/white couples.  This is a popular perception and it irritates me that our culture is so caught up in that binary that we rarely see interracial couples who aren't black/white portrayed in pop culture.  It's a small soapbox, but it bugs me.

3-The "for the kids" part of the argument. 

• Firstly it assumes that all married couples have kids, which is untrue.  Now, this couple *does* plan to have kids, but it's not like the JP would have married them had they not planned to have kids.
• Secondly, it's not like they couldn't have kids without being married.  Take, for example....ME.  I was born far outside the bonds of holy matrimony.  It's possible.  See when a sperm and a fertile egg meet, there isn't a ring check before implantation occurs.
• People who try to cloak their actions with a veneer of helping those without political voice, especially when those actions are malicious are cowards.  Have the courage of your convictions and say that you are against what used to be called miscegenation.  Which, by the way, is stupid because there's NO SUCH THING as a "pure" race.  The history of whiteness in this country is a fascinating topic for another day, and probably another blog, but the short point that I will make is that at one point or another Irish, Italians, and Jews were not considered white by mainstream America and that only changing dynamics in immigration allowed them to become perceived as such.  Beyond that, I will also add that most Americans would not be considered white if you apply the one drop rule (if you have one drop of non-white blood, you are that non-white race).  It's not actually because you give a damn about the kids, it's because you want to deflect criticism.

4-The citation is that interracial couples, in the JP's opinion, are more unstable.  The general  divorce rate is 50% or just over it.  There is some belief that interracial couples have a higher rate, but there  is absolutely no data to back it up.  There's no refusal to marry white couples because they have a higher divorce rate.  Why not only marry certain religions? 

5-The I have black friends part of the argument.  I'm sorry, but your litmus test of whether or not you qualify as a racist includes the following testimony... "they use my bathroom" ??!!!  I don't know where to begin analyzing that comment. 

Sorry Mr. Bardwell...you fail.  You have not convinced me that you have good intentions.  You have not convinced me that you are anything other than a racist trying (and failing) to portray himself as misunderstood now that national attention has fallen upon you.  Your JP license should be revoked.  You either choose to follow the law of the land, which is Loving V Virginia, or you admit that you are a racist and that your personal convictions don't allow you to do so, in which case you can no long represent the state of Lousiana as a JP.

Meanwhile, I'll hold you up as an example of how our country still has quite a road to travel in the area of race relations...I'm sure you'll understand; it's for the good of my child, an interracial child, so that she can grow up in a world less full of hatred than the one you did.

Read more at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/10/15/interracial-couple-denied_n_322784.html

   

As I always said...

Fat can be sexy..

Because it's just too damn funny not to share...

Real post this weekend...

Really?

Oklahoma...really?

Publicly posting the details of women's abortions online?

What, you couldn't pass a law forcing them to wear a scarlet A's instead?

Another sad post...

In what feels like a one-two punch, not only was this past week the anniversary of my miscarriage, but I also learned that my cat is dying of kidney failure.

I am, to say the very least, shell shocked...

My cat was adopted from a shelter when she was 8 weeks old and I was barely 15 years old.  In many ways, we were equally young.  Perhaps I'm still a child in my belief that she would live for years to come when she is either at the end or past the end of a normal lifespan for a cat.  She's been such an exceptional friend to me over the years that I suppose I felt that her lifespan would be equally exceptional.

I have been distracted, depressed, and tearful this past week as has Sexyhusband.  While he has known my cat for far less time, he is no less attached.  As she is his first pet, he is perhaps less prepared to deal with the coming weeks and months than I am.

For the moment we are attempting medical treatment that will keep her relatively pain free and feeling normal...medication and subcutaneous fluids daily.  At least we are until she shows us a sign that she isn't willing to keep fighting. 

