Self love. Yes, THAT kind.

Please be advised this is no pervy, whack-off post. Any of you who found this by Google or other key words, just go elsewhere. This is about parenting. If you’re looking for anything otherwise, move along.

Masturbation.

Yep. That word. It’s a doozy. What comes to mind when I hear that? That character on Family Guy, was it Master Bates from the Morning Wood Academy?  Ha ha. Insert frat humor here.

Okay. Have you had THAT talk with your kids? I’ve had that talk with my kids. But I’m talking about this talk. The other talk. You know, where you tell them that if they touch themselves they will go blind. Or their hand will shrivel up and fall off. I’m kidding! I just said that small puppies will die. Okay, seriously.

I have NOT had this talk with my kids. We’ve talked about sex and how a baby is made. Emma is pretty clear on most things between a man and a woman. I mean, you know, the basics. She’s had family life in school, she knows about STDs and drugs and alcohol. She’s got it covered.

Okay, well maybe I did have THIS talk about Master Bates with Emma. But it was not on purpose.

My children have always been, uhm, you know, precocious. They are big farters and announcers about their farts. They talk about their privates. ALL. THE. TIME. We’re pretty comfortable talking about pretty much anything.

And then, the other day, Owen asks me if it’s true that when you rub your nuts your penis gets hard. Well, I said, I don’t have that equipment so I can’t say from experience. (Yeah, I know, easy way out.) But that if at any time you want to touch your privates, it’s totally fine to do as long as you are by yourself and privately at home. And then I asked him where he heard this bit of information. And he said a kid at school said that rubbing your junk makes it hard. Lovely.
AWKWARD. So I just casually said that if he had any questions he should probably ask his father. And that if he ever feels like touching himself, it’s totally not a big deal and again, reiterate that it is to be done in seclusion. And to please not talk about it with anyone outside our family, like at school or the playground.  It’s best to just come to me or dad with questions.

I think I handled that pretty well.

Moving on to a different day and Emma makes a joke about rubbing the cats balls while she was petting his belly. Technically he doesn’t have any balls, since he is neutered, which is also more fodder for discussion and jokes in this house. We like to talk in funny cat voices and talk about his missing balls. It’s a whole ‘nother story.  I said to please not molest the cat, it invades his privacy. One should only rub their own privates not anyone else’s or any animal’s for that matter. (Seriously, I need to have these conversations? WTF?) So she says, “Why on earth would anyone ever want to rub their privates?!”

Uhm. Well. Uhm. No reason.

Is what I should have said.

But instead, I start to pontificate on the benefits of self pleasure. Well, not exactly. But I said that masturbation is totally normal and nothing to be ashamed or afraid of. It is perfectly common for when you start to reach adulthood and sexual maturity to want to touch yourself only with the means of making it ‘feel good’.

Insert big shocked face from Emma here.

“Oh my gosh!! There is NO WAY that I’m just going to stick my hand down to my vagina because I WANT to! Do I just start flapping around my labias and clitoris for fun? NO!” (okay, this girl knows her parts and it kinda freaks me out every time she uses them in context!)

Me- “Well, your brother was discussing that boys at school talked about rubbing their privates and it felt good, so I was just making sure you were clear on the whole parameters on that kind of thing.”

Her- “DISGUSTING! So dad rubbed his junk when he was a teenager? Like I want to think about that!! EWWW!!! No thank you!”

Me- (Totally not trying to crack up and make her think I think this is a joke. She makes Taylor Lautner pectoral jokes all the time, now she goes all prude on me?) “Hey, that’s fine sweetie, whatever you are comfortable with. And if you have any questions, feel free to ask.” (please, please, please, don’t have any questions.)

Her- “Okay, well thank you for that mom. I’ll just go to bed now and try not to have nightmares about this sort of thing.”

Drama queen much?

So there you go. If you ever need any advice on how to talk to your kids about anything sexual, feel free to ask me. No, actually, I’m kidding. You’re on your own.

