sex update

So far, the sex thing has gone a little something like this:

 

Day 1 -- nice

Day 2 -- pretty good

Day 3 -- my vagina hurt from the traffic so I gave him a hand job. Typing that makes me think about "Rushmore."

Day 4 -- I suggested we give up, and he agreed this 100 days thing is wack.

 

Yay! We made it two days in a row!

 

Okay, now onto other things.

 

1) Our neighbor down the street is a bitch whore. Her kid always comes over to play, and sometimes the kids fight. Sometimes her kid starts it, other times it's my jackasses. Anyway, I figured that's what happens, no big deal. Well, she made some nasty comment to "Mary" when she went over to ask if the bitchwhore's kid could play. "I dunno, are you done being crabby? My bitchwhore spawn said you were in a crabby mood." And then she admitted her kid wasn't even home. Now why are you gonna pick a fight with a 6-year-old? Dirty whore. I want to go fight her but I'm not very strong and don't have good fighting skillz.

 

2) Yeah, my husband lost his job. I am trying not to freak out. He is starting to get down and freak out a little. That's not like him -- I'M the mentally unstable one.

 

STRESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

a decision I may come to regret

Heh heh, no pun intended... heh!

 

Inspired by a fellow blogger who was, in turn, inspired by some magazine article, I have signed on for 100 days in a row of sex. Last night was night 1. It was good. That does not mean I am looking forward to tonight.

 

I am a willing participant in this experiment. I was offered several outs. I thought it would probably be good for us... with the possible added benefit of buying me a few weeks off at the end of this.

 

Also, the other blogger got an iPod out of the deal so I am hoping I will get a great Christmas present if I keep this up.

 

Future updates to come...

 

Oh yeah. Also, we have an established marital rule along the lines of, "What's good for the goose is good for the gander." Except for us it is, "What's good for the goose's ass is good for the gander's." So even though my beloved's love language is supposedly butt sex, no one is speaking his language around here. So don't be traumatized if you know me in real life.

love languages

After some introspection, I determined that my love language has something to do with eating chocolatey baked goods in peace and quiet. If I could be alone with a giant plate of chocolate chip cookies, all would be right in my universe.

 

I shared this with my husband, but then he told me that his love language is butt sex. :(

the more you know...

The longer your partner spends fumbling in the dark with the sex toys bag, the worse news that is for your anal sphincter integrity. So clench in advance, ladies.

oh SNAP! DISCOVERY!

Ladies, I was discovered. Due to my placement at the top of the last Constance Building Newsletter, and the fact that I had not bookmarked the general Constance site (meaning I'd had to type it in so it popped up when my husband went to type in a site) he found my dee-lux apartment.

Now, in my case this was sort of a blessing, as it allowed him to see my side of the situation, without interrupting me the entire time so I couldn't get my thoughts out.

But.

Let this be a warning! He reconized me because I had posted the ages of our kids, and of course because I was bitching about sex.

Anyway, things are improved between us because I am making an effort to get myself in the mood more often. I moved the baby out of our room, and that involved a lot of furniture rearrangement, and he was touched by the amount of effort I'd put into improving our hump life. I understand that the horizontal bop is his love language. I do love him, so I'm trying.

Since this is still supposedly a secret blog, I will share that I watched some VH1 special about shocking reality moments or something last night, and there was a moment about Ryan Seacrest and Simon Cowell having a bit of a catfight. And the sexual tension was, uh, tense, and I have to admit I wish the two of them would start dating and that would be hot.

Anyway, I haven't decided whether I will keep on posting here, as I don't expect my husband will be checking in and I don't have any big secrets... I just need a place to vent. Or, whether I will move across the hall or something... but for now, I wanted to warn you all of the need for using the post-via-email function if you are on a shared computer.

Love,
Constance

trying

Have requested a date tonight at 9:30. Hopefully the kids will cooperate and bedtime won't be drawn out that late, as if has often been since the time change. (But do they sleep in later? No.)

 

We have to get the baby moved out of our room. It sure would be nice to do it in a bed again. We've been working around that for 18 months now. (Her crib is in our room. There isn't another bedroom for her, and she still [STILL!] wakes during the night so we can't put her in with siblings.) That does impact my interest level, because after a while the excitement of doing it everywhere else is gone, and it's like sex on the beach. Sounds nice, but you end up with lots of bug bites and sand in your cervix. Except in my case you can substitute crumbs for the sand. No bug bites -- yet.

 

Casey, I so appreciate your advice and thoughts on all this. It's easy, when someone is venting, to make a complicated situation seem simple and one dimensional -- a good guy and a bad guy. Right and wrong. I appreciate your objective take on all this. (Everyone else, too.)