Until you have had a pet who is like a child to you, it is hard to understand this level of grief and these sorts of expenses and efforts on behalf of a pet.  I remember one boy I dated in NYC, who met me during one of her few bouts of illness...I mentioned that I was worried about her to which he responded that she was "just a cat," and couldn't quite figure out why I cut our date short and was not interested in a second date.  She isn't just a cat...she has been a source of love and acceptance during those awkward and horrid teenage years when I felt unloved and unlovable.  She has let me sob my heartbreak into her fur on many occasions.  She has been the only "person" I knew in a new town.  We have spent hours laying on my various beds over the years, me reading and her curled up against my side purring.  She has been a source of comfort and of laughter.

But above all, she has been a friend, and I am heartsore at the idea of losing her.

New Column at Carnal Nation...

I've been waiting to tell you until it was posted, but I now have a regular column over at Carnal Nation.  My column, like my first article for them, is entitled "Sexy Mother," and will be a monthly column about sex and parenting.

This month's column is entitled Naked Truth...please go, read, and rate.

My sad anniversary

Two years ago today, I miscarried my first child.

I look at the LM and I know that I can't imagine my life without her, but sometimes I look at her and the spectre of my "lost" child hovers just out of sight.  S/he would be 6 months almost exactly to the day older than the LM, and the exact same age as a cousin of the LM.  I look at that cousin and wonder about mine.

Miscarriage holds a tricky place in our society.  It's a secret because it ruins the perfect fiction of "you get pregnant, you have a healthy baby 9 months later."  Women don't talk about their miscarriages.  The range of emotion about the miscarriages ranges from thinking it's just something that happens and not a huge deal to deep and raw grief; I fall somewhere in the middle.

This day two years ago was so difficult for me emotionally not just because I had lost a child, but because I felt lost and betrayed by my body.  I wrote about the loss of feminine identity caused by my miscarriage here.

This day last year was somewhat surreal because I was heavily pregnant with the LM and while I lay in bed looking at the few ultrasound pictures I have of my first child, and holding the blanket my mother had started crocheting for him/her (I asked her to stop and give me what she had done, which seemed fitting...an unfinished child and an unfinished blanket), crying and being kicked by the LM all at the same time.  I wrote about the peace I was beginning to find with my loss, which was growth from the previous year's unadulterated pain.

Today...

I watch a little girl with dark hair that is starting to curl take shaky steps.  She weaves her way the seven steps to me, flings herself into my lap and pressed a kiss to my arm as it comes around her to lift her.  Her brown eyes light up and a giggle spills from her soft pink rosebud mouth as I lift her into the air and say "I love you sooo big!"

I love this little girl with a ferocity I didn't know I had.  I love Sexyhusband passionately, but he knew how to walk and talk and take care of himself when we met.  The LM brings forth a protective love, a joy in small things like the noise a wooden spoon makes against a metal mixing bowl.  Who waved bye-bye for the first time this past week.

I can't imagine not having her...

But it doesn't change that I grieve for the child I never really got to know.  That child was equally loved in utero.  The child that survived weeks longer than my OB at the time predicted.  Who fought so valiantly to stay with us, but in the end who couldn't.  Who stayed long enough for us to say good-bye to.  Who has a name, and an ornament on our tree each year.  Who is still my child, and missed.

I no longer think about my other child every day, as I did in the weeks and months that followed my loss.  But there are moments when the grief will spring out at me, like a hidden tiger, and cuts me to my heart, where the loss of him/her has left a crack.

However, I take a great deal of comfort in the following, which I originally posted last year

There is a Buddhist belief that a miscarriage occurs when a soul is so close to achieving Nirvana that all they need to do so is be loved once more, and then they are released into Nirvana.  I don't buy into organized religion...and generally even go so far as to refer to myself as an atheist...but there is a not so small part of me that fervently hopes this is true.  I like the idea of my first child being happy somewhere, somehow.

Lost child...We love you, we remember you, and we will never forget you...

Not so great...

I told Sexyhusband after our first date that I wanted to be "just friends."

