The Naughty Mommy

Parent Author Night

2007-11-05T07:28:00.000-08:00

The P-I and Parent Map are hosting a Parent Author Night at Queen Anne Books on Thursday, Nov. 8th. Should be fun -- we'll be talking about maintaining sanity, sex and self while parenting. I'll be there, along with authors Christie Mellor (The Three Martini Playdate) and Faith Conlon and Gail Hudson (I Wanna Be Sedated: 30 Writers on Parenting Teenagers).

Hope to see you there!

Parenting Like an Adult
FREE
Nov. 8th 6:30 - 8pm
Queen Anne Books
1811 Queen Anne Ave. N
Seattle

Naughty News!

2007-09-01T13:52:00.000-07:00

Well, the inevitable has happened: after several good years of rediscovered naughtiness, we have a beautiful new baby to show for it! Little Mercy Jean arrived August 2, screaming mad and ready to wreak havoc on our sex life. The boobies are once again on demand and off limits. We shall see if my naughty mommy strategies hold up with number 2. I'll keep you all posted after the infamous six week check up....

Tired and happy cheers,
T.N.M.

Bad blogger!

2007-07-02T13:10:00.000-07:00

I am such a bad blogger! Bad Naughty Mommy! However, I do now have the excuse of being hugely pregnant. Please forgive me and I promise I will do my best to update more in the coming months.

Cheers,
The Naughty Mommy

Another Naughty New Year

2007-02-04T14:59:00.000-08:00

Another New Year!

It's been a year since my book came out, and despite a mostly gentle, ongoing anxiety about the long-term health of book sales, I'm happy to be in a much quieter publicity place than I was last year at this time. Alas, I have not (yet?) landed a gig on Oprah, but I'm happy with my other resolutions. Fingernails? Always growing. Fighting Fear? On it. In fact, my fear of public speaking is almost completely gone, thanks to dying my way through several very public appearances. And while I wouldn't say my inner critic has been tamed altogether, she has toned it down.

As for enjoying my mostly here, sometimes still-on-the-lam, quality-is-so-much-more-important-than-quantity libido, we can safely cross that one off the list. In fact, I was so good in the naughty department that this New Year my resolutions are: Keep down cracker, Get out of bed, Limit smell-based gagging. That's right, folks, I'm in the early germination stage of another big project -- baby making. And since this is not something I believe I'm particularly good at (here's why) it's putting all last year's resolutions to the test: Fear and self-doubt are at a premium, while nails and libido are significantly lower than desired. Yet here I am, somehow, doing it. Just like I kept writing on those days when I thought I had nothing to say, like doing the Today show with the stomach flu, like staying present and in charge with my five-year-old when she's moody and bratty and compulsively non-compliant. Because some resolutions you don't make. Some resolutions you just find yourself doing -- even when you never thought you could -- and realize instead that they're the ones that make you.

Plan A for this entry was a sexy list riffing on cheesy magazine resolutions (They resolve: Spice things up with sexy new lingerie. I resolve: Return to wearing underwear -- aka: do the laundry.) But fancy resolutions don't need any more tinsel. They're there, year after year whether we stick to them or not, big life markers in the sky, stepping stones to feeling like we're in control of ourselves and our lives. But really it's those under-the-radar, second-guessed, overlooked, underrated, slightly unwilling resolutions we make each and every day that should get their time up in lights. They're not always naughty, or glamorous, or titillating. But those humble actions we take each day, despite doubt and discomfort, are the ones that should be celebrated with champagne, fireworks and midnight making-out. Those small unsexy moments of my life and yours are the ones I shakily raise my celebratory glass of ginger ale to. Ultimately, those small moments make up the big picture, giving us a chance every day to start over and become better versions of ourselves.

Hanky Panky and Hokey Pokey

2007-02-04T14:57:00.000-08:00

Dear Naughty Mommy,
I'm glad you found your libido again after one kid. But wait 'til you have your second one! 'The few stray bits of energy you used to have left over after taking care of spouse and baby get sucked up (literally!) by the second child, and there's no YOU left any more. Do you think your strategies would hold up after kid #2? (P.S. It's taken almost 10 years after my kid #2 to regain my naughtiness, and now my first kid's aware enough to know when hanky panky is in the air, so circumspection's always in order!)

Signed,
Sneaking Around in Sarasota

It's true: I have only one child, an even-tempered, over-sleeping and sleep-overing five-year-old. In fact, with my child in school at last, I could almost write about this past year as a kind of erotica. I am once again intimately familiar with my pillow; the anticipation of eight real hours of sleep melts muscles still tight from those early years of hunching and nursing. My body smells like me again, a reminder of the freedom Kindergarten has brought; freedom that leaves me dewy and warm, a lubricant not just for my body, but for my brain too. My poor out-teletubbied, out hokey-pokeyed baby mush brain is luxuriating in the afterglow of a five year push. I remember things. I have meaningful conversations. I think sexy thoughts. And I won't lie -- it's nice. Really nice.

