FEELING FRISKY ?

     I remember being a new bride and the excitement of the discovery. From what he like to eat to how he wanted his feet rubbed, each new thing was a stimulating adventure but the most fun came at night when the lights went out. 

  We were the typical young couple. Full of energy, excitement, curiosity and adventure. We were willing to try most anything that didn’t require 911 intervention or large amount of chocolate.  some things must remain sacred! We laughed, explored and laughed some more, and like most newly wed couples it took just the wind blowing to get our motors going. Rabbits had nothing on us!

Being apart was torture. Even just a trip to the grocery store seemed like an eternity and lord knows the produce section  just served as a reminder of what we could be doing instead of looking for the best price on canned goods. Usually by the time we got to the last aisle we were just tossing crap in the basket so we could get home. I can’t tell you how many times I unloaded the bags to find things like cat food we didn’t own a cat, diabetic cookies neither of us are diabetic and some strange bread that looked like it came pre-molded.

As a new bride, I wanted to impress so every morning I would rise at least an hour before him so I could shower, do my hair and put on make-up. Then I would crawl back in the bed, arrange my night-gown in what I hoped was a “sexy, come to me” arrangement, lay my head gently on the pillow so as not to mess my hair,  and wait. 

It usually didn’t take him long to stir and roll over where he would find me with my eyes closed, breathing softly in short little panting breaths i saw that on a television movie once with just the hint of a smile on my face and of course he would understand the meaning without one word from me. It was a great way to start the day and I didn’t have to do any dishes afterwards.

    Now as all good things must come to an end or at least slow down, so did our new passion. As we settled in to marriage and realize that the other guy really wasn’t going anywhere we began to get comfortable. I still did my morning routine but the sexy little night-gown had become a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt. He didn’t seem to mind much, just as I didn’t mind if he didn’t wake up in 30 seconds, it just meant I got a few more hours of sleep before I had to make coffee and send him out the door.

    I no longer spent my days running to the front window to check if he was home early whenever I heard a car door slam and our grocery bills started shrinking thanks to less can’s of cat food. We still had a fun, but just not as often. We were settling into a routine of maybe twice a day and we could both live with that happily.

   Then came the kids and over night it seemed as if “our time” became “their time” and they didn’t want to share. After dinner, baths, stories, drinks of water, chasing monsters from under the bed and tucking them in at least a dozen times, we would wander into our bedroom to find mountains of laundry waiting to be folded on the bed, the dog snoring loudly on the pillows and assorted toys taking up floor space. Instead of sharing a shower now, one of us would stand guard to make sure the little darlings didn’t just pop in to see what was going on. By the time we were done and had convinced the dog that it was not her bed, we would crawl in, stretch out, toss the Barbie dolls who were “camping out” from under the pillows on to the floor and wonder what the hell happen? If we were feeling frisky it meant we had to wait until at least 2 am to be sure they were all asleep. We had encountered that odd feeling of being “watched” on several occasions to find a pair of eye balls peeking just over the edge of the bed at us in the dark. There is nothing like opening your eyes to find a child who looks like a “glazed donut” watching you, to kill the mood.

   We kept assuring each other it would get better as they got bigger but what we didn’t realize was that as they got older they also got smarter. Telling them we were “wrestling” didn’t work as well anymore and that meant that our love life had to take on a new dimension now….SILENCE! That unfortunately was hard to accomplish when you have a bed that sounds like a troop of midgets on a rusted trampoline. We had tried the floor but soon found that while the mind was willing the bodies launched a protest that left us feeling like we had gone nine rounds with Ali and lost! We even tried the shower thinking the running water would cover the noise but soon learned that was just a signal to the kids to flush the toilet at least a dozen times in 3 minutes. Do i really have to explain the bursts of cold water? I now understand why they tell you to turn the hose on the dogs.  We just accepted our fate and after a quick kiss good night each rolled over and drifted off to sleep.

     Come morning, I was lucky to get my feet on the floor before I had one or more of the kids demanding cereal so when he woke up instead of finding me looking enticing, he often found me with coffee in one hand, my mascara from 3 days ago smudged under my eyes like a foot ball player ready to take the field and wearing a “sexy” pair of torn sweat pants and matching sweat shirt. Yeah baby that’s enticing! Our twice a day had become once a month if we were lucky.

   And now we have reached that age when our kids are all grown, a few are married with families of their own and the hubby and I are looking at once again having the house to ourselves. As we sat the other night talking about how nice that would be  the conversation took its natural turn when he said…”and what about the sex…we are gonna be able to do anytime we want again”. I sat back and caught my reflection in the mirror. Gone was the supple young bride able to balance on one foot while holding a feather duster and a can of whipped cream, wearing a slinky little number. In her place was now a grandmother who was luck if she could lift her leg high enough to tie her shoe. The only feather duster action taking place was to clean off the furniture and as for the whipped cream…a squirt or two in the morning java suited me just fine. Gone was the “slinky little number” it had been replaced by a lovely flower print tent, designed by Omar the Tent maker. The only make-up was some anti-wrinkle cream that wasn’t working and what hair I had left was piled up on top with a few bobby pins to hold it in place. I gazed at the woman for a moment and thought to myself….Maybe with enough chocolate and no lights, if we can both stay awake long enough, it might be possible…oh who am I kidding….just turn on Wheel of Fortune and lets call it a night! There is always next year dear.

 

Copyright 2010 Theresa Allen