The Imperfect Parent

Mominatrix

Kristen Chase — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 00:00:00 EDT

Most women are more than happy to trade in the sometimes endearing but mostly annoying symptoms of pregnancy. Of course, there’s always that one freakish mom whose body somehow found its zen state at around 32 weeks and makes it her mission to proclaim her love of the beautifully bloated baby body any time she can.

But even if you were one of the lucky ones who made it your entire nine months with only a couple of extra zits, a craving for capers, and a midnight charley horse, you’d probably agree that pregnancy bliss has more to do with the actual baby you’re carrying and less to do with everything that comes along with it.

Except for those outrageously hot dreams.

Thanks to one hell of a hormonal cocktail, most pregnant women experience some sort of erotic dreams during those 40 weeks, sort of like nature’s consolation prize -- throwing women a bone, or if they’re lucky, Brad Pitt’s boner to make up for what can be pretty challenging sex, particularly in the latter months where having sex can be as comfortable as your OB inserting a dry, cold speculum up your hoo-hoo.

Of course, the dreams can sometimes border on the ridiculous, because they are dreams after all, but perhaps that’s what makes them so incredibly satisfying. You don’t hear pregnant women giggling over the dream where her husband did her doggy style for the 400th time.

And really, your lucid fantasies are probably pretty run-of-the-mill -- a naked cleaning man who folds your laundry while giving you oral -- that sort of thing.

So stop wallowing over those few unwanted souvenirs from your pregnancy and use the best ones to your advantage, whether you’re currently pregnant or not.

Write them down

There’s no need for some cheesy dream journal that tell you what it means that you got off by some hot dude dressed up like a mailman sucking chocolate off your toes. Send Freud elsewhere. Keep a notebook by your bedside and immediately after you wake up, write down your dreams. No need to purchase erotic romance novels or rent porn. You’ve got your own right at your very fingertips.

Recreate them

If the sex worked in your dreams, then why not try to replicate things in your own bedroom. You may not be able to hire Ryan Reynolds and his team of sexy clones to assist you, but you can always just keep your eyes closed. And tell your partner to keep his mouth shut. Or otherwise occupied.

Be inspired

You might find that it’s more about the mood, the ambiance, and the staging of your dreams that has you begging for more, so use them as a starting point for your lovemaking sessions. And if it really was the crazy wet suits or flying trapeze that got you off, figure out what else about the dream really made your head spin, and then use that to fuel your fire. And then add scuba sex and circus porn to your bucket list.

And if you can’t convince your partner to participate, relive your own pregnancy dreams again and again on your very own. While your favorite celebrity hottie may be otherwise indisposed, his battery-operated counterpart can be a worthy stand-in.

4 comments on this article

Mominatrix

Kristen Chase — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 00:00:00 EDT

Recently, the Mominatrix interviewed a celebrity, during which he commented that she was "too hot to be a mom."

At face value, the comment was pretty flattering. After having a few kids, heck, even just one, it doesn't take a celebrity offering some sort of flattering remark about one's appearance to make them quietly orgasm.

Those construction worker cat calls or "hey babys" have never been so welcome. You've probably even felt a little tingle when someone cards you.

But then you realize that if you're too hot to be a mom, then that means he, along with plenty of other people, don't think moms are very hot.

And sadly, he's probably not that far off.

Of course, the definition of "hot" is fairly subjective, and is often associated with skinny, gorgeous, unattainably beautiful celebrities, which many women, even those who are not moms, could never ever hold a candle to. But add in the physically and emotionally challenging act of having and/or raising a child and this level of "hotness" is some sort of urban myth that is saved for those who have the money to hire a complete staff and an on-call plastic surgeon.

But that doesn't mean that when you become a mom you have to completely let yourself go. Nor does it mean that you can never be "hot."

There's absolutely nowhere in any sort of parenting book that says you must lose your style, taste, and ability to use a hair dryer when you become a mother. Sure, you won't be walking out of the house wearing an evening gown and a full face of make-up, but who says you have to dress yourself in something that screams, "I've given up?"

It seems as though the instant that many women pop out their babies, they're instantly sucked into a capri-pant-and-ponytail-wearing vacuum. Or worse, they somehow rationalize the "cut it short because it's easier" hairdo.

They should castrate the hairstylists that willingly allow moms to do that to themselves.

Now you can continue to tell yourself that you feel "hot" in your scrappy mom duds and makeshift hairstyle. But if that's the case, why do you actually get done up for any type of "event" -- like a school meeting, a dinner out, a place where you might see other people you know?

If you really felt hot on a daily basis, then you wouldn't need to spend four hours trying to figure out what to wear for a simple coffee meet-up with friends.

And furthermore, this whole "I don't have enough time to even wash my hair" is a load of bullshit, save those early months when you're just trying to keep your baby fed and changed, and yourself clean and toileted. But otherwise, you spend your time making sure your teeny tiny baby -- who by the way does nothing else but eat, sleep, and poop and later talks and whines (if they're super advanced) -- is outfitted in matching clothes and booties.

And they can't even hold their own head up yet.

But you forgo the shower, the hair washing, even using the bathroom when you actually have to use it, and leave the house wearing clothes that you'd probably never have your kids caught dead in.

So forget the ridiculousness of how that sounds, because read that a few times -- it sounds insane.

But then think about what message that sends to your kids.

"Mommy's not worth it."

Considering all the mundane and complicated tasks you complete on a daily basis -- like, oh, the raising of the next generation of doctors, lawyers, even the President of the United States, then hell yes you are worth it.

You are worth spending more money than your children on clothing.

You are worth taking 5 minutes to put on some make-up before you leave the house.

You are worth finding 20 minutes to exercise and shave off some of those pounds.

Who said "hotness" required a ton of effort? The truth is, taking time for yourself doesn't take much effort at all. But it does take believing that you deserve those meager 30 minutes or so from your day. And really, you'll probably find that being a "hot mom" takes less time than anything else you were not doing to yourself before.