And yet, here I am thinking about doing it all again. Not because I feel like something is missing from our family (it's not), or because I worry about raising an only child (debunked), or because I feel like I'm somehow cheating with "just one" (I'm just as much a mom as Ms. Minivan). I don't want a baby so I can give my daughter "the ultimate gift," make the next Mother Teresa, or fix the broken parts of my own childhood. I don't want one because people say I should, or because I love being pregnant (hardly!), or just in case I might regret not having another one down the road. I really have no clear reason for wanting to get all storked up again, for throwing myself back into that life and relationship maelstrom of early infancy. I just do.

As hard as that time was on my body and my mind (and my sex life!), it was also the happiest. Never have I felt more clear or satisfied. Maybe I've got selective amnesia, or my hormones are all fired up. Or maybe I'm just a born breeder, plain and simple. But reason or not, lately all I can think about is that maybe the Hokey Pokey really is what it's all about.

I've thought a lot about what another baby might do to my recent sexual renaissance, and my easily lost libido. Certainly my husband would be sad to lose his breast privileges again. But at least now we know how to talk about it. We know what to expect, and we know a good sex life with a baby is something we have to work at and not take for granted. Maybe that's why in one recent study, new parents with at least one older child reported making love more often in the months after delivery than first-timers -- they know all too well what can happen, they know to take advantage of naptime and Baby Mozart, and they master the quickie.

But I also know now what personal pitfalls to watch out for. I know I get caught up into giving too much to others, I know I need regular exercise, I know I've got a funky thyroid. I know I tend to throw myself into motherhood as an excuse for not looking at my own life sometimes. I know I fall in love with babies, hard. But conveniently, my husband knows that now, too. His ego is not as vulnerable as it was in those early days with our daughter. He knows he's my real number one, even when I am in the harpy-like throes of intimacy overload. He knows that eventually the baby who has displaced him will wean, and sleep and one day even walk away from us. He also knows that intimacy junkie that I am, I will turn once again to him to get it.
As for older kids knowing hanky panky is in the air, I say -- good! Get a good lock and set some ground rules about knocking and privacy. Take advantage of Saturday morning cartoons and say you're sleeping in together. Head for the shower and tell them you're saving water by showering together. Certainly they don't need to know the details of what's going on, but it's fine for them to know that mom and dad need special time too. They won't know whether you're doing hanky panky or hokey pokey in there; but they will know that you're doing it together.

And that's what it's all about.

Loosey Goosey

2007-02-04T14:54:00.000-08:00

Dear Naughty Mommy,
What are your thoughts on plastic surgery for vaginas? I'm so stretched out from childbirth I worry that my husband doesn't feel anything at all. I feel like a freak. I'm getting a C-section next time!

Signed,
Loosey Goosey in L.A.

What a house of horrors pregnancy and childbirth can turn our bodies into. Personally, throughout my pregnancy I felt less like a goddess and more like the Green Goddess salad dressing at my favorite dive restaurant: runny, soggy and overused. Spooky! Unfortunately, I can attest to the fact that C-sections are not souvenir-free either; they leave plenty of sagging scaries. I can do sit-ups 'til sun-up every day and my abs will still hang low and wobble to and fro -- thanks to the scalpel and muscle separation from my pregnancy.
Let's keep in mind that vaginas were meant to stretch. That's what they do. The real culprit of your "too looseness" is the tone of your pelvic floor muscles. While most women find that things get more or less back to normal three to six months after birth, some of us might have more damage, depending on the size of our babies, the number of births, and of course, whether we've done our Kegels. (Yes, I know, it's as tedious as flossing, but like flossing, has a real payoff). Recent research also hints that the long term tone of your pelvic floor muscles may ultimately have more to do with your heredity than vaginal birthing. Given that, as well as the very not romantic longer recovery period, the soreness, the possibility of developing internal scar tissue and ongoing pelvic pain, I'd hold off on that C-section if a quick return to sexual satisfaction is your real concern.

As for the other surgery you're talking about, often called vaginal rejuvenation surgery, let me remind you right up front that I am not a medical expert. Although my husband and I might like to play doctor now and again, my advice here is limited to my opinion; namely, the whole thing creeps me out. These procedures used to be reserved for serious problems like congenital malformations, incontinence or serious injuries related to childbirth. Now, they're something women can do in an outpatient clinic if they have enough money and don't feel their precious bits are up to standard for one reason or another. Frankly, it smacks a little of the old days of doctors throwing in an "extra stitch" for the husband's pleasure. And that's what it's all about isn't it? Other people's pleasure. Just like the horrific new show The Hottest Mom in America isn't at all about mothers' real sexuality or sexual empowerment, but how hot we look to other people, how we turn other people's heads, how we're there for other people's pleasure. It's another wrinkle in the perfect, rather than real, mother phenomena; perfect mothers bear children with no scars or physical changes, perfect mothers look youthful and energized, perfect mothers don't age, get wrinkled or wear ugly sweatpants because they're too fucking tired to get dressed. Perfect mothers have tight perky vaginas to give their husbands maximum pleasure -- never mind that for most of us the clitoris is where our pleasure is really at. (And never mind that The Hottest Mom in America is brought to you by Medicis Pharmaceutical Corporation, the makers of the "dermal filler," Restalyn.)

