Sexperiment and Fireworks

these are NOT related

So I took a day or so off from blogging because I was feeling overwhelmed. I am still working to balance all the things that make me happy: writing, keeping healthy (I don't LOVE the gym, but I do love being healthy), mommying, gardening, etc.... it seems that I have the ability to become stuck in front of my computer screen from time to time, ignoring some of the other things in my life that need food, water, hugs and kisses. Not at an abusive level, mind you, but when I get to the point of sticking my spawn in front of a television show that features dancing furry weirdo thingys that are having a dance party inside of a robot head (sorry, Gabba Gabba), it's time to step away from the keyboard for a while. I also have this innate desire to immediately respond to every comment left on my blog, then get carried away, because they turn into small literary works themselves. So if you're reading this, first of all, let me say thank you. Secondly, I LOVE that you comment and promise to do a better job at letting you know it. Moving forward, yesterday we had friends over. I'm not sure they'll be back. We hope, but two out of three of them left with firework related burns.... no, Freddy didn't aim and fire, but thanks for thinking of him. He has complete control over his explosives. I tried to ply my burn victims with wine and beer in an effort to get them partially drunk so that would forget the fire trauma. I'll let you know how it turns out. THE GARDEN REPORT YEP. I'm still planting baby. We are developing the rules for our sexperiment as we go along, though we've had no major complications as of yet. Last night Freddy wandered downstairs as foreplay... pre-gardening was beginning, in search of his plastic cobra. I found that amusing. Leo did not. He couldn't find his SNAKE...get it? I guess it's funnier when you're naked. Anyway, then we hear Dora whimpering and it was my turn to be super parent. I climbed the steps and entered her scary glowing pink (thank you Santa for the funky Sleeping Beauty I'm sure it's a fire hazard lamp) bedroom. She was in the middle of a nice no tears cryfest. Conversation went as follows:

Me: What's wrong sweetie?

Dora: I'm sad 'cause I'm thinking about the baby bunny.

Me: I understand. I'm sorry that you're sad.

Dora: I don't want him to be in heaven. When is he gonna come back to his bones?

Me: Uhhhh. ummmmm. Hmmmm. WTF do you say!? I might have whispered "damn it" under my breath. Well sweetie, I don't think he will be coming back to his bones. He's quite happy hopping in Heaven on a carrot cloud right about now. Do you think he would really like to come back to that hole in the yard?

Dora: But he misses me mommy.

Let me interrupt myself to tell you that at this point real tears are starting to roll down her cheeks.

Dora cont.: How can I tell him that I love him when he is on the carrot cloud?

Me: When you say your prayers, tell God to give the bunny a little shout out for you. I'm sure he will be happy to tell him that you said hello.

Dora: Okay mommy, but I'm still sad. Thank you for coming to check on me.

Me: I will always check on you sweetie. Me to You: I am always humbled by my daughter thanking me for doing mommy things for her. It is simple and yet probably the greatest feeling I get on a regular basis.

THE GARDEN REPORT CONT. So, as I was saying, we are still planting. I'm stressing out already just thinking about how to keep it interesting. I know that people say sex is like ice cream, and that you don't ever get BAD ice cream, but you do know that they make Red Pepper flavored goat's milk ice cream, right? Yeah. Me neither. So toss me some ideas. Don't worry about getting too crazy. We're open, unless you are thinking of inviting farm animals or yourselves. Weirdos.

Late Night GARDENING

 ( The all caps is for you, bro. That’s me yelling so’s you know for sure that yes, I’m still doin’ it.)

Important note to in regards to gardening: In order to enjoy gardening as I should, it may be necessary to adjust hours of planting to ensure willing (and awake) partner.

 I had girl time last night with my lovely friend “Reba”(secret government name of course, the mother of Baby Reba... you followin’ me?) and had all intentions of being back in the den of love by 9-ish. Dora was staying with gramma (she finally picked up the phone after the 57th call) and Freddy is easily handled solo. Should be golden for continuation of sexperiment, wouldn’t cha think? I did. It seems I did NOT take into account the fact that it seems I have missed the sometimes adult, sometimes mature conversation that has taken a backseat to the needs of various spawn since school dismissed and separated Reba and me. Leonidas laughed when I told him I would be back at 9, obviously knowing me better than I know myself. What’s new? After the conversation and impossibly loud laughter (a.k.a. snorting) that come hand in hand with a two glass of wine dinner, I was shocked to see that it was 9:20 and I was still drinking coffee and licking the inside of my teeny tiny mini strawberry cheesecake in a shot glass dessert. In other words, I wasn’t home by 9. Another “you’re right again” point for  Leo. I have to stop here to give a shout out to our server Jessica that was rockin’ the bar at  P.F. Chang’s last night, gifting both Reba and myself  with a set of dessert shot glasses disguised as leftovers in a bag. Holla Jess! Was that wrong of her? I don’t care.

I returned home to find Leo had gone to bed, though he was still conscious. Not a bad place to start, though I think he would’ve rather had cold Mongolian Beef in a box rather than a round of gardening.I had been running late late late for my important date and the fam had to fend for themselves for dinner, but nonetheless, he welcomed me with open....um....er....arms? What a trooper.

We’re both still smiling at each other, and in our house that falls under the positive category. I DID however, skip the torture chamber gym this morning, simply because my ass (accompanied by various other parts)  is tired. I hope to rest up, yeah whatever, today and begin killing myself softly (with NO songs...did you get that?) in the stinky, sweaty, smelly, nasty, hot, I hate it gym tomorrow. But I’m not bitter....

I'm Gonna Have Sex.. lots and lots of it.

Let me start by excusing my brother from having to read any further. It’s okay dawg, I understand. You may proceed at your own risk, and I will attempt to warn you in the very beginning if and when my post switches over to the sex talk. We really need to work out a code word… until then, I’ll just blatantly let you know.  I’m starting now.

After watching a spot on NBC’s TODAY about a husband and wife that had sex for 101 days, on purpose, I ran across an article in Women’s Health describing some of the benefits of a fairly active sex life. Now, I’m not quite sure which universal force controls the amount of sex that happens in the den of love (it had only been working part time, who or whatever it may be), but I think I’ve had an epiphany. The TODAY couple stated that they had never been closer. I want to be even closer to Leonidas! There are also many health advantages for those that shag (and I ain’t talkin’ about beach dancing) often. I want to be healthy! We’re also talking about reduction of stress, headaches, all around bitchiness (that comes SO naturally for me), not to mention the 200 calories burned during a naked sweaty love session. You KNOW I’m looking for any way NOT to go to the gym at dark thirty. Another part of my wanting to do this involves my awareness that my spawn have zapped my I wanna be your sex goddess time with my man. Not on purpose, mind you, but the “tie me to the bedpost and pull, don’t tug my hair” girl has been gone for about 5 years now. It is truly difficult to feel like Angelina Jolie when you’re acting like Mrs. Edna Garrett from “The Facts of Life” all day long, snotted on t-shirt with spaghetti sauce included at no extra cost. At the end of my day, I tend to favor a bottle of wine and an early night night over sexy time with my hot honey. In an effort to right those very basic wrongs, I proposed this to Leonidas on Friday, and he seemed quite supportive of my efforts, after he came to. Imagine that. *Please note that I am doing this on my own, free will and everything. I have not been forced, pressed, convinced, bribed, threatened, etc.* This is MY idea. 101 days of sex with my husband, starting tonight. It’s legal and doesn’t cost a dime… unless you count the hot lingerie I will be purchasing around day 30.  It’s time to get my mojo back. Yeah, baby!