The PG-13 Warning is in Full Effect!

WARNING: This post is about s-e-x.

So I was reading one of my very favoritest blogs, Confessions From a Working Mom, and she blogged about shhhhh! yesterday.  Really, it was sex, but she didn't want to say "the s-word."  I'll say it though.  SEX.  See?  It's okay! 

Her post got me to thinking about how a sex life can be so dramatically altered by having a baby.  And then I got to thinking how there can be a million zillion different things that can impact a couple's life together and ultimately alter their sex life.  And if that's the case, then we're always, always going to have excuses as to why we aren't up to it.

So I kept thinking.  We can come up with so many reasons to not have sex with our husbands.  And many of them are understandable and totally valid.  Others, not so much.  But no matter what the reason, maybe -- maybe -- we should stop thinking about why we don't want to have sex.  Because really, from what I can tell, there are more reasons to just do it.

At least that's how I feel.  Especially after reading this in Sheet Music by Dr. Kevin Leman:

If you wanted your husband to converse more and he simply said, “Sorry, talk just doesn’t interest me as much as it interests you,” you’d be hurt, wouldn’t you? In fact, some of you probably have husbands who have said something very similar. Or if your husband was habitually lazy, refusing to help, saying that working around the house held little interest for him, you’d soon grow weary of his disinterest and want him to change, wouldn’t you?

When you tell your husband you just don’t have any interest in sex, you’re doing the same thing. In fact, what you’re doing is worse. You can always call up a girlfriend to talk or hire a handyman to work around the house, but your husband has no place else to go to express sexual intimacy.

Sex is the one thing I can give The Husband that no one else can.  With great power comes great responsibility.  Using that knowledge as a weapon is totally using that power for evil rather than good.  It shouldn't be something I use as a reward, or take away as punishment.  It's meant to be part of the marriage, not just a bonus.

And as I commented to Elizabeth, I know I get super grumpy if we go more than a couple of days without it.  I'm moody moodier, I snap at the girls easier, and I'm even short with my friends.

If that's not enough, an article at webmd.com gives 10 health benefits.  Sex...

1. relieves stress. 
2. boosts immunity.
3. burns calories. 
4. improves cardiovascular health. 
5. boosts self-esteem. 
6. improves intimacy. 
7. reduces pain. 
8. reduces prostate cancer risk.
9. strengthens pelvic floor muscles. 
10. helps you sleep better. 

Some days I daydream about what's going to happen after the girls are in bed asleep and The Husband and I have time to ourselves.  Other days I quietly hope that he just wants to watch some TV and go to bed.  But on those days when my hopes are dashed and I see that look in his eye, more often than not we end up burning some calories.

And you know what?

I can't think of one time when I've thought afterwards, "Man, I wish I could've just gone to bed."

So.  The bottom line is that I know that not having sex rarely, if ever, makes things better.  The benefits to having sex with The Husband are plentiful.

Sex wins.

The Happiness Project: Daddy's Girls

photo by Sonya Coates Photography

My girls are their daddy's girls.

Thanks to Leigh vs. Laundry for giving me a reason to spend some time thinking about things that make me happy.  Join her!

I ran. I ran so far away.

I did it!

No.  That doesn't quite capture how I felt Saturday morning as I ran under the FINISH banner.

I DID IT!!!!!

So did Carrie, Carrie, Jenni, Jenni's Super Fast Sister-In-Law, Karen, Katye, Leslie and Winn.  In tutus (made by Winn) and boas (provided by Jenni).  Weren't we adorable?

We weren't really wearing tiaras, I added those in using Picnik.  And our names don't float around us wherever we walk.  But we were fierce, as you can clearly see.  And that was taken AFTER we ran!

Let me just say that I figured, being this was a Disney thing and it was all about princesses, there would be plenty of people dressed up.  Not as many as I thought.  So we kind of stood out.  Enough that a few people came up and asked if they could get our picture, and one of the professional picture-takers did too.

This whole thing was Winn's idea.  She got people to join her by promising she would make tutus.  So 8 adult women decided to come to Orlando and get up at the buttcrack of dawn 5 in the morning to run 3.1 miles in the abnormally chilly cold Florida weather... For tutus.

It was worth every side stitch.

So basically, I ran through 11 countries in under 37 minutes.  Plus the parking lot of Epcot, and behind Epcot, where trams go to die.  Winn, Carrie and I started off together.  Picture if you will 3 women in tutus and boas, power-walking with arms linked up to the starting line.  That was us.  We had really wanted to start closer to the front but the crowd was dense, man.  So we snaked through the throngs, our tutus rustling as we slid past other runners or walkers or Joey Fatone.  Then we broke apart and started running.

I knew I would be behind them, because they are just faster than me, but it was okay.  As long as I had the trail of feathers from their boas in my path, everything was going to be fine.  So I just kept running.  And before I knew it, I saw the one mile mark -- and I was still running, and that is the farthest I had ever run before starting to walk.

That made me feel supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.  (I didn't Google that, how close was I?)