I'm all for women doing what they need to do to feel good about themselves in and out of bed. If a loose vagina is bothering you -- for you -- then by all means let's fix that. Talk to your medical caregiver about tools (or toys!) that can help you do your Kegels more efficiently, or ask if she can refer you to a physiotherapist. Check out the book Essential Exercises for the Childbearing Year: A Guide to Health and Comfort Before and After Your Baby Is Born, by Elizabeth Noble, or have fun enjoying the pelvic floor muscle workout video Sweet Moves. In the meantime, make sex more enjoyable as is -- try using a small vibrator inside you at the same time your partner is, or use your hands to add pressure and sensation.

If you've tried everything else and your doctor recommends it, surgery may indeed be the right choice. But it should be the last choice, not the quick fix first one, and not one because you're uptight about your imperfections or afraid you feel like Frankengina. Maybe we're supposed to be a little looser after childbirth. Maybe it allows us to stretch and get deeper into things with our partner, deeper into our appreciation of our bodies and deeper into embracing our imperfections. Because as freaky as it is to feel like things aren't the way they were before motherhood, more freaky is the idea that it doesn't change us at all.

The Libido Low-Down

2007-02-04T14:52:00.000-08:00

Dear Naughty Mommy,

I miss my libido. I have forgotten how it was before we got married and before we were parents. I miss that feeling and I don't know what happened. I only hope that I can get It back! But where do I start?

Signed, Lost Little Libido in Lubbock

We all come to the libido-after-baby party from different places. Some of us had lots of sex and desire pre-baby and some of us had less. But whether you were banging like bunnies or a little more laissez faire about your liaisons, chances are that after kids things will change in one way or another. This isn't always a problem -- the key to conjugal happiness seems not to be how fired up your libido is, but how well it matches your partner's and how you deal with it when it doesn't.

There's no one reason mothers lose a once strong libido - there are lots: some physical, some mental, and sometimes it's that you married a clod. To get your very own libido lowdown and a few ideas for picking it back up I've created the following quiz. Is it foolproof? No. Am I a trained doctor or therapist? No. Should this take the place of real professional help? Of course not. But you just might find a little something about yourself or your partner that you didn't know before.

Part I: Lemme Hear Your Body Talk

1.) My usual energy level is:
a.) like the Energizer Bunny
b.) pretty average
c.) a little below average
d.) like Jabba the Hutt

2.) When it comes to shut-eye, I sleep:
a.) like a rock
b.) like a baby -- 5 to 6 hours or more at a time
c.) like my baby -- 3 to 4 hours at a time
d.) sleep? What's that?

3.) I exercise:
a.) almost every day
b.) several times a week
c.) maybe once or twice a week
d.) in my exhausted, delirious dreams

4.) Before kids, I thought about or had:
a.) lots of sex!
b.) sex
c.) a little sex
d.) not very much

5.) My hormones are:
a.) my friends
b.) okay
c.) troublesome
d.) a bitch

6.) When we do get together, sex with my partner:
a.) is body and mind blowing
b.) is good
c.) is okay
d.) blows

For every A give yourself 4 points
For every B give yourself 3
For every C give yourself 2
For every D give yourself 1

Your Body Talk Score:
If you scored 18 - 24 your body talk score is HIGHER

If you scored 13 - 17 your body talk score is MODERATE

If you scored 6 - 12 your body talk score is LOWER

Part II: Brain Baggage

1.) When it comes to sharing, I feel like I can tell my partner:
a.) anything
b.) most things
c.) some things
d.) nothing

2.) When I look in the mirror, I say to myself:
a.) Boo-Ya, baby!
b.) Ya.
c.) Mostly boo.
d.) BOO HOO!

3.) For us, birth control is:
a.) not an issue
b.) usually not an issue
c.) an issue
d.) a total killjoy

4.) When I touch myself, it feels:
a.) awesome
b.) good.
c.) awkward
d.) I don't

5.) Around the house, I get:
a.) lots of help
b.) some help
c.) occasional help
d.) treated like Cinderella

6.) My mood is usually:
1.) happy happy joy joy
2.) pretty good
3.) up and down
4.) down and downer

Score: For every A give yourself 4 points
For every B give yourself 3
For every C give yourself 2
For every D give yourself 1

If you scored 18 - 24 your body talk score is HIGHER
If you scored 13 - 17 your body talk score is MODERATE
If you scored 6 - 12 your body talk score is LOWER

Key:

If your brain and body are in perfect sexual harmony, congratulations! You can stop reading now. But if your nooky train is at a stand-still, start with a physical check-up to rule out wacky hormones or other health problems. Line up some super sleep time, get regular exercise and work on eating something besides left-over kid food. Then weigh your emotional baggage. Clear the path to naughtiness with a good talk sesh. Open up to your partner, a friend, or therapist about what's going on for you and how you to let it go.

