...get your freak on

As I crawled into bed at midnight after a day of homework, tumbling, volunteering, and cleaning, I looked over at the SBF. Our conversation went a little like this.....

Me: "Hey, do you want to have sex? Because if so, I need to go take a shower."
SBF: "If you're exhausted, we can just go to bed."
Me: "Well...if you are working from home tomorrow. We can "catch up" then.

Exhausted and happy, I cuddled up to him and he began to sing church songs.

SBF: "Amazing grace...How sweet the sound?"
Me: "WTF is wrong with you. Shut the f___k up! Why the hell are you singing church hymns?"
SBF: "I sing because I'm happy. I sing because I'm free. His eye is on the sparrow. That's the reason why I sing."
ME: "I swear I will punch you in the damn eye if you don't stop singing that shit."
SBF: "You are so going to hell for that." He continues to sing in my ear while he has me in a bear hug.
Me: "Jesus Christ, let me go. I'm going to get in the shower,"

Finally, my Xanax kicked in and I fell asleep. Glad to know I got a pass and a coupon to redeem the next day. I have been with this man for 16 years and I still think he is hot as shit. Our lives have changed so much over the last 16 years, but one thing has remain untouched..."great sex". Confession: I like having sex with my husband. It's free especially now that he has had a vasectomy. It's a stress relief. It doesn't require a babysitter. It's a form of communication when words just don't work anymore. I know for some this may be too much information, but I think it's an aspect of our lives as women that we don't talk about enough.

I love the shit out of the SBF, but I don't like him sometimes. Marriage is hard...any relationship is hard. People will change and grow. I look at him daily and ask myself "wtf was I thinking?" I have contemplated writing up divorce papers just for the months of October-February because I live with a cheap man that protests any holiday that Hallmark celebrates. I have wished to just "break up" for a couple of weeks. During those times when I think I may not be able to cohabitate safely with that man of mine, he will come out of the shower and I'll be damned if he stirs something in my soul that reels me back in. It is animalistic...a primal sensation that tells me I must mate with that man.

It has been that way since the first time I talked to him. There was no long courtship. There was no "whooing". I was an easy kill because I chose to be. Fast forward 16 years later and 3 kids, so much shit has changed in our lives. We have had one thing remain constant..."great sex". I protect it because I feel that is all we have left that has not been stripped from us. Age, jobs, children, finances, housework, homework, community service, and just f_______g life have given us a run for our money. But, we have one thing to fall back on when the shit hits the fan. I like to get laid and he does too. Plain and simple.

I have had many roll their eyes at me and almost gasp at the thought that I am having sex with my husband. My question: "Wth would I not????" I may not make the time to tell him I love him every day or give him a hug and a kiss when he walks out the door. I may not even make the time to communicate with his ass during the day, but when that bedroom door closes...dammit I am ready to "talk"!! Sometimes the best solution to an argument is to just f___k it out.

I am not in anyway trying to boast, but if I could give one piece of advice it would be "Ladies, get your freak on." I think society has screwed us with these images of "relations" entailing candles, soft music, massages, and pretty lingerie. BULLSHIT!! There can be a hell of a lot of romance in locking the bedroom door, stripping down and saying "we have 20 minutes before the kids wake up!" I grew up on soap operas and I thought that every sexual encounter with my husband should have "Tonight, I celebrate my love for you..." I would like to thank Days of our Lives for giving me an unrealistic view of what the bedroom action should be like. I am not afraid to admit that sometimes it goes a little something like this..."Hey, ya wanna do it?" Or better yet the idea that these encounters must take place in a beautiful bedroom with clean sheets and shit is again...BULLSHIT!! There is nothing wrong with finding an alternative location...closets, laundry room, car in the garage, and bathroom. There are no off limit locations. AND we do not have to have a full lingerie set up, flowing hair, freshly shaved legs, and full make up!!