So I kept running, thinking if I could make it a mile, how much more could I go?  I did have to slow down and power walk for a bit, but I lost my trail of pink feathers and started to get nervous, so I started running again.  I ran past Snow White and a dwarf, Belle and the Beast, Jasmin and Aladdin.  I gave Pluto a high five. 

I think the second mile was the absolute longest mile of my entire life.

Then the people on the path cheering us on were yelling, "You're almost there!" and I foolishly believed them, so I willed myself to keep running.  LIARS!  I kept hearing something about going around an 'S' to the finish line, and then I realized I hadn't even seen the 3 mile marker yet, and there was still POINT ONE mile after that!  POINT ONE!  You don't think POINT ONE  mile sounds like much until it's all you have left!

So I kept on running, and those fibbers on the side kept telling me I was almost done.

And then I saw it.  THE FINISH LINE.

I kept my eye on the prize and I ran.  I heard "Go Tutu!" and I raised up my arms to wave, as I was the only tutu around.

And I crossed the finish line.

I felt exhilarated and exhausted, and then I saw a blur of pink feathers in front of me, and it was Winn, and she told me I hadn't come in that far behind her!  For real?!  I was so excited I almost didn't notice when I nearly ran into a row of porta-potties!

I'm not sure that the running bug bit me, but I had a super good time.  It did make me less afraid of trying to run around my block a couple of times.  Except for the black vans that are parked on my street, those still scare me.  Maybe I'll just wear the tutu when I run, then no one will mess with me.

Oh.  And I did run like Phoebe, but it was as we were walking up -- someone in the group wanted a demonstration.  I did The Running Man while we were waiting too.  There are no pictures or video of that. 

I hope...

This was a great weekend and, for me, quite an accomplishment.  Have you ever done something like that?  Maybe it's not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but inside it made you feel pretty darn good?

Note to Self: Run Like the Winn Edition

• You are running your first 5k tomorrow.
• You will be wearing a tutu.
• Also a boa.
• Possibly a tiara.
• It won't matter if you run like Phoebe.
• Really, you just want to cross the finish line.
• Really, you just don't want Winn to do the equivalent of lapping you like she did at practice.
• You were using your iPod, though, and when you started walking, you would walk in time to the music.
• You walk the fastest to DC Talk and Joan Jett.
• You have an odd collection of music.
• You will not have your iPod during the 5K.
• You will only have the music that is within you.
• Which will probably be a song that starts with, "Ohmygosh, why did I sign up for this," and ends with, "Lord, take me now."
• Breathe in.
• Breathe out.
• Relax.
• You'll have fun.
• You are running in a tutu, after all.
• With friends.
• At the happiest place on earth.
• Actually, a pretty nice little Saturday...

Have a great weekend!

Top 3 Thursday: Thinking Springy Thoughts

 from Confessions from a Working Mom & The (Un)Experienced Mom...What are your top 3 favorite things about spring? 

Many people will suggest that because I live in Florida, I might not be qualified to answer this, seeing as how we don't actually appear to have different seasons.  But this year, all those naysayers can just shutty uppy because it's been super cold here, and if you don't believe me, just ask my toes.  They haven't seen the light of day in WEEKS because I've not been able to wear flip flops.  I know, life is so hard.  Anyway, I am looking forward to spring just as much as anyone, because spring means...

 

1.  I can sit on the back porch and read.  I have a hammock chair.  Soon it will be hanging on our back porch and when spring is really here, I will be able to sit myself in it and read several books.  COMFORTABLY.  It is the most comfortable thing EVER.  But even if I didn't have that, I just love sitting on the back porch.  Love, love, love.  When I lived with my Granny, I would sometimes sit in one of her surprisingly comfy wicker chairs and actually fall asleep.  And even though the view from my back porch is the house behind us, it's still all good.

2.  I can wear flip flops again!  I think this is definitely one of the perks of living in Florida -- being able to wear flip flops and sandals practically year-round.  Flip flops are just so easy and comfy.  And even though I don't like getting pedicures from strangers, I like keeping my toenails pretty, and when I wear flip flops, the look lasts longer.  So it's about making the most of the money I spent on my nail polish, really.  I think The Husband would appreciate that.  Besides, I think my feet are claustrophobic.  When I wear sneakers or other close-toed shoes, they get antsy. 

3.  Spring Break!  I kind of like having the girls home for a few consecutive days and coming up with ways to entertain them.  (Notice I said a few consecutive days.  A few.  Summer time makes me nervous.)  Last year I instituted Pajama Day, and my girls and I met up with some friends at the mall -- all in our jammies!  And actually, last year it was chilly.  I remember because my pajamas were flannel.  I'm hoping this year to be able to wear something lighter.  And maybe see just how many places we can go in one day while wearing our pajamas...

What about you? 

What are your favorite things about spring?  I'm sure some of you northerners have some more insight into this than I do!

Happy Happy Joy Joy

I'm trying to do this crazy thing called going to bed on time.  So I'm doing this easy peasy lemon squeezy post that Princess Christy tagged me in.  I like it though, because it's all about things that bring about happiness.  And if you like all things happy, also go to Leigh vs. Laundry and check out her happiness project that she is going to be doing on Tuesdays.  I might be getting in on that action.  (I'm going to add me saying anything about "getting in on that action" to my list of things I shouldn't say, or type.  Like "my peeps" and "don't even front".  Except that saying those things sometimes make me happy, so...)