HIGHER Body Talk and LOWER Brain Baggage
Woo-hoo! Your body is saying yeah baby, and your mind is too. Your greatest task is probably just finding time. Look for the quickie in each moment, and recruit friends and family to take the kids out so you can stay in and have some fun.

HIGHER Body Talk and HIGHER Brain Baggage
Your body may say yay, but your mind is saying nay! Keep taking care of yourself physically, but now you need to pay special attention to your heart and mind. What really gives?

HIGHER Body Talk and MODERATE Brain Baggage
Lookin' good! Just work out some of those emotional kinks and you'll be on your way to kinky again.

MODERATE Body Talk and LOWER Brain Baggage
Lookin' good! Your brain appears to be on board but your body is not quite ready to back you up. You don't have to choose sleep over sex, you just have to figure out how to get enough of both!

MODERATE Body Talk and HIGHER Brain Baggage
Physically you may be dragging your heels a bit, but mentally you're headed for a screeching halt! While it might be good to see a doctor to pin down any physical problems, you most likely would benefit more from a head check. Are you burnt out? Feeling under-supported? Hung up on sexuality for some reason?

MODERATE Body Talk and MODERATE Brain Baggage
Don't you just love being moderate? So safe and simple, right in the middle. Just "fine." But it's a slippery slope from "just fine" to "so-so" to "kinda sucky." Work on passion in both body and mind and see how your libido lights up.

LOWER Body Talk and LOWER Brain Baggage
The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak as my knees when I'm deep in a good Johnny Depp fantasy. You body is a temple and yours needs a most honorable check in -- let your doctor rule out any real problems and remember, you don't have to choose sleep over sex, you just have to figure out how to get enough of both!

LOWER Body Talk and MODERATE Brain Baggage
While mentally you may be dragging your heels a wee bit, physically you're headed for a screeching halt! See above answer for getting physical with your physician and ditch extra brain baggage with a chummy chat.

LOWER Body Talk and HIGHER Brain Baggage
Well here we are, in the land of the lost libido. But you already knew that! If your partner has no problem with this, you can take your time figuring out how to get your life back in balance, how to figure out how important sex really is to you. But if you live with someone who scores a little higher on the libido range, you might find yourself deep in Bickerland. Only one thing to do -- buy my book!

The Making of a Yes Woman

2006-09-24T19:30:00.000-07:00

Last night my wife (two boys 3 & 5) said she was too tired for sex. Okay. So I offer to pleasure her orally, something we have a history of enjoying together. But she said that was too much work. I don't get it -- it would be me doing all the work. All she has to do is lay there and enjoy it. Why won't she let me make her feel good?
Signed, Sushi Lover in St. Paul

Dear Sushi Lover,
If I had a quick, clever answer to this question I'd be a sex genius. Sadly, I am merely a most modest maven when it comes to the psyche of women and oral sex; I have, in fact, more than once even, turned down the "all you have to do it lay there and I'll pleasure you" offer myself. But why? It's something I enjoy. It feels good. And c'mon -- it's not really that much work. And yet, like your wife, sometimes I just can't get to 'yes.'

Some theories:

Timing
I've said it before and I'll say it again: think about initiating sex at times OTHER than bedtime. Yes, occasionally it's nice to fall deep into each other before falling deep into sleep, but most of the time I'd way rather jump the sleep train than my husband. Personally I'm a fan of morning sex -- I've had minimal kid contact through the night, my testosterone and other hot hormone levels are high, I'm not exhausted and I'm a whole lot less irritable than I am at ten o'clock at night.

Technique
I am continually impressed by my husband's technique, which I credit to his close friendship with a lesbian during his formative sex-learning years. She should teach a class or something. To make sure you're yodeling in the canyon of love just as well, check out Ian Kerner's book She Comes First.

Expectations
I know for a fact -- because I asked him -- that if we had a life-like model of a vulva that looked, tasted, smelled and felt like a real one, that my husband would not hang out there mauwing on it all day just for fun. He doesn't have any problem getting intimate with my sexy bits, but let's be honest -- it's the getting me off part that's fun for him. Not just because he loves making me feel good, but also he gets off, too. Sometimes this knowledge gets in my way. Instead of focusing on the sweet breathy here and now, I keep thinking about where and how he wants things to go next. But this is my issue, not my husband's. I need to grow some damn selfishness is many areas of my life, including this one, and I'm working on that. But I have heard from girlfriends who believe their husbands go down on them only so they can get the same in return. If that's your expectation, you can also expect to hear "NO."

The Myth of the Be All End All
Lots of people think that oral sex is the pinnacle of intimacy and a sure route to the big O. That's a lot of pressure for a little lady lying there trying to relax. Sometimes, snuggling is just as sweet and sometimes we just want to get horizontal with you. Diving right in is a sweet gesture, but even the best foreplay needs some foreplay.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell
Sometimes I just don't want to. Sometimes I don't feel as "fresh" as I'd like. Sometimes it's a bad time of the month. For heaven's sake, if a woman gently pulls your head up and redirects you when you try to kiss her down there, don't push it or ask why. We have our reasons. Nothing kills the mood faster than saying, "Actually, Honey, my hemorrhoids are acting up and that's just too close for comfort." Just go with the flow and talk about it later when you're both in less vulnerable positions.