I've said that on many occasions.  To guys who had exceptionally bad breath, body odor, spent the afternoon talking to my tits or other girl's tits rather than my face, or various other personal infractions that no sane woman could blame me for.  I've also said it because "it" was missing...some kind of spark or sign that we would be good together.

Sexyhusband and I had that in spades online before our first date. 

The date itself?  Meh...

A decent dinner, fairly good conversation, a kiss I initiated by my car afterwards.  But nothing that screamed "future husband," or even "boyfriend material."

The difference between Sexyhusband and those other guys I'd declined a second date with was that the man I'd gotten to know online haunted me.  I missed the long emails, the exciting and interesting IM chats.  I wanted to date that guy.  Maybe I had missed something in person?

I groveled and asked for a second date, and got one.

It wasn't until the second date that there was electricity and heat.

I've been thinking a lot about this lately.  It has been 4.5 years since our first date.  Like all relationships, neither of us is exactly who we were when this started.   There are changes that are for the good--I've become fiscally more responsible, he's become more social.  But there are also changes that feel like a pair of jeans that you're now 10 lbs too heavy to still wear. 

There are many days, it seems, where I look at Sexyhusband and I feel a lot like I did after our first date.  Nice guy, nothing actually wrong with him, but there's something missing.  That he isn't the guy who I connected with over the past few years.  That something, someone...is different, and not in a way that fits.

Sexyhusband was away this past week for work.  There were so many things that were easier without him.  There was no one to argue my parenting calls with.  There was no additional person to clean up after besides myself and my daughter.  I even reclaimed our bedroom by moving the LM out of it.

The days were great, in many ways, but the nights were lonely.  I would clean until I was exhausted, and then lay in bed wide awake until 3 or 4 in the morning because there was no husband to share it with.

On the other hand, he came back yesterday and we had a fight before sleep last night, and the loneliness I felt in our bed last night was just as bad, and just like when he wasn't there, I was awake until 4 in the morning.

It probably goes without saying that our sex life is tanking, which is perhaps the greatest irony after being offered the chance to write about sex and parenting for another website.

We need the equivalent of a second date again, but having a child, especially one with some special needs, has made for a space where there isn't enough time, money, or energy to do it.  We can't even seem to manage a date once a week. 

Admitting we need couples counseling feels like admitting failure.  We have tried to fight for the relationship on our own, tried to create commitments to each other to create time and ways of rekindling our spark, and failed. 

There is nothing about marriage that's easy.

Which isn't to say that I'm not trying to fight for it...

We're seeking out a couples counselor, as we can't seem to fix this on our own.  But I can't shake the feeling that needing to do so is a sign of weakness and of failure. 

My "woah" moment....

After the LM was born, I had a Mirena inserted.  It's an IUD (intra-uterine device) that emits a low dose hormone that basically cons your uterus into thinking your pregnant, eventually stopping your period.  It hurt like hell for about 5 minutes to put it in (they had to force your cervix open to insert the IUD.  It was the right choice for me as it's birth control I don't have to think about for 5 years, and if/when I decide to get pregnant again, once it is removed by a doctor, my fertility should return in fairly short order.  The only matienance that it requires is that you're supposed to reach up and feel for the strings each month to reassure yourself that it is still there.

This is all relevant background information because the two following things happened in Scotland

1-I felt fairly nauseous for a few days and then I threw up.  I'm not the throw up when you're sick type, and I was the puke for 40 weeks straight even on meds when you're pregnant type. 

2-I reached up and couldn't feel the strings.

I had a fairly hysterical night as the local drug stores were closed and there was no way to procure a pregnancy test at 10pm on a Thursday in Edinburgh.  (Dear Edinburgh--WTF?)  Getting pregnant right now is very much not in my plans, and of course I flashed to the worst case scenario of being pregnant.  The next day I ran out to Boots and bought a two pack of pregnancy tests.  I really wish I were exaggerating when I tell you that they were both defective and gave me no result.  I also wish I could tell you that that didn't make me even more crazy, but I can't.  I had to wait until Saturday to take the tests back (and wasn't that a fun conversation as I stood there with my stroller and my ten month old and my plastic baggy of two broken pregnancy tests) because I hadn't taken the second test until that evening.  Of course the replacement tests worked and of course I wasn't pregnant.