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more obsessing-- i mean, "meditating"

I still feel horrible. I'm so depressed, and just sick over this. I found some Mens' Health forum discussion about frequency of sex in a marriage, and all the guys posting on there were on about how devastated they are, and how their wives can't love them for who they are.

 

On one hand, it gave me some good perspective on how the Husband must be feeling and why this is such a big deal to him.

 

On the other hand, I really have no idea how to feel differently about having sex when I don't want to. Maybe I should go off my anxiety meds, as he's pushed me to do, since he's concerned about the sexual side effects. Can't help but be a tiny bit bitter about the lack of regard for my emotional balance though. He doesn't really have emotional/mental problems, though, so he has no clue as to what it's like. He's quite convinced that if you're depressed, you just need to *not* be depressed anymore.

 

About the counseling, we did talk a bit more in depth about it, but he said there's logistically no way we can go -- that we can't afford it (though I know there are ways we could) and also because finding a babysitter for this many children this young is 1) nigh impossible and 2) prohibitively expensive.

 

He is very affectionate, very helpful (does tons and tons around the house)... so it's not that he's lacking in that regard. It really is just that I don't want to, or I get a bit uncomfortable or freaked out partway through, and I fear that, so maybe avoid it more than I otherwise would.

 

But the sex ultimatum, for me, is like if I said to him, "You aren't meeting my emotional needs if you don't buy me expensive jewelry." It's that absurd. Just like my love for him and commitment to him doesn't hinge on what he can give me materially, I am totally shaken that his love and commitment to me does hinge on how much sex I give him.

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it's terminal (ew, gross post about sex)

Hello all! My name is Constance, and I have a shameful secret. It is: I don't want to have sex every day.

:(

I know, it's very sad. I am ashamed. But it gets worse! I don't even want to have sex every other day.

In fact, I probably could get by without it indefinitely. I have found that the more I have it, the more I want it... but wanting it the initial time seems to be my weak point.

I am 30-something years old, and for some reason I feel like I am beyond -- nay, above -- obligatory sex. Yes, even with my beloved husband. I cannot pull off the "once a week whether we need it or not" sex life without wanting to stab him. (He wasn't the one making that suggestion, in his defense.)

Anyone who actually knows me can skip this next paragraph, but I was raped in 1999. Date rape. I'm sure the guy thought he was just being convincing -- it's not like he had me at gunpoint or anything. I just felt trapped and he wasn't listening to me, so after a while I thought, "Well, lots of people have one-night stands, I guess." So whatever that is, whether it's technically rape or not, that's what happened and for whatever reason I get pretty freaked out by really any level of "convincing" about sex. Including foreplay. For the most part my thinking is, "If I said it's okay, let's just get on with it."

I know that's not very romantic. Unfortunately my husband is a romantic.

So today, in the middle of a normal drive around town after taking the kids to the park, he mentions that maybe we should go to counseling, because we have such different desires and expectations in that arena.

Now keep in mind, we still do it at least once a week. I'd say we average 5x/month. Sometimes more, occasionally less. I feel like that's a lot. He feels like he can't believe I don't want to have sex with him any more than that. WTF? He also wants me to be more into it. Uh... I don't want to be doing it? So I am already faking it to my fullest ability?

I feel horrible posting about this, because he would be mortified and feel betrayed, but at the same time I am absolutely devastated that he is unhappy enough (or, according to him, "I'm not unhappy..." Again, WTF??? Of course you are if you are saying that instead of, "I'm happy!") to bring up counseling (he's not a talky kind of guy) and also, I hate that he thinks my sexual preferences need to be "fixed" somehow. If I suggested he was some sort of sick deviant for wanting sex every fucking day, or more days than not, he would be furious and hurt. But it is supposed to be okay for him to imply I am cold and uncaring and there is something wrong with me if I don't want it any more than I do.

And, as a pleasant aside, this whole encounter today? Definintely NOT making me want it. It makes me feel so betrayed and erodes the intimacy in our relationship. No idea how to jump back in from there.

need to get this off my chest

FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Everyone SHUT THE FUCK UP and leave me alone! Stop covering yourselves with mud and paint and then crying about taking baths!

 

I am way overstimulated right now. Having four kids around 24/7 doesn't help that. I need a sensory deprivation chamber so I can lock them in it.

 

Oh, God help me through this day.

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a (hidden) open letter to my husband

Dear Husband,

 

I love you so. I am glad you are creative and have awesome ideas and are driven enough to work toward starting your own business.

 

However, part of the reason I was excited to spend my days with little people who scream on me and use my shirt as a Kleenex, was that marketing-speak drives me mad with boredom. I consider this a disability -- as some people cannot recognize faces, I cannot absorb anything to do with marketing or bandwidth or boring boring boring bleh. 

 

You are killing my brain. I bought you a notebook. Write all your thoughts about your business down in it and then you can stop telling them to me.