If moms continue to find excuses to sacrifice their own appearances and well-beings for the sake of everyone else around them except themselves, then they deserve to be stereotyped. Your kids don't ask you for all of your time. Nor do they require it. You're making the choice to sacrifice yourself and your hotness for the sake of your kids.

Here's hoping that the next time someone -- celebrity or not -- learns that he's surrounded by a bunch of moms, he'll say, "Well of course you are. Moms are hot."

6 comments on this article

The Parental is Political

Julie Marsh — Fri, 14 May 2010 00:00:00 EDT

One of the top reasons I enjoy writing about politics is that I look like a model citizen compared to a lot of politicians. We put them on pedestals (or rather, they install themselves there) and they wield a good deal of power, but plenty of them do and say ridiculous things -- from the president on down to city councilmen. Cigars, f-bombs, hookers, drugs, and bigotry -- our esteemed elected officials can behave just as poorly as the people they represent.

Of course, I also write about politics for the purpose of calling attention to issues, particularly those which parents ought to be concerned about. It's just a bonus when that pursuit happens to cross paths with whack-job politicians. This time it's Steve King, the Republican congressman from Iowa featured in a recent Gawker piece.

Gawker posits that King is at least eight times crazier than Republican congresswoman Michele Bachmann. Considering what comes out of her mouth, that's an impressive assertion. Gawker cites the frequency of certain words spoken by both King and Bachmann on the House floor, including "ACORN" and "socialist." King blows Bachmann right out of the water.

While both King and Bachmann are in the top 10 lawmakers who've used the word "sex" most frequently in session (36 times for King, 18 for Bachmann), it's King who's really got a bee in his bonnet over "the gays", as Rachel Maddow might say. King leads the pack in terms of times these words have been uttered on the Hill: "homosexuality" (16), "homosexual" (13), and "sin" (6, tied with Rep. Gohmert, R-TX). Furthermore, Rep. King is the only person in the past two years to have talked about NAMBLA -- four mentions, in fact -- in session.

Gawker didn't want to delve further into the reasons behind King's citation of the group, but I did. Unsurprisingly, King had tried last fall to link an Obama appointee to NAMBLA - an appointee to a position related to public schools, and who happened to be gay.

King spoke up again last week about those sneaky gays and how they might try to "entrap Christian businesses" by "coming in and interviewing one day in man’s clothes and come back the next day and apply for a job in woman’s clothes, and then setting up a lawsuit in a sting operation to harass our religious organizations."

Yeah. That's what the gays are all about. Undermining good Christians through the evils of cross-dressing.

His insistence that "if homosexuals want to avoid discrimination they should be more discreet about being homosexual" is right in line with the thinking behind "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," so it's clear where he stands on that policy repeal. But what I want to know is how he expects people to be more discreet about their sexuality? Should we remove our wedding rings? Clear our desks of family photos? Make no mention of our loved ones? King himself has referred to his wife while speaking from the floor of the House; isn't he technically flaunting his heterosexuality?

Iowa is actually one of twenty-one states that prohibit employment discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, a fact that probably keeps Steve King up at night. Personally, I'm hoping that his currently bigotry will keep him up at night in the future.

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Mominatrix

Kristen Chase — Fri, 07 May 2010 00:00:00 EDT

For years, women have complained about being superficially judged by men based on their breast size. Down with the sexist, chauvinist who declares his disinterest in itty-bitty titties.

Cue bra burning, hair pulling, and huge bills at plastic surgeons everywhere.

Yes, right, sorry. The boobs are totally for you and not your boob-obsessed spouse.

So perhaps small breasts are not a deal breaker for all men. Sweeping generalizations aside, certainly there are men that appreciate more about a woman than just her breasts. You know, like her taut vagina and Jennifer Lopez ass.

But seriously, call it genetics, the "hunter/gatherer" genotyping, or whatever other "scientific" term a bunch of men in bow ties and lab coats have come up with. Boobs may matter, but then men can close their eyes, put their penis in a warm, wet place, and go about their business, completely unaffected by the size of the breasts involved.

However, that's nothing compared to how men can be judged by women based on their penis size.

Now it's pretty clear that a dude came up with the "it's not the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean" saying because most women will say that size does matter. It is the friction and the accurate thwacking of the g-spot, after all, that wins the prize at the end. Of course, an inch or two in length or a centimeter or so in girth isn't going to make a huge difference in the long (or wide) scheme of things.

But there's just something incredibly erection killing, for a woman that is, when a man whips out his Johnson and instead you see a TWP (Teeny Weeny Peenie).

To be fair, there are some benefits to a TWP. For women who achieve more pleasure through oral sex and/or hand stimulation, dick size might not be a priority. And it's no coincidence that many TWPs, who are clearly lacking the thunder down under, are fantastic at cunnilingus.

If you're a finger-in-your-ass type girl, you could be easily converted to an anal-sex-type girl, which has a fabulous, sort of "porn star" ring to it. And depending on the size of the TWP, you could even upgrade to a finger-dick two-fer if you're feeling extra adventurous.

And given that the TWP could be likened to a straw, giving fellatio is far less exhausting, almost like enjoying a milkshake. With less calories and more protein.

But as for the actual sexual intercourse, there's just no motion that can make up for a lack in size. And no matter how hard you imagine that the TWP is actually a BFD (Big Fucking Dick), it's still there, swaying back and forth in your vagina, which now seems to be more like a grand foyer and less like an intimate tunnel of love.

You go to the OB/GYN to get your PAP swab. You don't need it in the bedroom.

Sadly, aside from the penis pump, there's really no silicone cure for the TWP. So the next time you feel judged by your small breasts or flat ass, just remember that at least they make water bras and butt shapers.

The only thing they make for TWPs are roofies.