I call him the SBF because to me he is. It keeps the fire burning inside. Confession: I still think he is hot shit. Now, that does not mean I don't think he's an asshole, dumb ass, son of a f____r, piece of shit, bastard, asshat, dream killer, and Debbie downer sometimes. He can be all of those things in one day, but somehow his confidence or presence or f_____g pheromones still speak to me when night falls. Let it be known that I call myself a "MILF" or "golden". Why?? Because if I don't think so, who in the hell else will??? What we must have is confidence that "We are the shit!!"....MAMA STILL GOT IT!!! The sexier we feel about ourselves the better sex will be for us. I promise. We are sitting on a pretty fine treasure...literally. We are golden in every sense. I know we are mothers. I know we are a wives. I know we have deadlines. I know we are tired. In honor of my favorite movie...Friday, "I know this ladies....but Imma get you laid tonight". Why? Because we freaking deserve it!!!! The world would be a better place if more of us would just get laid. Giggle

There is an unspoken intimacy in sex that can take place that can work miracles on a marriage. Tensions decrease. Requests to clean up are met. His dirty ass socks on the floor don't seem so bad. Arguments over how much you spent at Target sort of fade into the distance. Calories are worked off. For the most part, I get a glimpse of that fella I met in 1996. I get to see my best friend...not my husband, not the father of my children, but my buddy. I see the reason why all of this shit started in the first place. I see how I got here and why I am still here.

So, as a mother, wife, PTA mom, volunteer mom, and former Parent of the Year (giggle), I send you forth with permission to be a woman in the streets and a freak in the sheets.





 

...son of a beach

Rain, rain...100% chance of rain...son of a beach. Day two of heavy rain at the beach is enough to make me accidentally take my meds twice again. I survived yesterday so I am thinking it won't hurt me. Being in a zombie like trance may keep me from streaking through the condo's courtyard. At least I know I am not in shock by the weather. As I was hiding out at the gazebo last night, I was comforted by the lady who came out on her patio and looked to the skies and said "unfuckingbelievable". Right on sister!! The sad part is I am a parent. I cannot just say the hell with it and drink myself into a stupor, sleep the day away, watch adult TV, or read a book. I am a mother and somewhere it is written when you become a mother and sign all your hopes and dreams away that you become superwoman.

Luckily, I amongst other parents. Four adults and 5 girls under the age of 10 can get a little tricky. There is an unspoken understanding that it's okay to use your "I'm going to lose my shit pass" and go hide in the bathroom (my place of choice), closet, or one of the bunk beds. For the last two days, I have struggled with my responsibilities. Will I rise to meet the challenge that awaits? Will I be the mother that comes up with alternative activities today or the one that sits in the corner zoned out? Or will I be the one who says "Your gymnastics skit really sucks ass." or "I don't want to watch you or anything about you. How about you watch the back of your eyelids?". So far, I am in the corner. I am trying my best to channel that positive thinking. So far all I can do is throw up my middle fingers to the rain, the clouds, the thunder, the lightning, and these kids that I love with all of my heart. At least the darkness has not plagued all of the other parents. They are my lifeline right now. They are dancing and shit,,, they Wobble and sing "we are, we are,  not your ordinary family...close as close can be". Bless their heart. I hate that damn song. Damn right we are not your ordinary family. Right now we are starring in a ratchet reality show and definitely close as close can be. Did this mother f____r just bring the twin mattress into the leaving room so these kids can jump from the back of the couch to the mattress?

Yesterday, we ventured out to the movies and shopping outlets with 9 people and 4 umbrellas. We arrived to find that every tourist in Destin had the same f___g idea. After standing in line for what seemed like eternity, we discovered that the next 3 shows of Despicable Me 2 were sold out. SHOCKER!! Honestly, I didn't want to see the damn movie anyway, but again thank goodness for the other parents. We bought tickets to the 5:30 pm showing. Great!! Three hours to kill and the savages are starving. After learning there are 45 minute waits at every damn restaurant, we decide to leave the area and return for the 5:30 pm movie. Loading 9 people into an SUV can be a task. I can't help but to think that the SBF did not mean to almost run over my foot with four toes. I choose to believe that he did not realize I wasn't in the car yet. He didn't realize the door was still open and could not feel the rain coming in. He was obviously so distracted. My first reaction was to stop the tire with my finger of course which left a nice tire burn on my finger. Luckily, the four letters words that I screamed caught his attention. 