But I have said this- as much as we parents squirm and dance around this stuff- if your kids can come to YOU about it, Elle Woods finger snaps to you.

Because parenting is about being there. And then blogging about it after they walk away.

RTLF #23 – So many things!

This week is chock full of things to be grateful for. Remember, this is my list. If it doesn’t coincide with yours, just kindly move along. I’m grateful we can agree to disagree. There.

Big election week. Duh. So I’m grateful for some outcomes. But most in particular is the Washington State referendum that allows same sex couples to marry. It doesn’t redefine marriage. It allows all people to have the same civil rights when it comes to marriage.

Anyway, we need to get over the definition of marriage. Over the centuries it has meant many different things. Such as:

In the Old Testament men had many wives. Women were property. Even in the 1800s women couldn’t own property, yet they were married off like it. In the south, first cousins married each other in arranged marriages.

Inter racial marriages were illegal up until the 1960s. Slavery had been outlawed for a hundred years but folks couldn’t marry outside their race. And it’s pretty obvious, you couldn’t marry a slave either, it says so in the Bible.

Let’s include all the non religious people have weddings all the time. Nobody makes a stink about that. So to say it’s a religious, biblical sacrament, just isn’t cutting it for me.

I have many gay friends. Some don’t want to get married. Hey, I get that. But those that do, now can. I think it’s wonderful. They aren’t clamoring for rights to kill puppies people. They are fighting for rights to love openly. How can that be bad?

I’m grateful for my mommy and daddy being well. They are getting old. We all are. But this week they had more Old People tests than normal. Mom had to have a second mammogram to check things out. Dad had some heart tests to confirm a few things.

But the news at the end of the week was good and all their tests came back clear. So I can breathe a little easier. And they can too. Which makes me happy knowing they are happy.

I love that my husband works his butt off for this family. We both do. But his working butt gets a paycheck. You could say my butt spends it. Okay, that was weird. But yeah, I’m so very grateful for the two checks a month we get to pay the bills, buy the food and maybe even a little extra for some treats. Not much extra. But that’s okay.

With the holidays coming it’s always stressful stretching the paycheck out over extra extra stuff. I love the festivity, I love feeling generous and grabbing as many giving tree tags as I can. But then I need to remember to budget myself. I’m grateful for the ability to take some of those giving tree tags to help other people in what little way I can.

So there you go. My list, my gratitude. My cup runneth over not just with tea, but with so much warm fuzzy love. I know, it’s disgusting.

Namaste.

Hey Daniel Craig, call me, maybe?

This is a little ridiculous. A grown, married woman ogling over a grown married man. Ever since I first saw Mr. Craig (don’t you love a man with two first names?) in Casino Royale, he just had that certain panache. He was rugged, handsome, got dirty, wounded, tortured even. He fell in love, was scorned. He seemed cool and collected, but pained and vulnerable all at the same time. I could go on.

His other movies I find him the same. Not the same as in, always plays the same character type-casty stuff. But the same layers of intrigue and humanity. He just seems real to me. Not a caricature.

And maybe because he’s English, I have a soft spot for him. Okay, every spot on me is soft, but still, a British accent, with THAT body AND cleverness? Hummina hummina.

My mom doesn’t approve. She thinks he looks like Putin. My friend Christin thinks he’s always trying to do Blue Steel ala Zoolander style. My other friend Jen, says he does nothing for her. This, my friends, is not a problem. I don’t care what you think of him, I enjoy him. So I will gladly drool over him by myself.

So in my 40s I’m allowed a lust card. You know, a ‘Go Directly to GO and collect $200’ card. He’s on the CARD. He is THE CARD.

If Daniel Craig walks up to me and starts unbuttoning my blouse, McSweetie is just going to have to step aside. Just step aside McSweetie and look the other way, this might be hard to watch. Maybe I could be a Bond girl. Not the kind that dies in the last two movies, but a kickass agent who wears couture, then gets it unzipped by 007. Then shoots a few bad guys. But nothing with heights please. I’m scared of heights. Or maybe a Bond girl that dances in Spanx and swings off rope swings over pools?