2 comments on this article

Mominatrix

Kristen Chase — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 00:00:00 EDT

In a recent interview, inimitable Lady Gaga was quoted as saying she can give herself an orgasm without anything but her mind.

"I love sex. You know, sense memory is a powerful thing. I can give myself an orgasm just by thinking about it."

The idea that a woman can give herself mental self pleasure is not a new one, nor is it really that surprising since everyone always says the brain is really the sexiest organ.

That would also explain how women can find Owen Wilson and Adrian Brody sexy.

For most women, the brain is their on and off button, with the assistance of some sort of manual stimulation, of course, but still in charge of the power surge or blackout. Women tend to have more vivid memories than men and they know how to use them to their advantage.

Take, for instance, how you can accurately recall the number of times you've had to pick up your partner's underwear off the floor and change a dirty diaper during Sports Center. And consider how you survive the 400th dirty diaper change and same exact bedtime story ten nights in a row.

It's no surprise then, that the woman's mind contributes to enhancing their sexual experience. Whether it's remembering past flings or creating new fantasies, a woman's brain needs as much stimulation, if not more, than her actual visible body parts.

But the brain alone with absolutely no help from a friendly hand, tongue, or penis (real or rechargeable silicone) requires a lot of brain power, which is something moms don't have a lot of to spare.

What exactly does a 23-year-old childless pop star need to think about? Lord knows a 4-year-old could design Gaga's red carpet outfits, and her lyrics, while catchy, are not the renderings of a creative genius.

But for moms, between the breastfeeding -- for some anyway -- and lack of sleep, they're losing brain cells at a record pace.

Combine that with the schedules, eating habits, and other extremely important information they've got to pack in their heads, like remembering to put four extra binkies in the crib facing due south so your child won't wake up four times a night or ensuring that your children will actually eat dinner by serving it on the correct color-coded plates and silverware, at just the right temperature, so that it does not get thrown at your head.

So, with what brain cells you have left, you enjoy using them to do important things -- like "LOL-ing" on your friend's up-to-the-minute Facebook updates and choosing between Team Bethenny or Team Jill during the always compelling Real Housewives of New York.

However, the mental orgasm skill goes beyond the usefulness of self pleasure. While certainly an immediate and satisfying benefit, giving yourself an orgasm just by thinking about it is the perfect way to combat the asshats and douchebags moms encounter on a daily basis in a socially appropriate manner:

1. The Nosy Mother-in-Law

The next time your mother-in-law decides to give you unsolicited advice about how to parent your children, just take a bite of her son's "favorite mashed potatoes" and moan. And it won't be because of the light, whipped texture she's so famous for.

2. The Snooty Neighborhood Mom

When you're forced to endure an impromptu performance of your neighbor's 2-year-old playing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" on the violin, you can "ooh" and "aah" and really mean it. Just be sure to time them properly.

3. The School Car Pool Line Jerk

Instead of flipping off the annoying mom who always cuts you off, flash her a huge grin. That usually pisses people off even more anyway.

Now that you have practical applications for the mental orgasm, the only part left is mastering the skill, which really shouldn't be that hard. Just imagine a full night's sleep, a completely quiet meal, or your favorite hot celebrity waiting on your every beck and call.

See. That should have given you three right there.

5 comments on this article

The Parental is Political

Julie Marsh — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 00:00:00 EDT

There's a new Facebook fan page that's been gathering steam over the last week:

Dear Lord, this year you took my favorite actor, Patrick Swayzie. You took my favorite actress, Farah Fawcett. You took my favorite singer, Michael Jackson. I just wanted to let you know, my favorite president is Barack Obama. Amen.

Hilarious.

Never mind the fact that the charmer who started this page can't spell (Swayze and Farrah) and provides no other information about themselves than their city/state/ZIP (Marysville, Ohio - a rural town in an area that I know from experience isn't particularly worldly). Never mind the disclaimer that "we are not really praying for the death of obama [sic] it is just some humor to show our disapproval of our current president" and the obvious lack of basic knowledge of the English language. It's not funny, and it's not okay.

I don't care if you voted for him or not; he's the president. Alluding to a hope that the Lord takes him in the same way that he ostensibly took Swayze, Fawcett, and Jackson is disrespectful and despicable. This sentiment makes Rush Limbaugh's desire to see Obama fail look tame.

Way to go, Marysville. You upstaged Rush Limbaugh.

But wait. Before all the Obama supporters start fist-bumping each other, let me ask you this: What trash did you talk about George W. Bush?

Perhaps you never became a fan of a Facebook page that denigrated him, but did you dress your baby in a "President Poopyhead" onesie? Those were pretty popular in the last administration -- and also disrespectful and despicable.

No, displaying your feelings about the president on your kid's chest isn't the same as wishing him dead. Liberals are generally nicer people anyway, I'll admit. But even though I wasn't a fan of George W. Bush myself, thanks primarily to his utter lack of fiscal conservatism and his injection of religion into public policy, I accorded him the respect that our president deserves.

I served in the military during Bill Clinton's presidency, arguably my least favorite president. In retrospect, he was actually more fiscally conservative than his successor (Bush), but he was also a draft-dodging philanderer whom I felt I couldn't trust.

He was the president. As a member of the military, I ultimately reported to him. When I had the opportunity to take a tour of the West Wing courtesy of the Secret Service, I was thrilled. When I attended an event at Dover Air Force Base, I snapped pictures like a fangirl when he made the rounds, shaking hands. He was the leader of our country.

I understand that many people disagree fundamentally with President Obama, just as many others disagreed fundamentally with President Bush. My Libertarian views put me at odds with both of them in some regards.

But I don't think it's funny to joke about the death of our president or to revel in blatant disrespect of the man or the office, no matter what party he may be.

9 comments on this article

The Parental is Political

Julie Marsh — Sat, 03 Apr 2010 00:00:00 EDT

I'm not sure what to think about health care reform.