But then I decided that it must have been a very lucky break and since I couldn't feel the strings the IUD must have fallen out. (Note--this is very very rare)

Have I ever mentioned that I'm a pregnancy hypochondriac?  That it was bad before I ever got pregnant, but after getting pregnant twice on the first and second months we were trying respectively with pregnancies #1 and #2, it has only gotten worse as Sexyhusband and I are apparently very fertile together?

So the very first thing I did upon re-entry to the US is to call Planned Parenthood and make an appointment.

It was my first time at Planned Parenthood, so we had to do the sexual history thing.  I know that part of the sexual history form is number of partners, but I was still shocked when I realized my answer to the question "How many partners have you had since you became sexually active" was "50, 60, 70?  I don't know...I kind of stopped keeping track after a while."

And then I stopped and thought, and realized that no, I really couldn't remember.  I couldn't even come close to constructing an accurate list if I tried.  That I think it's below 100, but I know for sure that my "number" is higher than 50.

I had a Keanu Reeves moment...

Tagged...

I was tagged by Evie, so here goes....

This is the 7 things about you meme, which basically asks you to reveal 7 things your readers don't know about you.

1-That my kid started walking this week.  I realize I owe you a better entry than this, but it's the best I can do now that the LM is fully mobile and I'm running from dawn to dark because of it.  I'm insanely proud and insanely terrified.

2-I'm considering bariatric surgery.  I realize that I'm the same erotica writer who penned Fat Can be Sexy, something I believe with all my heart, but there are some medical issues (I'm borderline diabetic, and that my low back is still weak 3 years post surgery) that are very much weight related, and something that I haven't proven able to solve on my own.  I'm currently working on emotional eating-identifying what's really going on when I have the urge to binge, and some behavioral therapy, but part of me believes that surgery will also have to be part of the solution.  This isn't something I take lightly, or will jump into, but it probably isn't something any of my readers would expect me to do.

3-That Sexyhusband got to go into adult stores in London but I didn't.  Not because of a lack of interest, but because I'd assigned him the job of finding me British Porn.  I love the accent, and porn with that accent (especially some gay male porn) rings my bell.  I wanted it to be a surprise, and if I went in, I would've started looking and second guessing his choices, so I stayed out.  And I'm surprisingly okay with that.

4-In Edinburgh we were denied entry to a strip club that billed itself as an Italian restaurant/strip club because we were wearing sneakers (which I didn't have a choice about as I had a stress fracture in my foot and had an orthodic insert in my shoe).

5-Also in Edinburgh, we caught a one man show by Ashley Hames, who was the host of a show in the UK called Sin Cities.  Interestingly enough, he's a fairly vanilla guy who hosted a show about all sorts of fetishes.  As part of the show, he had his testicles nailed to a board, among other things.  But his show was kicked off the air due to a letter scolding him for such indecency on the telly.  The show was fascinating, and the best part was hearing someone who didn't identify as kinky talk very passionately about kink and how people who practice it aren't hurting anyone, and referring to us as sexual pioneers.  He has a book called "Sin Cities" which you can only get used here in the US, but I'm hoping it's as good as his one man show.  If so, I'll report back, once my copy arrives.

6-My therapist thinks I might be on the mild end of the bi-polar spectrum.  I'm pretty unnerved about starting a mood stabilizer, but I am also eager to feel less black inside, and less lost.  However, I have decided not to start it until I get a second opinion, as I also feel like she's diagnosing me too quickly.

7-I'm such an Anglophile that I now own all 7 books in the Harry Potter series, The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe, and Alice Through the Looking Glass in the "original English" as opposed to American English.

I'm tagging anyone who wants to do it...just leave a comment with the link if you decide to take the challenge.

