My story in If Mom’s Happy is mostly fantasy, but this little snippet is straight out of real-life experience. Not waking the kids is definitely ‘a thing’ for most parents at some point. It’s not that we were trying to hide the fact we have sex, we wanted them to sleep so that we CAN have sex. Nothing kills the moment like a crying baby.
It’s kind of ironic. Most women spend their first few years of sexuality concerned about not getting pregnant and not getting a disease. Sure, there’s exploration and lots of fun, but the underlying problems with being female are always there, lurking.
Then, if we decide to have kids, sex takes on this other role. For some of us, sexual freedom, and sometimes the act itself, is removed from procreation. (When we were going through infertility treatments, everything was timed. Sperm and eggs were ‘collected’ and manipulated in sterile spaces while we were in different rooms.)
When women are done procreating, sex can morph back into a wholly recreational activity. The freedom in not having any of those old worries is truly liberating. But, if we’ve had children, they are around and in the house for many years. The way we deal with these little interlopers varies and the stories in this collection reflect how women cope with their resurgent sexuality.
Pooja Pande’s lyrical “Tocks in My Ticker” had me nodding my head in understanding–there were plenty of times when I was reading bedtime stories to my kids while my mind wandered to what would happen once they were asleep.
Sara Dobie Bauer’s I Need Your Package puts a hot spin on the delivery man trope–who hasn’t at least looked at the guy in the brown suit as he lugs a package to your door?
Andrea Lani’s Toy Story reminds us that we all have our own pace and our own needs to accept the changes in our sexual needs and moods. The other stories in the collection all resonated with me at some level.
Kristina Wright’s In the Early Morning Light captures the desperate exhaustion of new mothers and the push-pull between the desire to sleep or play.
My story, A Desperate State is about a mom who has slightly older kids and is craving wanton sex out of the confines of her master bedroom and regular schedule. Connie manages to get all of her kids out of the house for a weekend so she and her hubby can make their way from room to room while being as loud as they want–because there’s no one in the house to hear them.
If Mom’s Happy: Stories of Erotic Mothers, Edited by Brandy Fox is available in e-book and print format.
After our first child was born, there wasn’t a huge shift in our sexual practice as a couple. We could feel pretty rest-assured that she would stay in her bedroom most of the night, and we could still fool around on the downstairs sofa or outside on the patio for example. It wasn’t until she hit her early teens that we realized the freedom we had was gone for a while. When she started staying up as late as we do, or even later than we do, it became clear that the only way we’d have sex on the dining room table again is to get the kids out of the house. It’s not that we have a particularly comfortable dining room table, but use it as a metaphor for freedom. The ability to take our clothes off where ever we were at the moment and get to business was reduced to nothing. And, as a consequence, a little bit of the excitement of just falling into a hot and heavy lovemaking session at random times and places died with it. We’re at the stage where we still kiss–and even in front of the kids–and maybe do a little touching through clothes if we don’t think anyone can see us, followed by a quick trip up the stairs and to the bedroom behind a closed and locked door. I’d normally be very excited by the idea of someone walking in on us in the middle of sex, but that doesn’t count when it comes to my kids. I know the oldest knows we have sex, but when she’s around I find myself being more quiet than I would like. My urge is to scream loudly during orgasm and let the whole world know I’m a very happy woman, but I’ve managed to curb that a lot. Sometimes, I feel like I need to bury my head in the pillow and scream to let something out. One night I let loose with a long and loud satisfied moan and realized my daughter was in the hallway close outside the door, hovering to knock to ask a question. I hope she realized I was having a good moment, but I haven’t actually brought it up with her. I imagine the conversation we might have. “Erm…did you hear anything, unusual last night,” I would ask. She’d look at me and roll her eyes, “You mean the loud noises you were making? Yuck.” “Oh…did it bother you?” “Mom…eeeuw. I know what you were doing in there. I don’t want to talk about it.” So, I figure it’s better to let her draw her own conclusions when she sees us kissing at the kitchen sink. She’s become way more adept at catching our meaningful glances and has gone so far as to remark on them with a casual, “oh…gross, you guys!” Being demonstrative and open about sex with my kids has always been something I’ve wanted, but there are limits. So when they are home, it’s a show that’s behind a locked door and the sound effects are turned way, way down low.