On the other hand, I am sure that -- if I made that statement in conversation -- most people I know would shout either, "How can you support it?!" or "How can you oppose it?!"

Because it seems like the only real majority here are the persons who have strong opinions about reform. Those of us who aren't sure what we think are a very small, very quiet minority.

I have a couple personal reasons why I see a need for changes, whether they're called for in the legislation or not. First, I have my own pre-existing condition -- postpartum depression. When we sought private health insurance a few years ago, it was the reason our premiums were higher than they otherwise would have been. I wasn't denied coverage, but the price I paid was affected even by a condition as seemingly minor as PPD.

But that's nothing compared to the health care expenses being borne by a friend of ours who was diagnosed with leukemia last fall. His first treatment, which was not covered by insurance, was $16,000. It was the first of many.

Those campaign commercials from 2008, featuring people who had to declare bankruptcy thanks to their medical bills? His family is living that nightmare.

I don't think that bad luck should ruin a personal financially. That's why we carry insurance. We carry homeowner's insurance so that if our house burns down, we can rebuild it. We carry car insurance so that if we have an accident, we can repair our car. We carry life insurance so that if we die while our children are still young, there will be money to meet their financial needs.

Sure, people can declare bankruptcy. But first, they have to pay as much as possible, which means liquidating investments. It's maddening to think that I'd have to raid my IRA -- money that I worked hard for and saved diligently -- to pay medical bills. And even then I could still end up declaring bankruptcy and demolishing my good credit score that I've also worked hard to attain and maintain.

I don't think that's right.

But I'm not certain that health care reform will prevent that from happening to me or anyone else.

If an insurance company is required to cover absolutely every procedure for absolutely every person who carries a policy with them, that will cost a lot of money. More people will be paying into the system, but the system will pay out more.

Good! say my friends who support reform. Insurance companies don't need to make more money!

But they're for-profit corporations. Doctors work for profit too, just like every other professional. There is nothing wrong with making money. It baffles me that people demonize those who profit from their ideas and hard work.

Following the sequence of events predicted by conservatives, insurance companies will go out of business due to reduced profit margins, and the government will take over administration of health care. Perhaps we'll have a combination of private and public hospitals and clinics. Perhaps some doctors will practice on retainer. Perhaps not. What's possible will depend on how the legislation is written.

Either way, health care will become another entitlement like Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid. These programs are already on shaky financial ground, and they comprise a significant chunk of federal spending each year. Adding to this mandatory spending means an even larger fiscal gap to overcome. Anyone who isn't daunted by the budget scenario we're facing - whether they support health care reform or not - hasn't done enough reading.

Both sides of the aisle make dire predictions: The Republicans' worst case scenario is a single payer system, and the Democrats' worst case scenario is what we've got right now.

I see both sides. What we've got right now can ruin individuals financially. What we might create could ruin the country financially.

And I'm still not sure what to think.

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Mominatrix

Kristen Chase — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 00:00:00 EDT

The irony of writing a sex column and sex book for parents is that there's a good chance it won't reach the moms who really need to read it. That's because according to a recent Harvard research study, of the 40% of women who identify having sex problems, only 12% actually seek help.

Now, thanks to the internet, getting help with sex problems -- particularly for moms who are already overextended and don't necessarily have the desire to hire a sitter so she and her spouse can sit in a sex therapist's office talking about why she's not interested in giving him a blow job -- has become much more accessible. And really, there's a good chance that on one of her Google searches, she'll find herself upon this sex column and perhaps get the answers she needs.

But let's face it. For the average person, the topics that the Mominatrix covers can be a little over the top, especially if crazy for you is having sex in the closet or with the lights on. And if she might be interested in finding a book to help her out, there's a good chance she won't be stumbling upon the The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex which warms the shelves of the "sexuality" section at most book stores, a place where most moms who need help with sex would never dare to enter.

And really, those of you whose ears (and other parts) perk up at the thought of a sex book for moms probably aren't the ones who need to buy it. Save the few chapters at the end, the bulk of the book is aimed at new and post-partum moms, and/or moms and their spouses who need help getting the spark relit in their relationship, not for those of you who are looking to plan a neighborhood orgy.

And as you might have guessed, you're in the minority. You sexy tweeters, bloggers, and sex-connoisseurs, with your porn collection and box of sex toys, who hopped right back into the sack after having a baby with your libido firmly beaten into submission with your whip that hardly had time to collect dust, you probably don't need advice on how to be a naughty mom.

Just sayin'.

But for most moms, whether it takes them a few months or a few years, figuring out how to marry their mom self with their former sexy self into some semblance of a human being that actually wants to pick sex over sleep is a challenge.

But what they don't realize, is that in most cases, solving sex problems can be as easy as strapping something on or lubing something up. In fact, according to clinical sexologist Dr. Richard Wagner, and recent Mominatrix podcast guest, most of his clients are seen for less than eight sessions. EIGHT. That's shorter than those mommy and baby music classes. And even more telling is that for the most part, the issues that arise between couples and the questions he receives are easily resolved with simple, uncomplicated tasks -- try phone sex experiments, watching porn, or reading erotic romance novels to each other.

It probably takes more time and effort to sleep train your kid than it would to solve most of the sex issues moms are having these days. But moms seem way more motivated to get their kids to sleep than they do to tend to their own sexual needs.

And probably for good reason.

But that doesn't mean sex needs to be at the bottom of the list, and really, if they're experiencing pain, discomfort, or let's face it, a lack of enjoyment, you shouldn't be surprised that folding sheets takes priority over a romp in them.

The resolution for all of this seems bleak. Clearly, chatting about sex problems isn't exactly comfortable playgroup fodder. It's much easier (and funnier) to complain about a sex-crazed husband than it is to talk about how he hasn't been able to get you to come in over two years. And it's way more socially acceptable to spend your time engulfed in your child's existence rather than shop for a sex toy that will get you off, even though if you're getting off, then you'll be happier with yourself, with your relationship, and with your kid.

