Two little drops of reddish brown on my underwear. Here we go again.
Since I had kids my cycle is irregular, which wouldn't be a big deal except that I'm an Orthodox Jew and I can't even pass the salt to my husband—let alone touch, kiss, or have sex with him—for 12 days after my period starts. We never know when we'll have to sleep in separate beds or place a vase with a single rose between us on the dinner table as evidence of our separation.
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I was beginning to hate the rigid restrictions on my sex life until the other day, when I was sitting on a blanket with my two toddlers in a suburban Detroit park, eating pretzels from Ziploc bags and listening to other moms talking about their sex lives.
"We haven't had sex since we conceived the twins," said one mom. "And they're a year-and-a-half old. Add nine months to that."
"I just don't feel like it since I had my baby," confessed another, stroking her 15-month-old's hair.
Then came the really shocking admissions. "I'd love to have sex," a third mom said, "but I'd have to do all the work. My husband isn't interested." A fourth mother described her marriage as being more like a brother-sister relationship than a passionate or fierce one.
As I listened to one woman after another bemoan her sad sex life, I thought about how, after five years of marriage, Avy and I are hotter than ever. Suddenly, I felt very religious.
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