Let me know if I am alone in this experience. Kids are bathed and it's storytime. I slip into some lingerie under a boring robe to let my husband know he is going to get lucky. Even better is the see-through negligee I put on is too big! I have lost so much weight even the string on the G is hanging. Don't worry I am not sick, I am a healthy 140 and a 36 D, I am not skipping meals.
We rush through some Dr. Seuss, fill up some sippy cups, rub some backs and turn out the lights.
20 minutes later I am on my back, each hand is clutching some freshly laundered sheets, my heels are dug in, my pelvis tilted and my eyes are ready to go double cherries and roll over and over like a slot machine. I am not exaggerating, I am seconds away from why I have 3 kids in the first place. And then screeeech, the brakes slam. An offspring is malingering at my bedroom door.
"Mom, it's me." This is done in a huge stage whisper.
"Mom, what are you doing?". Also hissed through the keyhole in my bedroom door. Why don't they ever ask for Daddy?
And I am so far gone, I actually think for a second that I can tune this voice out. I can go to a faraway place in my head and achieve my goal.
"Mom, it's me Michael." Really? Because I thought it was Brad Pitt coming to do back-up.
At this point 2 things go through my head: G-d hates me and if I was a man this would not phase me.
So instead I answer this voice.
"Go to bed", I hiss.
"NOW!", I growl, something like a werewolf.
Ok that's it. I shove away source of pleasure, trying not to poke him in the eye, I levitate off the bed and fly towards locked bedroom door. At this point the gremlin has realized pain is coming his way and he starts to hustle off down the hallway. He's fast and he is through his bedroom door before I can get into the hallway. I am naked and enraged.
"Head on pillow, NOW!"
"good-night, I love you."
"sigh........I love you too, do not get out of this bed for anything got it?"
Back to my bedroom and thankfully we were able to pick back up the thread. And then some.