DO Ask, DO Tell
Have you asked your wife what she likes? Of course every woman has her own special skills and neuroses when it comes to speaking genitalese. Personally I think the hard part for me of "just laying there and enjoying it" is just laying there and enjoying ... well, anything. I'm such a Yes woman to everything and everyone else that I too often forget to say yes to myself. Yes to relaxation. Yes to trust. Yes to not worrying. Yes to taking something for myself. Yes to letting go. Frankly, that sounds pretty good right about now. After all, here it is, mid morning, hormone levels nice and sound, child at weekly play-date, details of technique still fluttering around in my mind, husband working diligently in downstairs office. Sounds like a nice wet YES to me; in fact, I can't think of one reason not to.

Seven Year Itch

2006-08-15T18:59:00.000-07:00

You're gonna need an ocean Of Calamine lotion
You'll be scratching like a houndThe minute you start to mess around
--The Coasters, "Poison Ivy"

Dear Naughty Mommy,

Did you ever think about having an extramarital affair as you were recovering your libido after child bearing?

Signed,
Itchin' for a Scratchin'

Such a timely question! As my husband and I begin our 14th (!) year together this month superstition nips at the heels of all my inter-sex interactions. Is there such a thing as a Seven Year Itch? At the end of our last seven years things got crazy -- we didn't have affairs, but we did fight like hell, almost moved to Mexico and adopted another dog. This year, with our daughter almost off to kindergarten, I feel vulnerable and charged. I'm open in a dangerous way. At a recent party not only were there drugs, but strangers giving me attention. I was able to say no the drugs, but the male attention was harder. I left the party unsettled, fantasizing about running off with the artist who asked to draw me, who kept staring at me in a very seven-year-itch kind of way. I imagined our artsy affair; lying under trees experiencing beauty together, not fighting about my illogical, oversensitive nature, being excited by each other, getting to know each other...

But I already know me. I know my weakness for new energy, my overeager imagination, my easy ability to crush on someone I know nothing about. Apparently my husband knows this about me too. That night he teased me about my new friend -- he jokingly asked if he could draw me as he took off my clothes and tucked me into bed. We laughed it off but we both knew the possibility of the night affected me -- the same way the overly sexual comments the short shorts girl made in our last softball game affected my husband, like a quietly dormant itch just waiting to be accidentally scratched.

Men and possibility have always gotten under my skin. When I was nineteen I fell for a guy who treated me like dirt, spit on me in public and pretty much fucked every other needy (hardcore, suburban, clean, dirty, crazy, blonde, redhead, brunette, shaved, boyish, girly, nice, nasty, pretty, ugly, plain) girl that came his way. I knew all that, but I just couldn't resist his bad boy charm and alcoholic extravagances, the thrill of the ups that went with the downs. And quite literally, he got under my skin. At first I thought it was fleas from the dumpy punk rock apartment we stayed in. But the more I scratched, the more I itched and the more little bumps showed up. Desperate for relief, I'd scratch until I bled, until -- for a moment -- relief, followed by a rash of new bumps.

By the time the bad boy shared his scabies cream with me, I knew I had to be done with him. It took weeks for the scabs to go away, and years for me to fully stop sleeping with the guy. Eventually, the itch did go away, but not without leaving some scars. I wish I knew then what I know now: that scabies, poison oak and crushes all get better if you don't inflame them. Have I ever thought about having an affair? Sure. Who wouldn't want the doting passion of an intense fantasy artist? But would I ever actually consider having an affair? Nope, because I've learned the hard way to let leaves of three be -- along with bad boys, interesting artists and any party where Ecstasy is easily available.

Naughty Mommy Q & A

2006-07-14T10:28:00.001-07:00

Here's a new Q & A with Meredith O' Brian

Pity Party; Coming Optional

2006-06-21T13:55:00.000-07:00

What does Dad need for Father's Day this year? If you've had a baby recently chances are that Daddy's needs have been pushed to the back burner, or, in the case of his sexual needs, shoved into the back of the deep freezer, covered in ice crystals and buried under last summer's lentil soup. When it comes to meeting her partner's needs, a libidinously-challenged reader wants to know what's up with pity sex.

Dear Naughty Mommy,
Since the baby was born my husband and I have WAY different needs. I'm fine with him doing me when I'm not super into it, but he complains that it feels like necrophilia! What's so wrong with a little pity sex? At least he's getting what he wants.

Ah, pity sex. Also known as, in my husband's not-so-fond terms, "Real Dolling." I remember when JB and I first heard about those $7,000 life-like, orifice-correct Real Dolls all those years ago. We lay in bed in our funky little apartment laughing, trying to imagine what kind of loser would need to get it on with a vinyl doll instead of a real person. We were so full of hormones and ourselves and each other we couldn't imagine the wrinkly horror of a future like that. Fast forward, though, to the months following the birth of our daughter and there I was, often my husband's very own Real Doll, barely life-like myself, letting him essentially masturbate inside me so I could cross sex off my list and get back to what really mattered -- like the dishes.