After Daniel and I have our little rendezvous, he and McSweetie can share a pint of Guinness and discuss Liverpool football. The soccer kind.

Okay, so I’m not going to sleep with Daniel Craig! Sheesh! Easy there folks and your extra-marital judgeyness.

BUT let’s just say Ellen Degeneres arranges for me to have tea with Daniel somewhere in a quiet cafe outside of  London. He can talk about soccer, acting, his beautiful and talented wife Rachel Weisz (hate her) and then he can give me an Omega watch and sign my boobs. I mean, he can give me a signed Bond script or something!

So I made this video of me doting on Daniel. I’m hoping it will go viral and find him in his cozy abode outside London. He’ll call me, or email me, and we can be friends. Friends that snog each other in alley ways. Okay, I’m KIDDING!

Still, do me a favor. Spread the word. Send smoke signals, tweet those tweets. Let Daniel know that I love him and will carry his children! Actually, I won’t, I don’t want to be pregnant again. But if he has a dog, or some other smallish pet, I can carry that for him. And his groceries.

If you need to find me, I’ll be in a dark theater watching Skyfall.

Check out my video and share people!

Just another post election blog

I wasn’t going to write about the outcome of the election. But then after all the stuff on Facebook and the news channels afterwards, this girl couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

A sampling of what was all over the interwebs on election night-

Yes, there was celebration. There were tears. There was jubilation for the re-election of President Obama. There was disappointment, frustration, dismay.

But really? The end of the world? It is clear how polarized our country is. Folks still think we are being ruled by some communist Muslim who was born in Kenya. Thanks Donald Trump for beating that dead horse.

People commenting on how stupid half the country is. People saying Romney can fuck off now.

Have we forgotten that America isn’t about how Republican you are? Or how God-fearing you are. It isn’t about Ohio, or the Latino vote. It’s about everyone getting to say their mind. Sure the electoral college is weird and confusing. It feels useless sometimes. BUT, I like knowing that I contributed in the popular vote. That I had an input in my local elections. Those can be decided sometimes by just a few thousand votes.

People died for our right to vote. Women were tortured and starved for my right to vote. Black people died to vote. They were beaten on their way to polls. White people were beaten for helping them.

We are better than that now. But don’t slay each other electronically. We do not need to degrade each other over Facebook or Twitter.

I am not a lesser person because of who I voted for. I’m not stupid for liking one candidate over another.

I’m tired of feeling uneasy to express how I feel, to wonder what scrutiny or hailstorm of comments will ensue after I’ve expressed my opinion. Usually by folks taking something out of context, something personally that was meant as a generalization or as an experience I had.

Don’t you think that someone’s opinions were formed by their struggles, by their burdens? Do you know their story? Maybe it’s more similar to your own than you think.

Why be so quick to judge?

Politics is tiresome. It can be frustrating. But in the end, it is a process that got us here. Elections matter.

I believe that we are going to be okay. I do have hope. I do see change. It’s slow. It takes time.

Romney said he believes in America. And I do too. I believe in it whether I’m a Democrat or a Republican.

I know that a party affiliation doesn’t prove your belief in America or God, more or less than anything else.

Let’s shake hands and get to work.

That’s just my hippy dippy optimism for now. I hope you can join me. Kum ba ya.

Namaste.

Frugalistablog for President?

It’s time we had a woman in office.

But I don’t think that gal is me.

The fancy state dinners and meeting the Olympic champions and winners of the Superbowl would be fun. I’d love being in the balcony at the Kennedy Center Honors. But holy shit. The scrutiny of public office would put me in a state of the runs. There’s not enough pepto and chamomile tea to comfort that twisted feeling deep down in that lower intestine of mine.

This is what being President would be like for me: I would come up with great ideas and policies. And then they would always have a flip side of how they wouldn’t work.