The best way to start helping moms get laid is making them feel comfortable talking about it. There's no shame in sex, just in not having great sex.

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What's the Matter With Mommy?

Kelley Cunningham — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 00:00:00 EDT

1. Thou Shall Not Judge
Thou shall not make hasty judgments of other people’s kids’ transgressions, lest the Parenting Gods hear you and instantly smite you with a child who develops an obsessive fascination with eating his nose nuggets.

2. Keep Thy Perspective
Do you know any adults who are not potty-trained or do not know the difference between a circle and a square? It’s just preschool . . . pace thyself.

3. Remember Thy Adult Time, to Keep it Sacred
A good babysitter is worth kidnapping and chaining to the kitchen island.

4. Knowest When To Cry Uncle
When your toddler poops in the sandbox and the Goldfish crackers are gone, the play date is over.

5. Haveth Consideration for Others
If thine offspring throweth a tantrum in Panera while others are trying to Wi-Fi in peace, consider leaving immediately. But take the kid with you.

6. Getest Thou A Life
If you are losing sleep worrying about the guest list for your child’s third birthday party, or if you find yourself visiting more than one store for just the right socks for his Christmas card photo outfit, it might be time to join a book club or something. Anything.

7. Loseth the Guilt
It’s really okay if you don’t want to sit on the floor for hours with your preschooler playing blocks. Trust me on this.

8. Do Not Maketh Thy Children Hipsters
That vintage CBGB tee shirt may look cute on you, but it looks ridiculous as a onesie. Let thy babies be babies and not ironic statements.

9. Faceth the Facts
This may be tough to hear, but no one wants to hear the play-by-play drama of your labor and delivery. And when you show co-workers those pictures of your daughter in her tacky tap dance costume, they’re pretending they’re interested only to be polite.

10. Take Thyself Not So Seriously
Be not Mommier-than-thou. Without a sense of humor, motherhood will soon kicketh thy ass.

And one more:

11. If You Don’t Have Children, Keep Thy Advice to Thyself
Because frankly, my dear, you haven’t a clue.

1 comments on this article

The Parental is Political

Julie Marsh — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 00:00:00 EDT

There's no doubt (except perhaps among loyal listeners of Rush Limbaugh) that the Republican party is splintering. From the emergence of the Tea Party movement to the backlash against RINOs (Republicans In Name Only) to the political odd couple on the Republican presidential ticket in 2008, it's nearly impossible to figure out how today's GOP defines itself or what the party wants to accomplish, other than to defeat Democratic initiatives.

Reading a recent Newsweek article titled "What Republicans Really Want," I was hoping for some Nick Marshall-esque (Mel Gibson's character in "What Women Want") insight. Perhaps this piece would define the Republican party better than they've been defining themselves, and I might get a better idea why I was right to leave the party or why I might consider returning.

Unfortunately, I was sorely disappointed.

The article touched on six major points: Job creation, the budget deficit and national debt, health care reform, our role in the Middle East, handling of terror suspects, and education. Read closely and it's apparent that the two sides of the aisle aren't that far apart on most of these points. But as the Newsweek writers point out:

"In zero-sum Washington, members of the opposition party have little incentive to help the president, especially if it means the credit for their actions could accrue to him and not them. If politics is the art of compromise, then politics as practiced in the capital is the art of preventing compromise at all costs."

Sad, but true, no matter which party's in power. As close as the two sides may be on some issues, they push back against one another purely out of spite. Those Republicans who do attempt to build bridges are denigrated by fellow GOP pols, pundits, and party faithfuls.

But the primary reason I was disappointed in the article is that there's no mention whatsoever of social issues. No discussion of federal funding for stem cell research, or gay marriage, or Don't Ask/Don't Tell, or separation of church and state, or even the enduring issue of abortion.

These omissions, along with the right to bear arms, climate change, and immigration policy, were glaring ones. But because it's the increasing social conservatism of the Republican party that has driven me away, those were the differences I'd most hoped to see addressed in the piece.

Looking beyond my personal priorities as a voter, it's obvious that social policy has become a greater defining characteristic of the GOP than it was in the past. All of these issues were in the spotlight at one time or another under the previous administration or during the 2008 presidential election. Ignoring what Republicans really want in the social arena was a significant oversight on the part of Newsweek.

So I'll help them out:

Republicans want to legislate morality in accordance with their standards of right and wrong, which are primarily defined by religion, but which are also apparently suspended at will by those in positions of political power.

Conversely, Republicans believe that anyone who does not share their beliefs cannot ascertain the difference between right and wrong. Without the threat of eternal hellfire, they have no reason to behave morally.

Republicans believe in personal freedom, so long as an individual makes choices in accordance with the values espoused by the party. Choices that differ from those values should be illegal. Punishment for penitent party faithfuls will be meted out by a deity; all others will be punished here on earth. By Republicans, of course.

In short, what Republicans really want is to play God. It's no wonder this atheist is tired of their games.

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Growing Pains

Elizabeth Thompson — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 00:00:00 EST

According to the old saying, the month of March usually starts with cold, unpleasant weather, but ends mild and becomes much more agreeable – atmospherically speaking, of course.

“We don’t have ANY days off from school in March!”

Yes, it’s true, there are NO holidays requiring a day off from school in March (go ahead and check, I’ll wait) so, I’ve grown accustomed to referring to September through February as “the holey months” when large blocks of the school calendar are crossed-off for one holiday, birthday, or teacher’s conference, after another.

Aaaaand, considering the snow days we’ve had to take in February, no wonder the schools are bugging me about my kids, and the number of sick days they’ve already had, this year.

“Your child has been absent 4,291 times, this year…”

I’ve had kids in school, full-time, long enough to know that the state requires schools to send those annoying little, “just so you know,” letters; however, judging my recent conversation with one of the school nurses (Ratched, I believe) and a letter I received from my son’s school, I’m still a little fuzzy on identifying the difference between “excused” and “unexcused” absences.