Here's the thing. Pity sex is a problem for those of us with easily lost or misplaced libidos because it's BAD SEX -- and bad sex is bad news for the libido because it doesn't inspire a whole lot of anticipation. As I see it, anticipation is the jump for stalled sexuality. It's the sublime fuel that turns even the tiniest spark of a sexy thought into an explosion. When I look ahead with longing to good sex, I can turn a simple look at my husband's strong arm as he swings our daughter at the park into a full-on fantasy. All day I'll remember how his ropy forearm reminds me of the way he clutches my upper thigh, how dark he looks against my pale skin, the way his wrist flexes when he reaches for my underwear, handling it with such purpose and pulling it just right against me before he slides down, wrapping his arms around my hips as he crouches to kiss me.

That, dear mother-reader, is anticipation. And it's a good thing.

But what's to anticipate when it comes to pity sex? The physical disassociation? That thousand mile stare? The dull resentment and suspicion that the supernova that was once your sex life is now entering the dreary slow fade department? Those things don't do it for me. And most likely they don't do it for your husband, either. The sad truth is he's probably NOT getting what he wants or needs. Contrary to popular belief, men don't need sex just because they need to stick their thing in something else every so often. Men need sex for the same reasons we need them to really listen to us: to prove that we're not alone, to share an intimate moment, to be noticed and seen as real human beings under all this parent mess.

So kill the pity parties and shoot instead for some real connection. Does this mean sex is off the table unless you're both totally one hundred percent on? Hardly. But unfortunately, good sex really is one of those use it or lose it things; the more you do it, the more you want it. When we were young and in love and full of hormones desire was always there; it was desire that led to all the touching and rubbing and endless naughtiness. But as we get older, desire is more a leap of faith -- it's the touching that often comes first now, it's the actual physicality that generates the hormones and revs up desire into something frantically recognizable. Plenty of times it takes me halfway through things before I really start to get hot, before I remember sex is something I like and want. But I'll initiate it anyway, not out of pity, but true charity.

If pity sex is all about checking something off the list, charity sex is all about checking in. It's not about meeting someone else's physical needs -- it's about meeting your relationship's emotional ones. It's about opening up, quite literally, to each other. It's about leaving the dishes and the kids and all that crap and giving yourself over to a moment of time and space together. Nobody is giving, nobody is taking but everybody is sharing. That's the kind of connection we had way back in that funky little apartment -- yes, the hormones and sinewy youth helped, but the real reason we couldn't keep our hands off each other was the way we made each other feel inside, the way we shut out the world and focused only on each other. It's much harder to do that as grown ups in an often trying grown up life -- but with a little tenderness (and in less time than the standard pity fuck) you can find yourself in a beautiful, charitable moment where two separate people actually feel like one. Now that's something worth anticipating.

---
Dear Naughty Mommy,
We're expecting our first child in May. How long after giving birth should I wait to suggest having sex?Worried in Idaho

Dear Worried, In general, if all is well with the healing process, most doctors and midwives give sex a big thumbs up about six weeks after the baby is born. I know couples who called their doctor to see if they could give it a go earlier -- and I know plenty of moms who at six weeks wanted to call their doctor and get another month's reprieve. Unfortunately, the only really right answer to "when should we have sex again?" is: "when your partner feels ready to give it a go." But that doesn't mean you have to sit around in the meantime doing nothing. Please, leave that part to me, as I'm on vacation in Hawaii right now! The truth is, there's plenty you can do to get things rolling in the right direction. But true to vacation mode, rather than coming up with brand new super clever ways to say those things I'll just post something I've already written about it in hopes of inspiring you. And for those of you dear fans who have already read my book back and forth and can't be bothered by this blatant recycling, I offer you the beauty of all-new banter with Hawaiian columnist Charles Memminger of the Star Bulletin.

Aloha and mahalo, T.N.M.

How to Bring Out the Naughty in Your Favorite Mommy:
Foreplay

Get frisky: Encourage her to go for a walk with you, or offer to hang with the kids while she goes to the gym. Exercise increases blood flow to all areas of the body, if you know what I mean. Talk dirty to her: And use your body to show you mean it. Vacuum, sweep, clean the toilet. Who cares if it's not usually your job, or if you have no idea what you're doing? She'll appreciate the effort.

Get her laid: Sleep deprivation is an actual form of torture; it's definitely not sexy. Take the kids out first thing in the morning so she can sleep in. Take on an extra midnight diaper change; it might not be your turn, but it is a turn-on.

Cop a feel: There's nothing hotter to me than a man close to tears. Share a feeling now and then. It doesn't make you a sap, it makes you sexy.

Build Up
Make a booty call: Pick up the phone and arrange reliable, safe childcare your wife will approve of. Don't assume she'll take care of it. If you're staying in for the night, check and change all booties. Put said booties to bed.