Every 3rd Friday of the month is free lip gloss day at Sephora.

This just in- the Council of Shoe Addicts is concerned that you didn’t give their platform a voice. (see what I did there? Platform?? Nevermind.)

Oh crap. You just can’t please everyone.

How about this one-

Whenever you file your taxes early you get a kitten.

This just in- Dog lovers aren’t pleased.

Christ on a bike!!

This just in- Roller bladers that like Jesus feel left out.

Oh for the love of cheese, I can’t win!

 

How about let’s have International High Tea day! All the countries of the world will join in tea and scones for everyone!

This is a good id… WHAT NOW???

Forget it.

Don’t even get me started on the criticism. The comments on my hair and clothes would be relentless.

But here’s the thing. I want rainbows, puppies and cupcakes for everyone. I want children to not go hungry. Animals to have warm, safe homes. I want veterans to have employment. I want world peace. I want fabulous schools and education for all.

Call me an optimist, call me an idiot. I always want the best for people. What I want, isn’t what everyone wants. So the means to an end doesn’t always match everyone’s ideals.

This is why I would suck at politics. I would spend nights crying in my pillow wondering why people didn’t like my ideas. My feelings would be hurt by the jokes the late night television hosts would use to slay my personality quirks and make fun of my Drew Barrymore-ish lisp. The pundits would have a field day with my policies.

I have to believe that Jon Stewart would have something nice to say about me.

So, luckily, you don’t have to vote for me.  But do vote, please. Someone fought for that.

RTLF #22 – my kids

Way back when, before there was Owen, we considered Emma might be an only child. My pregnancy was tough with her. My post partum was no picnic either. Unless it’s a picnic where fire ants crawl in your pants, sting your crotch and wild honey badgers shred your nipples. Not pretty.

James probably had a coronary five times over stressing about the health of his wife and unborn child in a time span of 3 months. He figured we were done in the baby gestating department.

But once the baby-nesia set in, and I was ready for another, I convinced James that Emma needed a sibling. That she wasn’t going to be the token child of some sweet, middle class couple who doted on her and was totally whipped because she was the center of our universe. It was important for her to have a sibling, a counterpart in the family. And if we could grow that little cabbage patch kid ourselves, let’s give it a go.

After Emma’s second birthday, the idea of being pregnant again didn’t seem like a horrible  idea anymore. So sure enough, I got knocked up, and that baby turned out to be Owen. She had just turned 3 when he was born.

Despite the early years of whining, bickering, throttling, and basic sibling rivalry between them, we’ve turned a corner.

Every now and then the uterus spawn will do something to shock and awe you into thinking that maybe they won’t kill and hate each other forever.

This week, Emma wrote an essay on how her favorite thing to do is spend time with her brother. I think the earth stopped spinning for just a milisecond there out of shear WTFness.

The following is her words, and yes, I melted reading this.

“I have had many memories, but my favorite ones are with my brother. My most cherished moment in my life happened when I was three years old. My Oma and Opa woke me up early in the morning with smiles on their faces to tell me my brother was born.  We drove to the hospital to see the new addition to my family.  When we arrived to our destination I remember being filled with glee.  With my baby doll in my arms that I named Owen to prepare for holding the real Owen, I sat down in the big hospital chair and my father placed my brother in my arms. With the amount of tears and cameras out I knew that it was an important moment. Today, there are small moments that I cling to such as beating my brother at Mario Kart, him saying I look pretty, or even when he laughs at my joke.

Another reason why spending time with my brother is important is he has always been there for me. Two years ago I had a back injury that had me in bed for a week. During the bed rest period I was helpless and scared because I didn’t know what was wrong with me and I couldn’t even walk to the bathroom by myself.  One of the hard days I was really emotional and I needed cheering up. My brother, being the cute little boy he is, came up to me and handed me one of his stuffed animals. It was a giant, blue cookie monster from Sesame Street. He told me to get better soon and he loved me. His words of encouragement were just what I needed. The days of hurt went by faster and I was soon fully recovered. That was one of the many examples of Owen being by my side and helping me get through something. I loved every second of my brother’s words of wisdom.