“Please make an appointment, so that we can discuss ways in which we can improve your child’s absentee record.”

Off the top of my head, I can only think of one real good one – send my kids to school…sick.

“Mrs. Thompson, your daughter has 15 absences, already!”

My oldest (she’s 16) called me from the nurse office, the other day.

“None of which are excused.”

Turns out, my calling the attendance office and telling them that, you know, my kid won’t be in school, because she is sick, has cramps, or bleeding like a stuck pig, whatever, is not good enough.

“Excuse me?”

You see, I don’t typically play the “I’ve got 4 kids, you know?” card, but all I wanted was for her to give the kid a Tylenol.

“I’ve received, signed and returned dozens of forms, from all 4 schools, so I am well versed in student absenteeism policies.”

We’ve also received numerous handouts, outlining the signs and symptoms to look for, when deciding whether or not your child is sick or, not (especially, this year, with swine flu) along with weekly reminders NOT to send your kids to school, you know, sick.

“All I wanted was for you to give the kid a Tylenol!”

Because, I’m pretty sure I signed that paper, too.

“Just so you know, the high school only allows 20 absences…THAT’S IT!”

I wasn’t ready for a lecture and, it was at this point in our conversation, I was pretty sure that I needed a Tylenol, too.

“I have her file here in front of me and see that most of your daughter’s absences are unexcused.”

Okay, so this time, the school nurse was right and I didn’t send in a doctor’s note, every time, because I don’t take my kids to the doctor, every time they are sick!

“So, is she getting the Tylenol or not?”

Since, you know, I didn’t see any reason why we both should continue arguing, what was quickly becoming a mute point, while my poor kid was sitting there, in her office, doubled over, in pain.

“Yes.”

I know the school nurse was only doing her job and is probably accustomed to dealing with very unreasonable people, every day (sound familiar?) but, did she really need to make me feel like crap, too?

“As far as sending her home, you can do what you want, but she’s not throwing up and she doesn’t have a fever.”

I am no doctor. However, raising 4 kids (sorry) and having spent an unimaginable number of sleepless hours, wiping down feverish little faces and cleaning up buckets of puke (you’re welcome) not to mention, seeing my 14 year-old through surgery (twice) and assisting in her recovery from pilonidal disease (you’re welcome, I’m sure) I do believe that I have become somewhat of an expert at growing a thick(er) skin (seriously, that was just plain nasty) especially, when it comes to knowing whether my kids are sick, or not.

“Okay, but I told her to suck it up and that you, my dear, are an ass!”

[click]

This was NOT one of those days.

“Yay, we get our braces this month!”

My oldest girls have been waiting a really long time for this – since I made the appointment, way back in November, actually – and they are perhaps the only teens thrilled to FINALLY having braces put on their teeth and, well, YAY!

“Are we going to have to stay home from school?”

[checks calendar]

I’m sending in a letter, signed by the orthodontist, maybe even a notary, along with a picture of their crooked teeth, just in case.

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The Parental is Political

Julie Marsh — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 00:00:00 EST

When I registered as an Independent, I did so because I didn't want to be affiliated with the Republican party anymore, but neither did I want to be a Democrat. I differ significantly enough with each party's platform that I refused to let either one count me among their ranks.

I suppose I could have registered as a Libertarian -- their platform seems to mirror my views most closely -- but I'm hesitant to join forces with either Bob Barr or Ron Paul. On the other hand, a search for "Independent Party" returns a range of wildly varying results -- not unlike the variation between views of candidates who've run as Independents.

When the Tea Party movement sprang up, I identified with their opposition to the bailouts of Wall Street and the Big 3 automakers. I understood the reasons for the banking bailout, but I was angry about it nonetheless (especially after the reports of post-bailout bonuses and retreats). Dissatisfaction with the fiscal policies of both the previous administration and the current administration is one viewpoint I share with all varieties of Tea Party adherents.

But that's where my support of the Tea Party movement ends. The increasing social conservatism of the Republican Party appears to have translated to the Tea Party movement (and that's what drove me away from the GOP). Where the Tea Party stands on social issues is "murky," according to CBS News Political Hotsheet:

Some members of the movement, like the Tea Party Nation, believe social issues are a defining characteristic. Others, like the Tea Party Patriots, want to focus on economic and governance issues and not wade into the social policy debates.

Bottom line: If Tea Party adherents of either side support Governor Rick Perry and former Governor Sarah Palin, then count me out.

Now there's the Coffee Party. Called "an alternative for frustrated left-leaning voters," the Coffee Party is a fledgling movement that's already attracted attention from CNN and the New York Times. While they haven't published a platform, an excerpt from one of the notes on their Facebook fan page gives a clear picture of what they value in a political candidate:

We are looking for men and women who serve or wish to serve in government with these qualities: honesty, integrity, intelligence, truth-seeking, believes in democracy, loyal to constituents, a problem-solver, can work as part of a team, and productive. After we hire or rehire them in November, they must work hard to advance civil rights and fight like hell for working class and middle class interests.

He or she must support job creation, fiscal responsibility, health care reform, immigration reform, climate change legislation, & financial regulatory reform to protect consumers (and prevent another economic meltdown like the one we saw in 2008).

Republican or Democrat, coffee or tea -- it's clear that there's great unrest among voters. Grassroots, bottom-up efforts are lauded, but eventually leaders must emerge. The Tea Party movement has been weakened in the eyes of moderates and Independents by the attention it's attracted from GOP lawmakers and right-leaning media outlets. The Coffee Party has received similar criticisms already because its founder volunteered on the Obama campaign.