Get fresh: I never got over my heightened sense of smell from pregnancy. I can smell salami on my husband's breath a mile away and it's never a turn-on. So if she turns away from your kisses, don't take it personally. And never underestimate the desexualizing smell of baby butt or bad breath. So primp away, and pimp away.

Stroke, don't poke: I'm talking ego here (though this is good advice in lots of areas, including pool). Tell her she looks hot, you like her lips, her legs, whatever. Don't poke at her insecurities or make fun -- that's so fifth grade. And whatever you do, don't joke about never having sex. Or you won't ever have sex.

Climax
Go under cover: Literally. Don't even walk in the room without a condom or some other birth control method out and ready to go. There's nothing like the thought of getting pregnant again to get in the way of getting off.

Lubricate: Wine is good for lubricating senses and brain cells dried out by baby talk and Barney. Probe, Liquid Platinum or your other favorite water-based blend is good for lubricating vaginas made dry by funky nursing hormones and post-partum traumas. Keep both flowing and plentiful on the big night.

Give oral pleasure: Talk to her. Tell her what you thought the first time you saw her. Tell her what you think the best sex you ever had (with her, only!) was. Tell her what you want to do to her tonight. Release: Let go and let it out. Laugh. Let go of those great sexpectations and see where the night really takes you. Let out your desires, your passion, your hopes and dreams. Don't hold back, don't be shy, don't judge.

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Lately I want to write or think or talk about anything other than my sex life. Maybe it's because my dad is suddenly way too comfortable bringing the topic up with me, or because my daughter is getting older and more savvy; she just realized the graphic on my book cover is actually a bra - not the fancy pair of sunglasses she thought it was for so long. Whatever the reason, I've decided to take a break from writing about my sex life. Does this mean no more Naughty Mommy? No more Sex in the Suburbs? No way! I'll just be writing about YOUR sexual naughtiness, or lack of it, instead of mine. So gather up your courage and your questions and send them my way (naughtymommy@comcast.net). I'll post the best ones right here with my answers. My first question ever comes from a male reader who saw my recent stint on the
Washington Post:

Dear Naughty Mommy, ....it seems as if your entire purpose is to keep the monogamy going no matter what level of work is required. You discuss this from a very considered point of view. In your research or consideration...have you as seriously discussed the natural result of allowing the familiar to be love on one level and the sexual to be love on another level with a mistress or third party?

Dearest Washington Poster,
Monogamy. The work of it. The comfy underwear. The grueling weeklong fights. The unflinching honesty about things like smelly body parts and bad haircuts. Why on Earth do we do this to ourselves? When I met my husband twelve years ago, he and his girlfriend at the time were asking these same questions. It was all very San Francisco -- after all, they were learning to question everything about The Man, so why not question the monogamy part too? They decided that indeed an open relationship was the way to go. They lived together, happily, while dating and sleeping with other folks, all in a very open and honest way. It was a great gig for them -- until I came into the picture. Then, suddenly, their open relationship became very closed. Because what all three of us soon realized was that sex outside their primary relationship was no longer simply about a controlled experiment in freedom and progressive mores. It was about falling head over heels in love with someone that threw everything we thought we knew upside down. This is what you risk when you introduce any "third party" into a relationship, whether it's with a mistress or with another couple you're swinging with.

Let me be clear, though. While I am totally anti-mistress and anti cheating — it's hurtful and destroys trust, as well as breaking the foundation of friendship and marriage — I think it's important to point out that I'm not necessarily opposed to open relationships or a swinging lifestyle. I'm just opposed to it for me. The truth is, for some folks, it's entirely possible that looking outside the familiar strictly for sex may be a good choice -- though I hesitate to call it natural. After all, in the "natural" world animals do all kinds of nutty things. Some are monogamous, lots are not. And a few eat the heads of their partners after mating. That doesn't mean that it's right for everyone.

Of course, it seems to be right for some. In Seattle, at least, you don't have to look far to find otherwise pretty regular couples for whom swinging seems to work just fine. Just weeks ago I caught an Oprah episode, cleverly enough entitled "Sex in the Suburbs", about relationships made stronger by swinging. These couples have sex with other couples: eyes open, relationship open, communication open. They seemed smart and happy and well-spoken about the whole thing. And they gave new meaning to the saying: "The family that plays together, stays together...." Suddenly I found myself in monogamy crisis. What do they know that we don't? What are we missing? Maybe they're on to something? I had a horrible image of us sixty years from now, chagrining together at our youthful innocence: "'member back when people got married? Remember when everyone thought monogamy was the way to go?" The whole thing gave me vaguely the same feeling I get when I go to dinner parties with other parents and, with the kids finally asleep, people start smoking pot. It seems like such a good idea. It's fun. They're not addicts or irresponsible. They're just heightening things a bit, adding a little extra salt or something spicy to a domestic life that can be a little bland. Why not? I think, envious at their obvious enjoyment. But then I remember. Why not? Because when I smoke pot I spend most of the time in the bathroom -- or in my head -- thinking too much about the way my heart seems to have a murmur, or the sirens outside or the way the wind on the roof seems to be telling me something, but I'm not quite sure what. For me, I think, the question isn't really, "Why monogamy?" It's, "Why not anything else?" Why not swing? Because, honestly, I think I would hate it. Because I'd want it to be fun but really it would be just another thing to turn me into a big mess. I don't do well separating sex and love. I don't like sex with no strings attached.