In conclusion, spending time with my brother, Owen is my favorite thing to do because of amazing memories we have had, him always having my back and life lessons we have had together.”

 
Emma is turning this essay in today and I needed a copy of it to prove to her she did once write this. My work here is done people.

Mom on Strike

Dear Family,

This is not the NFL. No replacement refs here. No SCABS.

When you wake up in the morning, get your own damn waffle. You can reach the toaster.

Pack your lunch.

When you can’t find your socks, look in the drawer. Or the dryer, or the hamper. Have you ran the washing machine? It’s not magic, it doesn’t run on its own. Oh and don’t just load the blasted thing, put that shit in the dryer, then FOLD. IT. Yep. Guess what? Folding and putting the laundry away is THE BORING part. Uh huh. You may think ‘you’re all that’, putting them dirty clothes in the machine. But that don’t make you a hero.
The battle is in the taking those socks, making them into sock balls. Taking t-shirts that are inside out and putting them right side in.  Or out. Whatever. Oh dear GOD how does every motha fuckin’ shirt get inside out in the wash??? I don’t take off my shirts and put them over my head like that. Is that necessary?

Okay, moving on.

Garbage on the floor. Throw away your own furkin’ wrappers, kleenexes, band-aids, used ones especially, popsicle sticks, gogurt tubes…. oh my gads, is this a frat house??? Throw away all toe nail clippings. I shouldn’t have to ask you twice.

After dinner, if I’m at a PTA meeting, you know one of the many things I do for free, don’t just pile up the dishes on the counter over the dishwasher. Put them IN it. Put the pans in the sink. Put away any leftover food in the refrigerator. Oh, and this is big, WIPE. OFF. THE. COUNTERS. I know it’s hard. It can be yucky. What, all those crumbs and spills. Yeah, disgusting.

If I make the danged dinner, least you can do is clean up after it.

All your clothes and random belongings need to go up to your room. That means all of you. I’m tired of looking at your thermals, hoodies and soccer shoes. Why are there always socks in the family room? Hair accessories are the same. Do they multiply like bunnies? Why are there always bobby pins and hair elastics in every room of the house?

If you have a dish in a room of the house, other than the kitchen, put it away. I don’t want to find your milk glass in your bedroom two weeks later.

Toilet paper needs to be replaced on the roll. How many times do I have to say this? If you are using the last roll, go get several more from the bathroom cupboard.

If you use the last milk, go into the garage fridge, and get the next carton.

All tools need to be returned to their proper place. That means a roll of tape goes back in the office. A hammer goes back in the garage.

Please don’t leave Nerf weapons randomly on the stairs. Someone will trip over them. Okay, I will trip over them.

Now that we have that established, I think I’ll go to the spa, and then eat bonbons watching an entire season of Boardwalk Empire on DVD from the library.

Someone call for pizza.

Reason to Live Friday #21

It’s cold season. Yeah, duh. Right? But I’m so grateful for my health. And by that I mean, really truly grateful for me, McSweetie, and the kids to be healthy right now.

STOP THE PHLEGM BOTS

I thought I would enlighten you with my natural remedies for staying well during the snot season. Mucus glands are on overdrive. Phlegm is rampant. Amoebas are just floating around waiting to settle in your nostrils. Isn’t this all tantalizing?

So what I learned from my acupuncture doctor is that there are wonderful things in nature that can get you out of the phlegm zone so your body rids it faster and you don’t risk infections whether bronchial or sinus.

This is not me being all sanctimonious and in your craw about how healthy I am. Remember, this is the chick who eats seaweed, quinoa, but then loves a doughnut. I enjoy junk food. So do my kids. But we moderate the junk. For the most part we eat fresh, organic, ingredients. My focus is plant based as you might know, I haven’t had meat and dairy in many moons. This will be my first holiday season meat and dairy free. I have no idea how much will-power I will maintain.