Our restaurant of convenience and choice was....the WAFFLE HOUSE. I am in no way shitting on the Waffle House. I like the Waffle House. Luckily the Waffle House was empty. I guess everyone was eating at the local seafood restaurants. We have the place to ourselves. I have tapped out as a parent. My finger is burning and all I want to do is drink my coffee and say a mass of four letter words. I am not alone though. My friend's husband has gone mute. His silence is comforting. I wonder if he is on the verge of losing his shit. Sadly, I hope so. I hate to be alone. Giggle. The SBF decided to purchase 8 song selections on the jukebox. He was delusional at this point. I can only hope the video cameras in Waffle House post his dancing in public on YouTube. I do hope they look over my behavior at the table.  Don't judge me.

 

We made it back to the shopping center just in time for the girls to go shopping before the movie. We spent the majority of our time in Justice....just-the-f_____g place I want to be...in a children's store full of neon shit, zebra pillows, lip gloss, BFF necklaces, and other kids. I tap out again as a parent and leave. I venture into a t-shirt store that will personalize any clothing item they have. They have logos on the wall that you can pick from. I was at home. Tons of inappropriate shit covered the walls. I felt like a kid at a candy store. What ratchet shit could I get for myself and my friend? Something that says we are mamas that still got it. After picking my fave logo and having it put on a tank top, I was on cloud nine. Until, the lady told me that I owed her $63 bucks for two damn tank tops with shit on it. I know I have grown as a person because back in the day I would have told her to lick the crack of my ass and walked out. The tag on the tank top said $19.99. They failed to tell me the extra cost for putting words on it. After saying shit and damn about three times, I take out my wet money and toss it at the deceitful bitch. 

We finally arrived at the movies and I can't wait until the damn lights go off. 3D movies make me a little sick sometimes and just our luck the only seats available were the ones that were the second row from the front of the large ass screen. I found myself relating to the purple minions in the movie. Not

only did the rain and salt water have me sporting the exact same hair do, I felt like going around biting shit. I could only verbalize monster like screams when a kid would tell me they have to go piss or they wanted something to drink. Anytime they asked me to do something, I wanted to growl.

We returned home to one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. Double rainbows...I took full credit for this phenomena since I decided to do a spiritual dance in the parking lot of Waffle House in hopes that the rain would go away. I took it as a sign of peace in the valley.

The night ended with more dance offs. The more it rains...the closer we become one family all right. Two dysfunctional families have meshed into one big ass crazy family. Hell if you can't beat them, I guess join them. Meet my other alter ego...Twerking Tammy of the Temple. You can't see her mic or her frog cape, but she puts on a great performance. Shout out to the lady in the t-shirt store for making two mommies "twerk tank tops". I told the girls "twerk" meant "skipping". Pretty sure that will come back to bite me in the ass just like removing my privacy filter on my IG account and posting pics with hashtags milf and mamastillgotit on them. I have opened up my world to a diverse group of followers: porn stars, little boys, and perverts. NICE!!!! My instagram account resembles some shit from MySpace. Hell, when life hands you lemons or torrential rain pour....twerk somethin'. 

 

.......B.D.K.M.V

I was having a pretty good day at work today. I got my paperwork turned in, tested some ears, returned emails....basically a productive day. To top that off, a young coworker had just finished complementing me on my outfit. So, my happy ass decided to take a short cut via nature trail through the woods to another building. I was feeling good...looking good...and dammit...

My ankle sort of gives out and I rip my damn shoe...in the middle of the woods. Shit! So, I hobbled back to my office and passed the coworker who was now looking at me like wth??

Never have I let having my big toe amputated stop me. I refuse to let it slow me down. I'm not ashamed. It is what it is. So....

Today was no different from any other day. Yep, I taped my shoe together. Technically, my foot is taped to my shoe. Giggle (it's okay to giggle). And as I walk to my car, I will hold my head high so the world may see that "Mama still got it" ...tape and all. Ha!!

Really, the sad part is I could give two shits what it looks like. I actually think it's hilarious to say the least and the best way to get a new pair of shoes out of the SBF. So, if you are having a bad day look at whatever is bringing you down and tell it.......

                         B.D.K.M.V

At least, that's what I chose to do today. This positive thinking may be working after all.