Mommy porn is a phrase that's been bandied about a lot lately — as we all know--because of the wild success of fifty Shades of Grey. But why the term when it's really just erotica? Is it because women's sexuality is still taboo and still needs to be categorized? Is it because the idea of women enjoying something as "scandalous" as BDSM is so threatening that it needs to be termed "mommy porn" to diminish its potency?
It can be scary to think about getting back out there and making possible changes. The biggest thing to keep in mind is to take your time and have fun rediscovering the new you. Here are some simple tips you can begin to take so that you can start to feel dateable again.
When my daughter was born, I was determined to be a breastfeeding, co-sleeping, baby-wearing, cloth diapering, hippie mama. Nine months later, the only thing that'd stuck was the cloth diapers. I had just started my daughter on formula, she had been in the sling exactly five times and never once slept in her fancy little co-sleeper, which I returned to the store. And yes, I felt like a failure.
When it comes to my children and preparing them for romance, I'm pretty conservative. Love, relationships and sex, are all huge life situations that can make or break times of your life and influence who you are and the path your life will take, and I don't want to underprepare my kids by treatly the subject lightly.
Last week, as I lay in bed trying to go to sleep with a diapered behind smooshed against my cheek, I pondered why it is that children are so talented at sucking the life out of their parents' sex lives. My kids don't even know what sex is (I don't think, although I may have just jinxed that), but they're like little sex leeches, bleeding the life out of our bedroom activities.
If you had showed me this Time Magazine cover, featuring a mother breastfeeding her toddler who is STANDING UP, one year ago, I would have laughed. "Not me! That won't be me! I will breastfeed until she's around one. 10 months maybe?" Yet there I was the other day, nursing an almost one-year-old who was...standing up.
Diana Stone was just shy of 19 weeks pregnant with her twin boys when her water broke. She went to the hospital where the doctor's recommended that she induce and terminate the pregnancy.
I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat animals and restaurant servers. Even if you aren’t an animal person, and honestly, I don’t think I am, there’s still a way to create creatures with respect and kindness. My husband and I had many early dinner dates, and I was always impressed with how he treated wait-staff. He was polite but not flirty with the pretty ones, and he always tipped well but not gratuitously. And he had a rescued greyhound that he took amazing care of, so I knew that he was a decent human being. But there was one event that happened early in our relationship that really helped me see the kind of man he was.
After our daughter was born, I realized I needed to give up some control in order to quit nagging my husband. I could no longer micro-manage trash day, toilet scrubbing and the proper placement of towels after a shower. I needed to begin to trust that even without my seemingly gentle reminders, things would get done.
For most of us, a new year is synonymous with a brand new you. But what happens if we resolve to simply quash the self-improvement urge? This new year, I resolve not to resolve. Don't confuse my promise not to improve as a refusal to grow or change. It's just that after seven-and-a-half months as a first time mother, I'm tired of feeling like I could be doing more. Doing better. Slowing down. Enjoying the moment. All while anticipating the next milestone and celebrating accomplishments. And then, wishing time would slow down; because after all, they're growing up too fast.