Reproductive Freedom...

For some time now, I have been choosing to donate my "free" time to a pro-choice organization.  I do this rather than go see a movie, do some shopping, or run errands that would be easier to do without my daughter along...or write, for that matter. 

Why?

Because it needs to be done.  Because I can.  Because it's my way of thanking all the women who have come before me to give me reproductive freedom.

Reproductive freedom is at the root of all female freedom.  When a woman can control her fertility she is less likely to end up in poverty.  When a woman controls her fertility she is acknowledged as a full person, capable of making decisions, rather than a passive vessel from which future generations will spring.  She has the freedom to work and to progress in her career, only taking child related breaks on her terms.  Economists agree that a key step in a country's progress is female control over fertility.

You may argue that in this day and age, control over fertility means access to the pill and other contraception.  I disagree, saying you need to include access to abortion to have full reproductive freedom.

Abortion isn't a pleasant procedure to contemplate.  In later stages of pregnancy, the procedure become downright gruesome. 

However, a woman should not be held hostage to her body because she was raped, had a contraception failure, or made a bad decision. 

The right would like us all to give these unwanted children up for adoption, which makes for a pretty fantasy.  Of course, that fantasy only works if you assume that every child, regardless of physical, emotional, or behavioral needs would be adopted.  That every child, regardless of the parent's ethnic background(s) would be adopted.  The truth is that children with special needs, children of mixed race, and minority children are not as desirable to prospective parents. 

Putting all that aside for a moment, it assumes something far more insidious...that women need only step back and gestate and all will go well.  Anyone who thinks that has never been pregnant.  Never experienced the literal growing pains of a uterus.  Never become diabetic with pregnancy (and as someone who stuck herself a grand total of 14 times a day-10 for blood sugar checks and 4 to give myself shots of insulin I can attest to what it's like to feel like a pincushion).  Never puked for all 40 weeks of pregnancy (I know what it's like to come close to being hospitalized because I was practically dehydrated from all the puking).  Never had the heartburn.  Never had their lungs infringed upon by a 3rd trimester fetus.  Never gone through labor. Never experienced the joys of having their vaginal walls tear as the baby entered the world.

It's also a pretty fantasy where no woman ever gets pre-eclampsia.  Never gets diagnosed with cancer while pregnant.  Never is faced with a situation where it's your life and death on the line.  Keep the baby and you both die, or abort the baby and you live...which would you choose?

There's no discussion of where restrictions on reproductive freedom would end.  These "pro-lifers" are often the same people rallying against "big government," saying that the government has no right to get involved in personal affairs.  But what is more personal than a pregnancy?  How would they force me to stay pregnant?  Would there be a law that all women of child bearing age take folic acid, just in case?  What if I forget to take my prenatal vitamin?  Chose not to control my pregnancy induced diabetes?  Would I be sent to jail for negligence?

What about miscarriage?  How would they prove the difference between a natural miscarriage and the ingestion of herbs known since time immemorial to cause "accidents" for pregnant women?  Would every D&C (such as I had after my first pregnancy did not pass naturally after her/his heart stopped beating) be cause for a police investigation?

I don't know how it ends, except that I suspect it would look a lot like "A Handmaid's Tale" by Margaret Atwood.

And so I volunteer.

Each time I volunteer I park my car near the clinic.  I scan the perimeter of the clinic for protesters.  The legal line is drawn on the ground in yellow paint, and I often see the protesters put a foot over it, or pace it like an angry lion pacing his too-small cage at the zoo.  A frequent protester is an elderly woman, who often gets away with more small transgressions because it would be bad press to have her arrested for every small infraction.

I enter the double doors and pass through a metal detector.  I hand my purse to a security guard for inspection.  I sign in using my first name and last initial only...for my protection.  I exchange my id for a badge that will open the elevator or give me a code to use on the numerical pad that changes the order of it's numbers regularly.  I know where the panic buttons are in case of emergency.  I know when to call 911. 