In spite of the enthusiasm behind them and the dissatisfaction that provoked them, I expect that neither the Tea Party nor the Coffee Party will evolve into a viable third party. But I do believe they serve a valuable purpose in spurring reform. From ThisNation.com:

One or both of the two major parties is bound to "steal" their issues, incorporate them into their platforms and absorb their supporters into their ranks�In American political history, third parties have served the important purpose of refocusing the two major political parties on issues they have ignored or dealt with ineffectively.

Fiscal responsibility figures prominently in the discussions led by both the Tea Party and the Coffee Party -- not surprising in light of the vast government spending (which, by the way, didn't begin with the current administration). Republicans and Democrats alike have been playing fast and loose with our money, even rich people's money, for too long.

While Sarah Palin's relationship with the Tea Party is enough to dissuade me from participating in that movement, I plan to attend a local Coffee Party meeting on March 13 - National Coffee Party Day - to learn more. To find a meeting near you, visit the Coffee Party website.

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Mominatrix

Kristen Chase — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 00:00:00 EST

Sex and music are intimately bound so it's no surprise that someone decided to connect them almost literally in what could be deemed "The Music Lover's Sex Toys" or as they're known in the sex business, OhMiBod. These super smart toys allow iPod (and iPhone) users to raise the pleasure ante with toys that vibrate to the pulse of your music.

And as a connoisseur of music and sex separately and together, I jumped at the chance to try out the new OhMiBod Freestyle, courtesy of Eden Fantasys.

Now if you're thinking that the OhMiBod is just another schticky gag toy, you're wrong. Aside from the pretty hefty price tag, once you take it for a spin, it's obvious that this toy is far removed from the cheap thrills that you might associate with these types of vibrators.

The toy itself comes in a pretty secure box, which is a nice plus for those of us with kids, but a little frustrating when you need to actually use it in a reasonable window of time. Once I was able to pry it open, I found a long silicone covered shaft featuring a simple twisting control and a point of entry for a charger, which, along with the connector, was included. The directions are pretty intuitive: Charge the vibrator, then connect your headphones and your iPod or iPhone (or any MP3 player or computer for that matter) to the connector box and voilà - your OhMiBod is called into action, vibrating to the beat of your favorite music. Talk about a sensory overload of the very good kind.

The concept and execution of the OhMiBod are brilliant, however when it comes to a product like this, personal preference plays a huge factor. Pretty much anything that vibrates will get you off, but those things don't cost upwards of $125. So, before you start loading up sexy songs on your iPod and untangling your headphones, here are some important considerations:

1. If you tend to like continuous vibrations and not a rhythmic pulse, then you might be a bit disappointed (well, unless you've got ridiculous loud music with a continuous bass). Although you can stick the vibe on manual mode, it seems silly to buy it if that's all you're going to use it for.

2. Make sure you have good sexy music that you've organized it in a playlist before you get started. The last thing you need is for some lullaby to come on right before you're about to climax. And if you tend to use music for other things in your life (like working out or passing the time while you're cleaning), then you might actually find using that same music during your sex sessions to be distracting. It is nice, however, to be able to block out ambient noise with the headphones. And if you're trying to sneak around because of sleeping children, you're probably not blasting your CD player during sex. Having it play right into your ears is a pleasant alternative.

3. Speaking of songs, you'll notice short but obvious pauses in between songs, which can be pretty inconvenient depending on where you are in your pleasure journey. If you're loving the idea of this so far, then do yourself a favor and download a few long songs or mixes so you can avoid the breaks in your music. The last thing you need is for the song to change right when you need it to keep going.

4. The long shaft vibrating portion is just that, and while the size is definitely manageable for beginners or advanced "students" and the length makes it ideal for clitoral, vaginal, and anal play, the shape itself leaves a bit (or more) to be desired, especially if you've had a kids or generally require something with a little more curvature.

That being said, the OhMiBod freestyle is far from a gimmicky sex toy. It's actually a pretty versatile toy that's obviously well-made and designed, and makes the perfect gift for the right person. If you're looking for something to just get the job done, I'd save your money and get something with a few less bells and whistles. But if you've got a music lover who needs a new instrument this Valentine's Day or you're just needing to add a little sweet music into your life, the OhMiBod will definitely not be a one-hit wonder. In fact, it might just take you to the top of the charts.

Rating: 3.5 stars

Deal alert! Save 15% on the OhMiBod Freestyle and all your other purchased at Eden Fantasys now through 02/15/2010 -- just enter the code MOMINATRIX at checkout.

Find out more about great Valentine's Day gifts on a special Mominatrix podcast.

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Rugrat Reprieve

Rachael Brownell — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 00:00:00 EST

It's not as though one day I put away the high heels, threw down the cute panties and bras and embraced the muu muus and late-night candy, but it feels that way. The time-warping devolution from slim pretty thing to puffy 40-something started with having kids (doesn't it always) and ended with getting sober and a nasty divorce (in progress). Not as an excuse, mind you, only by way of a righteous explanation to convince you I'm not one of "those women" who hates herself, puts herself last, and lets her kids win every bid for time and attention.

Except when I am.

Time and again I've strived to fit exercise and health between work and family, sex and bathroom cleaning, diapers and homework. And failed. I've watched my online sisters do Shredheads and group weight loss challenges, like a kid sitting by a window doing homework during recess. I failed before I started, convinced it wouldn't work, that there wasn't time and then capitulated to the onward thrust of days. 40 came and went, a job ended, my 2nd husband moved out. Another year.

Standing in the check out line one afternoon, reading horoscopes, debating the gum and M&Ms, I noticed"Oprah Magazine" and rolled my eyes at the lead story: "How to Get What you Really Want this Year." "Oh yah, right" I muttered as I placed the items on the conveyor... but then looked at the first subtitle: "A Healthier Body." Not slimmer, not tighter, not younger. Healthier. And something shifted. What if... What if... What if... in 2010 I could get healthy? What if I used this time, post-divorce, to tackle another Big Problem. I'd found a way out of alcoholism, out of an unhappy marriage, out of so many pickles these past few years. Why not attempt to conquer the intractable inertia over my body's lack of health? Why not?

