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A New Beginning

Two professional women: both married with kids and both juggling clients, reports, potty training, packed lunches, chores, dogs, cats, errands, husbands and …”what was that you said? SEX?”
That three-letter word that once was so frequent, so liberating, so yummy has been sidelined in a sea of life, work and snot.
It is time.
Time to put sex back on a pedestal by injecting some extra spice into our relationships.

A New Beginning

Christmas came and went.  The New Year passed by with barely a spritzer in sight.  January was a haze of crazy work days and reflux-filled nights.  The wheels of time spun in hyper speed and as we bid adieu to 2012 and welcomed in 2013 my feet didn’t seem to touch the ground in the mad dash effort to get everything done before the baby came. So, if my feet weren’t touching the ground, there was not much hope of my bootie touching the bed long enough to get locked in a passionate embrace with the Duke.  Poor Duke.  He had to keep his rising testosterone levels in check whilst I nested, worked, swelled up, nested some more, swelled up even further and could not fathom how sex could even be on his mind with me in such a bloated state.  Some people dig sex in the last few weeks of pregnancy – it’s a fact, I don’t.   It’s all just too close for comfort.  The baby’s head, his manhood, my huge belly…. you get the picture.   And as the baby was being induced a week early there wasn’t even the excuse that we needed to have sex to bring on labor.   So damn, our mission to “Do It” had not only flown completely out the window, it had migrated to the Southern Hemisphere.

And then early February beautiful, precious Baby Duchess was born. A blessing of all blessings that we are counting each day.

Hand & Bunny

Enter the postpartum period: there is the sleep deprivation, the raging hormones, the hot flushes, the chills, the overwhelming need to protect your cubs at any given moment and there is also the GUNK.  Tons of it oozing out of your body at any given moment. And to deal with the gunk, you need pads. Pads for the comedy boobs that seem to have taken on a life of their own as they spray milk across the room; pads for the blood that swooshes out of your contracting uterus.   The body turns into a Fort Knox of pads.  Even Houdini would have a time of it trying to get around these pads to find the sex zone. So for the Duke he had no chance.  Once again, poor Duke.  Once we got home he started giving me the eye.  I gave him the eye back.  But not the “come hither darling” eye, the “seriously??!” eye.  To take me on, you need to take the pads on and that ain’t sexy.  Hell no.

But time passes and as time passes, the gunk diminishes.

And then there is now.  Six weeks postpartum. The breast pads remain in force but the panty pads have gone and the gunk is gone.  The green light has been given by my doctor to do the deed and dare I say it, the deed sounds pretty good to me. Yet  I go back to work in a week and we now have another kid, so let’s see how we fare.  It’s even more reason why we need to keep up these Missions. Here’s to a new beginning.

As for Miss Lee – she should be blooming in her second trimester and swinging from the chandeliers. What’s her excuse?!

 

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