For me, good sex is all about the strings; the sticky, slippery, confining, liberating strings of emotion. That's what turns me on. Beyond that, me swinging would be like being an alcoholic working in a bar. I tend to fall in love as easily as catching a cold. This is what is "natural" for me: falling prey to the chemical cocktail of dopamine, phenylethylamine and oxytocin that make me want to give myself over to one person and lose myself in them. The last time I did that I ended up here, in this perhaps unnatural, often challenging place called marriage. The drugs may have worn off some, but I'm still happy to be here, I'm still stoned on the safety and comfort it offers me. My husband calls monogamy a beautiful compromise.

Do we ever think about stepping out of our "vanilla" ways and spicing things up? Sure. In a perfect world, my husband would go to bed each night with me and my stripper girlfriend. But do we seriously consider it? Nope, because in exchange for working our asses off at this monogamy thing, in exchange for passing up the excitement of sex with other people, we get something else. We get to eliminate one variable. We get to look at the hard stuff without the distraction of the easy always being an option. We get to make new mistakes instead of getting stuck at our same old places, our same old jumping off points. It is hard, but it's also deep -- not unlike the sex we've been having lately, yet another payoff. For us, the risks involved with bringing anyone else into our relationship are just not worth it. Vanilla is not so bad — it really is a beautiful compromise. The reliability of it makes any extras we manage to throw on there taste even better. And to me, that's pretty sweet.

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My Year of Living Naughtily

January 2005
New Year's resolutions: Stop biting nails. Work on writing. Fight fear. Get an agent. Who do you think you're kidding? Tame inner critic. Grow thicker skin. Find lost libido.

March 2005
Sign with agent! Sign Naughty Mommy book contract! Celebrate! Enjoy drunk, wild celebratory sex with husband. Take that, inner critic! I'm the Naughty Muthafuckin' Mommy. What will I wear on Oprah?

May 2005
Receive first half of advance. Panic about depositing it. Bite nails a lot. Stop having sex. Fight about not having sex. Yell at everyone. Cry. Bite nails more. What the hell was I thinking? Question writing ability. Question naughty ability. Question mommy ability, particularly overuse of Calliou while buying time to write.

June 2005
Procrastinate. Decide editor hates me. Decide daughter hates me for sending her to preschool five hours a day. Avoid writing by cleaning and enjoying sex with husband in child-free house instead. Feel pretty sure husband doesn't hate me. Cry over that. Cry over edits. Miss daughter.

July 2005
Write like crazy. Remember old naughty side -- risk-taking, whiskey-drinking, dancing-on-table side. Remember my nasty, mean-spirited, imperfect, imaginary childhood friend, Herina. Use her as inspiration. Develop thicker skin. Consider that maybe editor is not so bad. Abuse caffeine. Agree with editor. See that daughter is fine. Paint fledgling nails.

September 2005
Realize other people might actually read book. Realize being thinned-skinned isn't the way to go when you're in the middle of writing a tell-all book about yourself. Panic. Worry about coming off as too naughty for my parents, worry about coming off as too nice for my naughty friends. Worry about stalkers, shame, and opinion of grandparents, in-laws, book reviewers. Melt when husband says he'll stand up for me, go to bat for me, kick any critic's butt. Inner critic fades under his certainty. Show husband thicker skin and new nails. Really show him, if you know what I mean.

November 2005
Receive copy of finished book. Who cares what anyone thinks? I wrote a damn book! I WROTE A BOOK! Carry book around for days like it's my new baby. It is: conception, gestation, three months of labor. Sleep next to book. Decide I'd nurse it if I could. Note that book baby doesn't affect sleep or libido in same way as real baby. Rejoice with more naughtiness.

December 2005
Fly to NYC to be on TODAY Show! Bite nails instead of sleeping on red eye. Wander city looking for fake nails but pick up stomach flu instead. Try to have naughty hotel vacation sex but end up puking instead. Sleep on hotel bathroom floor. Puke more. Stay up all night changing sheets for husband and daughter while they puke. Drag everyone to interview. Fight fear. Have strange desire to curl up in Ann Curry's lap and sleep. Talk about sex life on national TV instead. Daughter charms everyone in Green Room, hugs TV monitor with my picture on it. Take phone calls from friends who make fun of my hair. Talk to Mom, who calls to say I'll always be her star. No one notices nails. No more naughty New York nights. And, just like that, we're home.

January 2006
New Year's resolutions: Stop biting nails. Work on writing. Fight fear. Oprah? Who do you think you're kidding? Tame inner critic. Grow thicker skin. Enjoy mostly here, sometimes still-on-the-lam, quality-is-so-much-more-important-than-quantity libido. Start by kissing husband at midnight. Use tongue.