Dairy is sort of the gateway for phlegm and mucus. It’s just the truth. So cutting out dairy has cleared me up immensely. I haven’t (knock on wood) had a sinus infection or bronchitis in a year.

So when you get the sniffles, don’t drown it in a bowl of ice cream. I know Mr. Ben and Mr. Jerry are very comforting when you aren’t feeling very well, but then the snot monsters get happy, and you don’t want that.

I used to just reach for the Sudafed. But once during a college lecture class, I thought I was going to have a heart attack, my heart was racing from the cold medicine. I know they’ve changed ingredients over the years. But I just don’t like the way they make me feel. Also, if you’re pregnant, breast feeding, or wondering what to give your child, those ingredients can be scary considering the FDA continues to change its mind about them.

What you do want to do is-  Get some fresh ginger root from your grocery store. (It is important to get the fresh ginger, not the dried or the kind in tea bags. My acupuncturist explained these are the wrong temperature for the body to fight what it needs to fight. It’s a Chinese medicine thing, just go with it.) Take a spoon’s edge and scrape off about an inch section. Cut it up or leave the chunk whole. Put it in a pot of water on the stove. Just a medium-ish saucepan will do. Let it come to a boil, then turn it on medium-low to let it simmer for a good 10 or 20 minutes. Pour some in a mug, squeeze in some fresh lemon juice – not crystals, not the juice that comes in that plastic lemon. Fresh lemon. Add some honey. Drink this all day. Drink the whole pot throughout the day. If ginger bothers you,  that’s what the lemon and honey for. Add it to some green or white tea. Drink plenty of water with it.

At night, I put a shot of whiskey or brandy in it. My acupuncture doctor didn’t tell me to do this. I tried it, and it soothed my aches, and helped if my throat was sore. Don’t over do it on the alcohol. Wine and vodka don’t kill a cold as much as we would want them to.

Soak in a hot tub of Epsom salts with Eucalyptus oil. It will clear your passages and sooth any aches.

Avoid raw or cold, wet foods while you are battling the phlegm bots. Have a warm bowl of oatmeal instead of a cold bowl of cereal. Don’t have a salad, have a bowl of vegetable soup. Avoid cream bases of course. According to Chinese medicine, the wet and cold foods contribute to your moisture levels. You want to think, warm and dry. Make sense?

Also, another kicker I add to my arsenal is Elderberry Syrup. I have purchased it at Whole Foods. I bet there’s all kinds of places to get it. It looks like cough syrup and you can give it to your kids. It tastes like jam. My kids complained about it at first, but they got used to it. When they start the sniffle dance, I give them a teaspoon and have them wash it down with some juice.

I swear it cuts the duration of their cold in half. I’ve used this for Emma when she has had to perform and started feeling run-down. She bounces back a lot sooner. I also take a spoonful of it when the kids are getting sick, to prevent myself from getting their crud. So far it’s worked.

Also, the ginger concoction is safe for kids too. I put extra honey in theirs and mix it with chamomile tea. Owen is very good at drinking it, Emma complains a little and usually just drinks juice. Oh well, I try my best.

If you do get hit with a nasty virus, consider acupuncture to clear up your sinuses and chest. I was able to avoid antibiotics the last time I had a nasty, phlegmy cough and I was relieved. Antibiotics can do miracles and in the case of strep throat and other bacterias, I believe in them entirely. But if you can keep your cold from becoming an infection, avoiding antibiotics is better in the long run.
So there you have it. My wisdom. I’m not a doctor, but I play one on TV. Just kidding, I’ve always wanted to say that.

Namaste.

I’m writing over at Bonbon Break this week…

Halloween is one week away. Do you have your costume? Is it slutty? Maybe you need to read about my slutty costume intervention.