My path does not lead me through the waiting room, but I've been there as a patient.  There is an air of sadness, and quiet resignation.  No one is happy to go to the abortion clinic.  Relieved, yes...but never celebratory. 

I work in an area far removed from the medical procedures.  It could be any office.  There's a water cooler, a copier that breaks frequently, staplers that jam, files that need alphabetizing, and envelopes that need stuffing.  Like any non-profit, there's money to be raised and lobbying to be done on our behalf. 

But there are also industrial shredders, and no piece of paper is thrown away without first being shredded.  Those who dislike what happens behind our doors could harass a doctor, a patient, an employee, or a volunteer like me. 

When my time is done, I use my badge to descend to the main floor, and exchange a few words with the guard as I pass back my badge and sign out, receiving my ID once more.  I push the heavy doors to the street open, and again glance around to look for protesters before making my way back to the car.

I drive back to my sitter's home to pick up the little girl I love more than any other child in this world.  Because a morning away from her to help fight to secure her reproductive freedom is a far better use of my time than getting a manicure.

It sounds even worse out of context...

"Please give me a cracker!?  I just licked your urine!"

I can't even begin to explain the context of that comment...but I know it sounds worse (and thus more amusing to me) out of context.  I'll let your filthy filthy minds try to come up with an explanation...they'll be far better than the truth.

We arrived home safe and sound...and I will be posting within the next 48 hours with my promised schedule and such. 

Nerd Love...

Sexyhusband is planning a trip to the strip club capital of the universe, also known as Portland, Oregon in a few weeks time.  After the just absurd travel schedule we've had this summer, and the fact that my cat thinks I've died and left her with a friend, I have elected not to join him.  I also would like to avoid the chance of getting puked on mid-flight as happened the last time we flew cross country--guess who was stupid enough to not have a spare outfit for the baby or herself?  That's right--ME!!

We were discussing this in bed tonight.  He was kissing me, and murmured how much he was going to miss me.

"Get a lap dance for me," I said between kisses.

He responded "I like the idea, but I don't know if I'll be able to.  I might be too busy hacking."

For those not married to professional geeks, hacking is computer programming.

To clarify---my husband is such a geek that he is flying across the country to sit around and write computer code in the same room as a bunch of other geeks.  He will be having so much fun doing this, that despite a massive sex drive and carte blanche to get lap dances, he "may not be able to find the time to get one."

"I don't even know how to begin blogging about this....." I said as I smacked my forehead with my hand.

Nerd Love, ladies and gentlemen...nerd love.

I haz a sad...

My blog is far too smutty for google ads, but as we learned this week, it is not smutty enough to be blocked by T-Mobile's content blocker in Europe on smartphones.

I guess I need to get cracking.

Come read me at Carnal Nation!

So, I've been babbling on about this whole motherhood and sexuality thing here in a vaguely incoherent way for quite a while now.  But I finally put it all together as a coherent, professional article, which you can read (and digg, and vote on) at Carnal Nation.

Click here to read "Sexy Mother"

As a side note...we're traveling again and I'll be out of country until 9/12.  Expect (continuing) spotty posting until then.  On one hand we've had an amazing summer of travel (and yes, with the baby the whole time) but my poor blog has definitely been suffering a perfect storm of really difficult private stuff that makes blogging feel like talking around a gag, travel and the spotty internet access that comes with it, and when we haven't been traveling it's been all about prepping for the next trip and getting all the real life nonsense done in between trips.

I will make a solemn promise though...once we're back, I'll figure out a regular posting schedule, publicly commit to it and you can hold me accountable if I don't stick with it.

Uncircumsized cock is Un-American?

Oh, you Birthers...always giving me things to laugh about in a world where there are so many serious things to worry about, like the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the economy, whether my daughter will have reproductive rights, whether all people will ever get the right to marry....YOU think I should be worried about Obama's cock. 

Mmmm...Obamacock....

