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Sex, Drugs and The Wet Spot

My husband has been working out of town for a year now. It wasn’t an easy transition for a woman who just lost her son four months prior and had never been a single parent. There were many days when I wondered if our family would survive Boo’s absences.

I discovered my kids are very resilient and absence really does make the heart grow fonder. I really do love my husband. I didn’t just stay married to him all those years because it was easy and he was cute. Who knew?

A year later, we have found our family groove. We function fairly cohesively when the daddy dude is gone, (providing I remember to order water and um, heat…) and when the hubs makes his mighty return, after a bump or two, it’s like he never left.

He’s been gone for three weeks and he will be gone again tomorrow night, trading in family and comfort for what ever hot little Asian chick he can find. (Not to mention, trolling on-line for some coffee buddies.) Family bonding is priority number one right now. The kids stay up past their bedtimes, cuddling on the couch with the dad, while watching inappropriate movies and I drink my mommy juice, enjoying the time I have as not being the sole person responsible for child safety.

I’ve also been enjoying something else. Since it’s been a while since we’ve laid eyes on each other and we don’t know when we will see each other again, the hubs and I have been busy doing what married couples do. As often as possible.

Fornicating.

We try to be quiet about it. We try to make sure the kids are either outside or sleeping. But when you only have 48 hours, beggars aren’t going to be choosers around these parts. In other words, we tell the kids we are taking a nap. And please don’t disturb us.

We’re very old. We need our sleep.

Wink, wink.

There was a small bump in the road with that plan last night. My son, Frac, is very sick with strep throat. And as the little man he is, he’s a bit of a whiny wimp about it, constantly complaining about how sore his throat is, and how yucky he feels.

Because I am a loving mother, I decided to ease my son’s suffering and get a couple hours of not having to listen to him complain. I tried to knock him out by giving him some over the counter cold medication that would normally knock me out and make me sleep. It didn’t work like that for my son. What it did do was stone him out of his tree. (Which, I suppose, did achieve the purpose of shutting him up, because while he never slept, he wasn’t whining.)

The hubs and I, thinking that our children were fast asleep, got naked. All was right with the world (read: Mommy got hers) and we were enjoying ourselves (read: Daddy was having his turn) when in wandered our son.

Who, thankfully, wasn’t wearing his glasses (he’s blind as a bat without them) and was higher than a kite in a wind storm. Since I was a little busy at that particular moment, I didn’t notice the boy standing three feet behind us. However, my husband did.

Suddenly, I hear my husband ask my son what he is doing. WTF? I think and I freeze. And panic. AS ANY GOOD PARENT WOULD DO.

Not my hubs though. He just slowed down a bit and kept talking to my kid. Like he wasn’t going to town on the poor kid’s mother, like the poor kid wasn’t confused, like his wife wouldn’t mind having sex in front of her child.

Well, his wife DID mind, and I artfully um, disengaged in said activity and asked my stoned son what was the matter. Frac didn’t know. At this point, he didn’t know much of anything, including where he was. As I walked him back to his room, he only bumped into three walls. (Thank GAWD! It only proved he couldn’t see anything or ANY PARENT HAVING SEX in the dark.)

Upon my return, I noticed a sour look on my husband’s face. I asked him what was the matter. Apparently, he was only a few strokes short of his goal and he was feeling a tad frustrated.

Poor baby. After a few minutes of fruitless whining and begging for me to return to said activity, he rolled over, muttered under his breath about something about having kids with bad timing and then promptly started snoring.

Me, I was still a little disconcerted about what had just happened. Did I just scar my boy for life? Did he see me naked? Did he notice my jiggly bits? How much money in therapy bills would this cost to fix? What if mentions this to THE ADOPTION CASE WORKER WHO IS COMING TO INTERVIEW US TOMORROW???

Lucky for me, all of my worries flew out of my mind rather quickly. That tends to happen when I roll over and discover that I have to sleep in the wet spot.


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I must be slipping. Usually I can choreograph the action so that I avoid all wet spot irritations. As I went to grab a towel, I swear I heard my husband snickering softly.

Laugh all you want Boo.

At least I got my cake.

***Turns out, my snotty-nosed, froggy throated child remembers nothing of his parents sporting activities the night before. The hubs and I grilled him first thing this morning. I like to think of it as my Easter miracle.***

This post is posted in Carnal Knowledge, Romantic Comedy on Monday, 9 April, 2007 at 8:28 am. Keep up with this conversation via RSS or Both comments and trackbacks are currently closed.

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