If you’ve got at least one little mini-me running around after you, it’s fairly obvious that you’re getting some. I liken it to wearing your heart on your sleeve; a pregnant belly practically screams sex. Everybody knows you’re doing it (or at least that you did it one really effective time) and yet nobody really likes to talk about it.
Most of us have had passing thoughts of our friends, relatives, and yes, even our parents doing the nasty. Some of them are much more enjoyable than others, but nonetheless, we’ve thought about them. And yet, many of us cover ourselves up, swat the grabby hands of our spouses, and leave our sexuality at the hospital all under the guise of being good mothers or good parents. But isn’t that, at some level, what leads us to sex obsessions, porn addictions, and really bad constipation? We’re all so worried about being seen as sexual beings when really that’s how we got to where we are in the first place.
Why is sex so incredibly taboo for parents?
A recent incident that involved my father-in-law walking in on my husband and I having sex has forced me to think about sex and parenthood. If you put aside the total disregard for our privacy that included just barging into our bedroom and the sheer level of embarrassment at being seen in a somewhat compromising position by a relative, all you really have is sex between two consenting adults who have quite obviously and effectively had sex at least twice in the least three years. And after you stop throwing up in your mouth every time you think about how bright your naked ass must have been shining when he walked in, I’d like to think we should be celebrating the amazing achievement that with two kids running us ragged and keeping us up night after sleepless night, we’re still actually having sex and not swatting at each other with baseball bats? And really, what better an outlet to vent all our frustrations with our often times mundane existence. Just because I spend my days wiping butts, cutting off crusts, and resentfully dressing and redressing Barbie doesn’t mean my nights have to be the same.
The line is most certainly fine between a married couple enjoying private hot sex in their own home and folks who get off on making sure other people see exactly what they’re doing. The public Central Park sex is not really my cup of tea, nor do I really want to be strolling through the zoo one day to see naked asses (of the human kind) bouncing around on a bench. But just because I don’t actually see parents having sex doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate and understand the fact that they are real live people who enjoy doing it
So I can’t help but be confused at the junior high reactions we have when hearing that our friend with four kids likes porno, that her husband has a stash of sex mags, or god forbid, that the dildo is enjoyed by both of them. If you’ve been having sex with the same person for any amount of time, it’s likely that the same three positions (or one for some of you) get pretty damn old. Who said that the minute you pop out a kid you’re relegated to missionary position, doggy style on special occasions, and never mentioning the fact that you’re actually doing it other than what is evidenced by those little
rugrats sucking you dry?
The truth is, parents are having sex, and if they’re not, they should. There’s really nothing like a good screw to remind you what it’s like to be human again. And since the job of “parent” seems to hold as much status as a pack mule these days, I’m game for whatever reminds me exactly what that space between my two legs is good for.
I think it’s time to let the Mominatrix in all of you out to play. You might have successfully kept her under wraps beneath the stretch marks and stomach pooch. But while she might not wear black leather and sport a whip, I bet she wouldn’t mind a break from that old ratty bra and yoga pants.