Sorry, got off on a tangent there...literally

Right...Birthers, for those of you blessedly out of the loop on this not-a-news-story (why is CNN always talking about them?)---are people who believe that there is a massive conspiracy, and that Obama was actually born in Kenya, and therefore is not an American, and therefore should not be President, and if we could all just go over to Sarah Palin's house and spy on Russia that the world would be better if aliens just came and abducted him...or something like that. 

Birthers have now decided that what makes a person a true, blue, red-blooded American is not the color of your complexion but how much foreskin you have. Commenters (and circumcised Americans) over at Free Republic struck on a revelation yesterday: if Barack Obama has not been circumcised, then he must not have been born in the United States. Why? Because all of their boys were circumcised.

Hey Birthers...Sexyhusband has something to say to you...

American TV Sucks

As an American, I often forget how much American TV really does suck. 

However, as I sit in my hotel room in Scotland, watching a show called "You have been watching: The 90's A Warning from History" laughing my ass off, I am reminded how much better tv can be.  Of course, the show we're watching is about how bad British TV was in the past...

The thing that struck me, and inspired me to post is that when we tuned in, they were specifically talking about sex on tv.  They featured a game show where some dude dressed like Elvis (Fat Elvis, not hot young Elvis) took off a piece of clothing each round and at the end took off his briefs and swung his cock around.  They also talked about the televised version of Lady Chatterly's Lover and other erotic tv offerings. 

For those not in the US, we have two types of tv...broadcast and cable.  You would be hard pressed to find a naked breast on broadcast tv, much less a cock.  Cable tends to dance up to the edge with some for pay channels (HBO and Cinemax) do some soft core stuff where you'll see female nudity but it's incredibly rare to see male frontal nudity.  So for me, even though I consider myself fairly worldly, it's jaw dropping that something like that is just on a regular television channel.

The rules on language are also much more relaxed here.  In the space of a few minutes I heard "cock" "fuck" and a funny exchange about internet porn.  In the US, you just don't get that.  I recall an episode of "The Daily Show" where John Stewart was holding a dildo and the dildo was blured out because Comedy Central doesn't do swears.  Even some cable channels, like USA, when they rebroadcast shows like "Sex and the City" edit so there isn't as much nudity and pull out the swears.

I think it also strikes me that in the news last week was a discussion of how French women aren't going topless on the beach anymore and are embracing "prudite" (or being prudes).  I have a feeling that the American standard of prudishness and that of French women's aren't even close.  Hell, the state I live in doesn't even allow strippers within 6 feet of the client.

Anyways...I'm very jet lagged and babbly, so I'll just stop writing now.  More updates to come.

Progress and a laugh

Several things have come to light recently that may help explain our recent marital troubles...and none of them have to do with sex, ironically.  My "depression" may actually have been misdiagnosed, and my problems are most likely a combination of poor coping skills (my family is all about repression, being a martyr, or falling to pieces--things I am guilty of), depression, and possibly a mood disorder--something on the milder end of the bipolar spectrum.  Sexyhusband has his own issues, which are his to talk about, but also relate to being misdiagnosed and medication aggravating rather than helping something.

*head desk head desk head desk*

Sometimes I wonder what's worse...not getting help for something, or getting the wrong help?

At any rate, we are about to flit to Europe for 3 weeks, and hopefully I'll have better posting stamina away from my day to day grind.

And now for the laugh...

You know you're kinky parents when...

---Your infant daughter has a habit of spreading her legs wide....and you refer to it as practicing her stripper moves...and further joke about stripping through college to pay the bills

---You refer to the aforementioned daughter's playroom as her "playspace"

---She sucks on a toy and you find it mildly disturbing (as some of these toys are fairly phallic, have you noticed?)

And for a further laugh...

When she whines to be put down, and you do so, but then look down just in time to see her pick up your vibrator, which you'd forgotten you'd discarded on the floor next to your bed after you came last night.  You grab it and automatically say "No!  Yucky!" and then cringe and worry if you've sent a sex-negative message.