BloggingDangerously

Devoir & Devour: Like Water for Chocolate

The past few weeks have been INSANE here.  Between my INSANE job, the kids crazy sports schedules, some back-to-school illnesses and being a full-time, albeit WOEFULLY UNDERPAID BLOGGER, I have to admit that sleep has been trumping sex lately in my house.

When things get crazy, we get complacent about marriage maintenance - talking, saying please & thank you, cuddling, SEX.  And then I notice that I start to get cranky and it gets worse and worse until either he or I say, "You know what you/I need?  A good F---" and then we do, and then it's good again. 

Today's homework is aimed at ERADICATING the complacency.  Here's what I want you to do... 

Remember that movie, Like Water for Chocolate, where she put all of her sexual energy into cooking with delicious results for everyone?  I want you to do the same thing, take something commonplace and turn it into a firecracker!

I want you to pick a word that you both use often.  A word like "work" or "water" or "television" or "football" and decide, together, that whenever someone (or you) say that word, you are going to think about sex.  All day long, when you say the word, or hear the word, or think the word you're going to use that word to jumpstart sexy thoughts.

You can also use it to make veiled references to sex to each other in front of other people. "Honey, can I have a glass of water?" etc.

You can also do this if you're not currently in a relationship.  Pick a word and use that word the same way but instead of thinking about a specific partner, pick any fantasy you'd like - whether it's a fully choreographed fantasy or just a commitment to yourself that you and your version of Carmen Electra, or just your right hand are all going to bed 10 minutes early tonight to take care of "Football."

CAUTION: Don't choose a word that requires concentration.  I was thinking that I would choose the word "interview" because it's being said OVER AND OVER AND OVER at my house these days - but then I realized that if I said, "I want to talk about my interview." and he started pawing at me, it would NOT GO WELL.

So words like interview, dialysis, foreclosure, etc. should probably NOT be chosen.

I'm going to go with Water.

I'd love to hear how it goes. (anonymously or not - it's up to you!)

Subliminal Message. Actually, it's not subliminal. He's trying to kill me.

Remember my crazy husband?

So he goes to a gun show a while ago and comes home with GAS MASKS - 6 of them, 1 for each of us.

I'm kind of blown away by how much they cost - although he tells me he got a great deal and I have to believe him because I don't price shop gas masks very often.

And then he says he's going to put them in the storage bin with all of the rest of the armageddon stuff like beef jerky, 200 pounds of rice, fish disease medicine for use in lieu of penicilin and the rest of my c-section drugs.

But first he makes each of us put the gas masks on to "fit" them.  OBVIOUSLY we wouldn't want to take the time to size them in the event of a NUCLEAR EVENT.

Of course my children are so young that they are pretty much outgrowing clothing every 2-4 months so I'm not sure how that's going to work but everything goes okay with the sizing until he gets to my oldest son who is claustrophobic and COMPLETELY freaks out.  This bodes ill for him during armageddon.

And then it's my turn.  And my mask DOES NOT FIT.  It's WAY too big.

My husband sort of looks at it, shrugs and instead of returning it for a smaller size, just tosses it into the box.  And I, who think this whole excercise is slightly insane, starts saying, "What? I don't GET one? I'm the only one in the family who is NOT growing.  I'm not going to grow into that thing!"  But my husband just laughs.

And I kind of lose it because I DONT WANT TO DIE.  And then I realize that I'm being as crazy as YOU KNOW WHO and that I don't even WANT to live if there's a nuclear event and I have to eat rice and beef jerky and take fish medicine.

But he says, to comfort me, "Dont worry, the boys will grow into yours."

So now I basically have to hope that Armageddon holds off until they can use my gas mask and I can use a kid sized one.  Or, y'know, FOREVER.

 

 

Division of Labor

Because I can't sit down I do a lot around the house.  I'm not saying that I do more than my husband but I like to think that I help out more than a lot of working fathers help out when they're home.

I get the kids ready most mornings, pack their snacks, remind them to wear sneakers on gym day, bring their library book on library day, etc.

I walk them to the bus stop every morning and I cook dinner almost every night.  I fill out the picture day forms and help coordinate the parent volunteers in the classroom (even if work keeps me from actually BEING one of the parent volunteers most of the time.)

But yesterday my wonderful, sweet 3 year old was being a TREMENDOUS pain in the ass.  She was overtired and COMPLETELY CRANKY and was TORTURING her father and me.

We both struggled to behave as adults as she demonstrated the WORST characteristics of a three year old.

Finally I turned to him and said, "I work for a reason.  Take care of that." gesturing to her over my shoulder as I headed toward my office.

It was 50/50 whether he would laugh or throw something at me.

Luckily he laughed because our anniversary is next Tuesday and I plan to get some.

G-Spot: The Unexplained Injury Report

This post comes to you from Ginny at Raising Little Heisler's and reminds me that my husband and I are going to have to get much more careful about what we say as the children get older!

...

 This summer we've had our share of broken bones.  First, my son broke his wrist and then my husband broke his ankle in 6 places.  He won't be able to walk for six weeks from the day of the break until he gets his walking boot.  I was giving him a hard time about what a pain in the ass waiting on him hand and foot has been and this conversation followed:

Him: It wasn't that long ago that I was waiting on YOU with your busted knee.

Me: It has been almost five years AND you helped me bust my knee!

His mother: How did he help you bust your knee?

Hubby and I broke out into fits of laughter!

My 9yo: No really, how did you bust it?

Hubby: We'll tell you when you're older.

My 9yo: They did it having sex Gigi!

... 

That's a GREAT story!  I had  similar situation arise after a "furniture moving" injury (if you know what I mean.)  Share your "unexplained injury" stories in the comments.  If you have a story you would like to share on G-Spot, email me!

Dear Mr. Hiring Manager,

Hi, it's me.  Remember me?  The person you interviewed THREE TIMES 2 weeks ago?  And THEN you called my references?  And then you told me that it may take a couple of days but that you wanted to set up one more interview with someone else?  And then NOTHING?

So, I get that you're busy - that's why you need more people!  And I get that it's the end of the quarter - and that you're in sales - but so am I and I'm selling myself.

And since you seemed to lose interest (although you weren't MAN ENOUGH to say it?) I started seeing someone else, ANOTHER hiring manager.  And SHE'S FABULOUS.  She calls when she says she'll call and she tells me that she LOVES me.

She's taking me home to meet her VP. (2000 miles away) And she's paying for EVERYTHING. 

So this is your last chance to call and tell me how WRONG you were and what a MISTAKE you made.  Because once I'm gone, I'm gone for good!

Oh, and did I mention she's your #1 competitor?

Happy Selling!

Love,

Kit