 

Love,

your wife, who wants to talk about reality television and what the baby did today that you'll never guess
 

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You rock. That's why Blockbuster's offering you one month of Blockbuster Total Access, No Cost.

the rage has to be unhealthy

I don't really blame my husband for being gone during his once-a-week night out. I begrudge him that time like crazy, but I don't hate him for it or anything. I want to punch him in the face for it sometimes, yeah, but only in a friendly way.

But right now, for example, it is 7:57 p.m. Bedtime here is 7 because my kids are evil morning people and wake up by 6 each morning.

Right now I can hear that G5 is tiptoeing to her brothers' room and talking to them. This is after a 30-minute tantrum, after I had to lay in bed with them one at a time to get them to stop hyperventilating, after I put the baby to bed, then G5 to bed, then G5 needed markers and a coloring book because she wasn't tired, then she came downstairs and needed medicine... I need a fucking break.

Today was a rough day and I really handled it well, for me. I didn't lose my temper with them. I tried to make the day fun and not stay angry at them for the dumb-kid things they did.

Still, though, I've been with them for 11 hours straight by the time he leaves. And he deserves the time away, and he offers and gives me time away whenever I want it, but that doesn't negate the fact that the 12-14 hour day I put in with them is a long one.

And that our cat just threw up in the fucking living room.

why the bloody hell can't my daughter potty train for the love of god?

My darling eldest, D5, or G5, or whatever I decided to call her, is going to be 6 in June. She's supposed to start kindergarten in the fall.

She still has motherfucking potty accidents all the fucking time.

I cannot express what an issue this has been in our relationship.

She started potty training before she was 2. She'd even stop playing to go pee on the potty, and I was super-excited. But then I found out we had twins on the way, and assumed she'd regress anyway, so we never pushed it. Just kept the potty around.

The summer of her 2nd birthday, she switched daycare situations a handful of times, moved, got two new babies, and all around had a shitty time. I did not pressure her to use the toilet -- in fact I tried to shield her from family members' intimations that she should be out of diapers.

After she turned 3, it started getting to me. I think it was sometime that fall, so she was 39ish months. I tried pull-ups, tried undies, tried nakey-time, tried reward charts...

And it dragged on. Her pediatrician said she just wasn't ready, and to drop it for a few months. I tried that a few times. Finally she was turning 5 and still not what I'd consider potty trained. Thank God, she doesn't poop her pants. She mastered that first, actually.

But she still pees herself regularly. It has gotten better, gradually. Now, 3 months shy of her 6th birthday, she pees herself nearly every day, but it isn't a full voiding of her bladder. Normally the urine doesn't even go through to her pants, although tonight it did. And to my sofa.

She is completely blase about this, which is infuriating.

We've looked into medical help, but 1) the tests available are invasive, 2) if a physical condition exists, she is likely to outgrow it on her own in a few years if she is going to outgrow it at all, and 3) success rates for the surgical option are not effective enough for me to justify putting her through all that.

FUUUUUUUUCK!

passive-aggressive

My in-laws, who I do generally like a lot, have a habit of bringing people to my house without asking or even mentioning it first. Inviting strangers to my kids' birthday parties, on the extreme end.

But less extreme is my MIL and FIL's habit of bringing a niece or nephew along every time they visit us. Because we don't already have enough kids, and we aren't already sick of kids, and we'd love one or two more kids to take care of on a weekend when we already have a houseful.

In theory it is lovely to visit with the kids but in reality I don't like kids very much.

Anyway, the worst part is that they do not ask us about this or inform us about this in advance.

So, because I am passive-aggressive, I do not scoop the litterbox (in the basement, in a room adjacent to the futon in the playroom where company is known to sleep) when I am surprised by an additional guest.

Whoops! Didn't have time to clean since I didn't know you were coming, teenaged niece! Do you smell something? I don't know what that could be. NIGHT NIGHT!

intro and bitching about sex

I am all over this dee-lux apartment in the sky-hi-high. Except I would totally have a shitty basement apartment.

Anyway, I have a Husband. Usually we get along well and he is my best friend. Usually. We also have four kids. Our oldest is a 5-year-old girl who I'll call G5. We have twin boys who are 3 who I'll call B3a and B3b. And we have a baby who I'll call G1.

So this rocks, because I adore my family but sometimes I want to admit that I fucking hate them all and just want to get drunk all the damn time and watch Reno 911 marathons or something. So yeah, thanks for this, Constance the first. And the main reason I want a place to vent without potentially embarrassing my husband, who I do love...

I do not have a strong sex drive. I wish I did. I have a strong sleep drive. And a strong cookie-eating drive, and a strong sit-around-on-the-internet-watching-tv drive. But I feel like I should not have to have obligatory sex. And he feels like it shouldn't be obligatory, but I should WANT it. This causes every bit of the conflict we have in our marriage. And that sucks.