Anyway, on to my 10 things, in no particular order...

1. OPI Nail Polish.

2. Hanging with my peeps.

3. Bling.

4. My crib.

5. Bear hugs.

6. Chocolate chip cookies.

7. Gettin' my drink on.

8. The Husband.

9. Naps.

10. Writing.

I wanna know what makes these people happy, in no particular order...

wendiwinn. she likes stuff.

Sounds Like Tomatoes

Life's Recipe

Mommy's Heart

Tales of a Recovering Perfectionist

Honey B.

Things I Can't Say

Musings of a Moxie Mama

The Feminist Housewife

Too Many Hats

And I wanna know...

What makes you happy?

Do you know what month it is?

Did you know that March is National Colorectal Awareness Month?

Well, you do now!

Thank goodness the ribbon isn't brown.  Ew.

Why do I care that it's National Colorectal Awareness Month?  Is it because I enjoy saying colorectal?  Not quite.  Take a look at this post from July 2008:

NO IFS, ANDS OR BUTTS

I know how I spelled it. It was intentional.

Now, if you are sensitive about TMI, this might not be the blog post for you. I’m warning you now, look away! Click on one of the links to the right! Head to Facebook and add flair! NOW!  (Edited to add: C'mon, flair was still so in when I wrote this!)

Still with me? Very well.

Imagine you are a 25-year-old female. You’re single and you live in the sweetest, tiniest apartment. You have your own new car. Okay, it’s a Hyundai, but it’s all yours. You have a great group of friends to spend time with. Life is pretty good.

Then you go to the bathroom and something isn’t right. It’s not “that time of the month” and you see blood.

Ew.

Okay, it could be a one-time thing, right? Except that it keeps happening. You ask your mom about it, and your Granny since she’s always inquiring about your BMs. (Those are serious business to seniors.) They both tell you to go to the doctor. Well, duh.

However, it isn’t that easy. After all, you’re a 25-year-old female and the last thing you want is to go to your general physician and endure the indignities that accompany this type of ailment, and then relive those same indignities at a specialist’s office.

Alas, go you must. Because there should never be blood when you aren’t expecting it.

So you go to your general physician and explain the situation to the nurse and then to him. You know what’s going to happen next, but you’ve chosen not to think about it. The nurse comes back in the room, the gloves go on, and you are facedown on the sheet of paper protecting you from the germs left on the table by the last poor sap in the room. The exam is over. There is no explanation. Of course, because he’s a general physician he has to send you to a specialist, so you go, you wait 45 minutes, and you repeat the process.

Then you hear a word that you didn’t expect to hear for another 25 years. COLONOSCOPY.


It can’t be all that bad. Katie Couric went on national TV and had one done, right?

You schedule the procedure. Unfortunately, you’re 25 and it’s January 2002 so you’re fasting for 48 hours prior and the prep is still the nastiest conconction ever, plus a couple of enemas for good measure. You are driven to the surgery center, put in one of those fabulous backless gowns (which, for this, is actually quite necessary), and hooked up to an IV. Then they wheel you into the room and the doctor says, “So you’re here for the lobotomy?” You choose to not to reply, “Only if my head is up my…” He explains that you’ll have a metallic taste in your mouth from the anesthesia and asks you to start counting backwards from 100. “100… 99…” Zzzzzzz…

You wake up groggy and giggly. You are told a polyp was removed, and there’s something about follow-up with the general physician.

You’re 25, though, and thought that since the polyp was removed, so was any problem. Out of sight, out of mind. (Although it never really was in sight in the first place, was it?)

Fast forward 6 years. You’re 31-years-old and you’ve had 2 children. There’s a commercial about getting colonoscopies.

You remember that the doctor suggested you get one every 5 years. Eek. It’s about that time. You find the doctor’s name and make an appointment.

When you arrive at the office, the nurse informs you that they’ve been trying to contact you for 2 years. Why? Because they thought it best that you get another colonoscopy in 3 years rather than 5. Why? Because that polyp was actually a tubulovillous adenoma. Precancerous. You blink a few times while absorbing that information (and realizing that the general physician never contacted you himself), and go through the exam (without the embarrassing part because you aren’t currently seeing blood where there shouldn’t be), and schedule your next fun-filled colonoscopy.

This time the prep is easier (pills!), the anesthesia has you up 15 minutes after the procedure ended, and you are told that nothing was found. You are free to wait another 5 years for your next colonoscopy, and then 10 years if that one is clean.

Aren’t you glad, though, that you went ahead and endured the indignities? Imagine the alternative.

Keep that thought in mind whenever something just isn’t right and you think you’re too busy to have it checked out. If you’re young and can’t imagine something being seriously wrong. If you’re a mom and you spend more time on everyone else’s health before your own. Blood in the toilet? Go to the doctor. Lump in your breast? Go to the doctor. Anything unusual that you aren’t sure of? GO TO THE FREAKIN’ DOCTOR.

And that was all she (I) wrote.

Do you need to go to the doctor?  Have you ever been glad you did?