My friends and I recently completed a marriage survey, to see how we fare on the whoopee meter. The consensus among my mom friends is, "I just don't have the energy -- it's not a priority," whereas the consensus among my dad friends is, "For the love of god! Somebody please touch my junk!"
Poor guys. Pre-kids, that was a typical pastime. Post-kids, it's a rare and miraculous occurrence.
No complaints on the love side. I love my tall, dark and lanky man more today than yesterday, but we definitely, definitely traded in our mojo for monkey puppets (cue groan... but at least I made my point).
The mojo remained when the first kid was born. That was like a honeymoon -- everything was rapture -- "Can you believe what an awesome baby we made?!"
But then we made a second awesome baby. And then they started to get bigger, messier, and eventually won the arm wrestle for our attention. Although our relationship with our kids is close to perfect, our "us time" has slid down the chain of importance. Somewhere between "shave bikini line" and "buy new socks," is "make time for relationship."
Yes, we've become really efficient partners at our private, two-kid daycare, but we've also turned into the Golden Girls when it comes to partying (and I'm referring to the Sophia character; not Blanche).
I turned to the comedy experts, cause I felt I needed some light-hearted advice on the subject. Deb McGrath, star of Little Mosque on the Prairie, said she and hubby Colin Mochrie eventually put lovin' on the calendar when they had a youngster: "Here's the thing -- if you schedule it and you know it's a "sex day" you get there in your mind. Spontaneity is overrated. At least with scheduled sex the legs are always shaved!" (See why I love comedians!?)
I'm taking initiative, and committing to a whoopee makeover:
•In my list of priorities, I'm going to move affection from number 687, up to number 7 (between "teach kids to read" and "eat more vegetables").
•I'm not going to wait till summer to shave my legs.
•I'm not going to make breakfast wearing socks and a sports bra anymore -- I'm going to wear clothing; maybe even clean clothing!
Hooray!
Join me mamas, and let the second honeymoons begin!