We spent Labor Day weekend at the beach house and I'm not going to lie to you, It was fucking fabulous. We spent Friday night out on the deck enjoying 80 degree weather and looking at the moon.
In case you missed it...
We spent Saturday on the beach - from 8am until 8pm. We were going to have chicken salad for dinner but that's not how you say goodbye to summer in New England so we had this instead:
I woke up early the next morning dying of thirst (lobsters are SALTY) and snapped this:
This is a picture of my bedroom at the beach. It's 7 feet wide and 8 feet long and my mattress is on a futon frame on the floor but I wouldn't trade it for any other room in the house.
There is no door on my bedroom and the kids room is 3 feet away - also without a door - so there isn't much hanky panky going on when we're at the beach. Well except this time because we were desperate - but I'm not telling you where in case my family ever finds this blog and realizes they can never eat lunch at the kitchen table again. (Ha! Just kidding sis!)
ANYWAY, by Monday my husband was whispering dirty promises in my ear every chance he got. At one point he even turned the word "unisex" into "U need sex" and was TOTALLY BUSTED by my 8yo who said, "Did you just say, 'you need sex?'"
My husband choked and said, "No! I said, 'unisex.'"
My 8yo nodded slowly. I bowed my head out of respect for the death of the Age of Innuendo.
By the time we got home on Monday my husband had made it perfectly clear that our bed would be the scene of much excitement later.
I made it clear that I had some work to do before that happened.
So when he came up the stairs at 9:15 and looked at me expectantly I said, "I still have work to do."
He looked at me like I betrayed him.
"Just because you think it's time, doesn't mean I know it's time." I told him. "I need a 10 minute warning so I can finish what I'm working on."
He went into the bathroom. I finished up my work but because he was still in the bathroom I couldn't get ready for bed.
Finally he came out and I got ready for bed. I put on pajamas. He pitched a fit.
"Why are you getting dressed!?" he WHINED.
"I like to get dressed." I told him.
"I'm a sure thing." he told me.
"Maybe I'm not." he said.
I climbed into bed. He lay there. I lay there.
"Are we doing this?" I asked.
"I'm tired." he said.
"Fine." I said.
"Just because I'm tired, doesn't mean I wouldn't respond if you made a pass." he said.
'This was your idea!" I objected. "I have a ton of work to do. I was being ACCOMODATING. You can't tell me all day that you want to do it and then blame me when it gets late and you get tired and it doesn't get done."
"Ok." he said.
I rolled over. He rolled over.
This was going no where.
"Actually," I said, "my hip is killing me. Can you rub it?"
And the rest is history...
(You didn't think I was going to let you down, did you?)
Today, I got up at 7am, did 5.5 miles on the elliptical, worked, took my daughters for back-to-school haircuts, bought a present for a friend who just had a baby, got a lampshade for the lamp my husband broke, bought new hand towels for the beach house (they keep getting lost,) cleaned out the fridge to make room for the groceries I bought to make meals for the week, made salsa from scratch, tacos from scratch, pumpkin bread (for back to school snacks) and packed up all the kids "back to school supplies."
5 minutes ago I turned to my husband and said, "Do NOT even THINK about it."