The story begins with a young woman, divorced, unemployed, and overweight who documents her journey to health. For no other reason than I am sick of being tired and wrung out, I decided if she can do it, so can I. She chose Bikram Yoga, so I followed suit. I like the promise of "try this for 60 days and see the results." It's reminiscent enough of recovery (you get coins at 30, 60, and 90 days and other time increments) that I feel comfortable giving it a shot.

It turns out there are many reasons to fear Bikram Yoga (aka: "hot yoga"). 90 minutes in a room heated to 105 degrees Fahrenheit is only the beginning; 26 asanas, or poses, of increasing difficulty, one following the other so quickly there is barely time to panic; scantily clad very trim women and men; a huge full-wall mirror in the front of the room, into which one is encouraged to fix one's gaze on the (in my case) startling reality of 8 years without an exercise program. And this is just the beginning. My first class, I'm shocked at the state of my health. I can barely reach down to touch my toes, and the heat and exertion have me watching the clock after 15 minutes and praying for the class to end. Eventually it does. And I decide to suspend my disbelief long enough to do it again. And again.

It's been four weeks now, and as it happens, Bikram Yoga proves just enough sick torture chamber to keep me coming back. I can't go running, or walking, or do anything requiring proximity to home or children without the gravitational pull of guilt and chores sucking me back into its orbit. I can't buy a pilates CD, join Weight Watchers online, and discipline my flesh in the middle of my family room. I need to leave; exit my reality and enter another. A place where leaving early is frowned upon; where the encouragement is so constant the voices in one's head (the grocery lists, doubts about the divorce, mistakes recounted) aren't merely drowned out, they're decimated. I feel like all the demons of doubt and chubbiness are exorcised during class. I move mountains and beg childcare to get there. I sweat and cry and grunt. And I can't wait to go back again the next day.

I emerge on the other side of one of these classes, covered in sweat, reassured that my body can be brought back to the health and strength of the tomboy soccer player I once was. If I can do it, so can you. Come on! I double-dog dare you.

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Growing Pains

Elizabeth Thompson — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 00:00:00 EST

We live on a very busy street, used by commuters as a through-way between the train station and county road, so my husband Garth [not his real name] and I have always tried to remain vigilant about keeping the kids safely secluded in our very own big backyard.

“Can So-and-So come over?”

Did I mention, we’ve got a pool?

“No, it’s MY turn to have someone over!”

Riiiight.

“Mooooooom, there’s someone at the door!”

Of course, seeing as we’ve talked to each and every one of them, time and time again, about the danger of strangers, showing up at our door, all 4 of my kids came running from every direction to, you know, see who it was.

"It's our neighbor!"

Silence.

"Which one?"

We've lived in this house for almost 16 years and, sadly, I'm on speaking terms with only one of the families also living on our street -- my next door neighbor.

"It's the one you like!"

Oh, thank goodness.

"I got some of your mail, by mistake."

So, I invited her in, we spent the next few minutes catching up (has it really been THAT long) and parted on good terms.

"Maybe we can get-together; especially, if Mr. Screw Up keeps delivering each other's mail."

It's not that we don't like each other – I pretty much get along with most everybody, mostly – but, she’s only got the 1 kid and I’m pretty sure that she thinks I'm nucking futz, anyway.

But, she likes my kids… I think.

The neighbor on the other side of the fence (you know, the one I don't like) on the other hand, hates my kids and has yelled at them, for being too loud... playing outside… or, splashing around in our pool... on numerous occasions!

"Keep it down, over there!"

No, he doesn’t have any children (not that I know of, anyways) how’d you guess?

“Damn kids.”

Really? According to my other neighbor (you know, the one I like and sort of likes me) you wouldn’t even know that there are 4 kids, living in our 7 room house.

“Your kids are just way too polite.”

See?

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeighbor!”

Apparently, I’m raising a bunch of criminals – always saying hello to the neighbors and everything – who are constantly caught behaving badly, like:

The Boy (Turning 11, at the end of this month) Crime: Shooting hoops, playing fetch with the dog, laughing way too much and hollering stuff like, "Good mornin', Mr. Neighbor," and then, "Have a nice day," when ignored by Mr. Neighbor.

The Youngest (Age, 8) Crime: Playing on the swing set, working in the garden with her mother, digging for worms, pretends that fairies live in the woods behind our house and being too gosh-darned cute for her own good!

The Middle Girl (Age, 14) Crime: Riding her scooter to the milk store, swimming when it's hot outside, taking long walks with her camera, writes her own songs and reads way too many books!

The Oldest (Age 15 years-old) Crime: Watching old movies on Turner Classics and film noir. Doesn't like the outdoors, much. But, when she does venture out, is often found fussing over a project in her sketch book and generally enjoys the company of her siblings.

Then there’s, you know, their mother:

Me (Age, none of your business) Crime: Matriarch of This Full House. Skips showers, forgets to brush her teeth, goes in (and out) of her driveway at least a dozen times a day, picking her kids up from school, especially, on stormy days, leaves Christmas decorations up until Valentine's Day and (allegedly) breeder of some of the worst kids in the neighborhood!

“Hey, um, hi, how’s it going?”

[sound of crickets chirping]

Although, we may NOT be the most perfect family (or, best neighbors) I can't help but think that, just because we have lots of kids, running around and inviting lots of other kids to come over and play, or splash in our pool (during daylight hours, mind you) do we really deserve to be run out by the Neighborhood Homeowners' Association with torches and pitchforks?

[repeat, sound of crickets chirping]

Riiiight.

So, this year, I’ve decided to be the bigger neighbor (figuratively speaking, of course) by being the first one to say:

“Hey you kids…get off of my lawn!!!”

Even though, you know, they never seem to listen to me, either.

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