This week I was asked to write for Bonbon Break and their special Halloween issue. It’s chock full of giveaways. If you find the zombie of the day,  comment under their post and you are entered to win that day’s giveaway. Hmmm… I wonder who it could be for Wednesday…. better check on over and see.

There’s great stuff in there for recipes, decor, and just fun stuff. Like me! Just click the picture below:

Click on the picture to head on over to Bonbon Break

Sky rocket’s in flight….afternoon delight.

Wait a minute. This isn’t going to be a post about…..about…. sex is it? Actually, it’s a post on the fact that it’s time to clean my shower and marital relations under running water can be dangerous.

It was a Saturday just after lunch. Both kids were out of the house and me and the hubby were just home alone. <eyebrow raises> Yeah. Alone. Now I don’t know about you, but after the kids are in bed, one of us, is usually snoring on the couch. There’s drool involved and the dog curled up next to that person. We are just SO tired by the evening. If we don’t figure out a way for any interludes during daylight, there’s usually a long spell of no relations.

So I go upstairs to take a shower. I casually mentioned, “oh, what do you know- we’re alone and the kids aren’t home. Excuse me while I go take a shower.” Hint hint.  Eventually, I’m in the midst of deep conditioning my hair when the bathroom door opens.

Dialogue exchanged:

Me- “What took you so long stud? (in my best Mae West voice) Are you serious about this? (changing immediately to my own worried voice) One of the kids could be home any minute.” (Emma is far too aware of things that go on behind closed doors.)

Him- “It’s okay, I’ll lock the door. We’ll be quick.”

(yeah, that’s true actually.)

Me- “You sure? We kind of suck at shower sex. One of us could get hurt. Like me.”

Him- “Hey, might as well try, I’ve got to shower anyway.”

He walks into the shower and wraps his arms around my waist.

Me- “OH MY GOD YOUR HANDS ARE LIKE ICE!!! WARM THEM UP FIRST!!!”

Him- “Sorry, I’ll put them under the hot water.”

Me-“AAAAAH….THERE’S WATER IN MY EAR….. YOUR DRIBBLING WATER IN MY EAR WITH YOUR HANDS UP AGAINST THE SHOWER HEAD LIKE THAT!” (I hate water in my ears, just so you know.)

Him-“Sorry, I was just trying to warm them up.”

Me- “Here, let me suds you up ala Christian Grey style.”

Him- “Who’s Christian Grey?”

Me- “nevermind, I’ll just wash you down like all sexy, ‘kay?”

Me- “OH SOAP! THERE’S SOAP IN MY EYE! I THINK IT’S FROM MY CONDITIONER! Wait a minute….Okay…. that’s better.”

Him-“Let me get your back.”

Me-“Yeah, here’s a loofah, I’ve got some black heads I can’t reach back there. It’d be so great if you could scrub them for me.”

Me-“Oooh, your hands are warmer…. so is the rest of you… AAAAAHHH WATER IN MY EAR AGAIN! COULD YOU MOVE SO THIS DOESN’T KEEP HAPPENING?”

Him- “Sorry, it’s kind of cold out here not under the shower. We need a two person shower one of these days.”

Me- “We need a whole new bathroom one of these days. These gold fixtures are the worst in tackiness and the grout is coming apart.”

Him-“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Some kissing and smoochy stuff ensues. Trying to be uber sexy while my hair is piled on my head in a deep conditioning mask and not slipping on the shave foam residue, is a little tricky.

Eventually I try to take things to the next level.

Me- “Uhm, maybe you should like, squat. You’re too tall. Our privates don’t match up when we stand.”

Him- “You could bend over.”

Me- “You could fly off a bridge. What’s that smell? Ew. Do you smell that? Oh yuck! It’s this mildewey shampoo bottle. Look at the bottom of it. It’s all black and it stinks.”

Him- “Could we focus on the reason we’re in here.”

Me- “What’s that sound?”

<From the hall> – “MOM, I’m home!”

And scene.

Shower sex just isn’t what it’s cracked up to be in the movies or romance novels.