Valentine’s Day After Having Kids

*This post contains affiliate links which means I make a commission for purchases made through the following link.*

Valentine’s Day with my husband used to be fun. We used to live in the big city, and we would always go to our favorite seafood restaurant.  (We were never overly romantic, getting messy with crab legs was romantic enough for us.) We would fill our bellies with delicious crab legs and giant mixed drinks that make it hard to walk once you’ve finished. Afterwards, my husband would usually surprise me with a new piece of jewelry, and we would go wherever the night took us.

Now we live in a tiny town where no one offers decent crab legs. We also have two children. For some reason now we act about 15 years older than we really are. I’m not kidding. We watch Family Feud every night. My husband and I go on a date maybe once every two or three months. Yes, I know, wife of the year award should go to me. It’s so hard to find the time or energy to go anywhere together.

Needless to say, the last several Valentine’s days have been uneventful. We made our own tradition of having crab legs at home. (My husband is an amazing seafood cook, thank the good Lord.) I haven’t been able to have a drink with liquor in it in over three years, and if I had one now I’d probably just end up pregnant again. So I usually get a nice water bottle, or if I’m feeling crazy a cup of lemonade. We top the night off with watching cartoons in bed, me sneaking chocolate, and wondering where my newest diamond is? Just kidding, sort of.

Although, I may long for the days of sipping ice-cold blended alcohol while taking pictures to show off my newest diamond earrings, having Valentine’s dinner at home with my kids is kind of fun. It’s our new tradition. It may not be romantic at all.  We may not get any alone time,  but it’s fun. It’s ours.

Let’s be real, as long as my husband brings me chocolate I don’t really care what we do for Valentine’s day. I am a chocoholic and I could sit on the sofa shoving my face full of delicious boxed chocolates watching Family Feud all night. You know what, that is exactly what I want to do after our “romantic” Valentine’s dinner. Just leave me alone with chocolate and Steve Harvey and I’ll be the happiest woman in the world.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

What do you do for Valentine’s day? Go on a romantic date? Involve your kids? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for reading, please follow my blog, like and share!

“We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to and affiliated sites”

Sex And The Lack Thereof


Sweaty, dirty, crazy, fun sex.

Or so it used to be before children. Before having beautiful little snot monsters, before shredded vaginas, or cut open tummies, we used to enjoy sex. We used to enjoy getting wild in the spur of the moment. Now it’s an entirely different story.

Now, we need about a week to physically and mentally prepare ourselves. I mean, last time I shaved my legs? Judging by the length of the hair, I’ll say it was when my first was born. Two years ago. Okay, maybe not that bad, but it is pretty bad.

Not just the hair, I also don’t like my body anymore. (Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my tiger stripes and wouldn’t change them for the world.) I don’t like myself naked right now. My hairy, flabby, exhausted, sometimes smelly, self. The fact that I look like a real life version of Chewbacca doesn’t exactly make me feel desirable anymore.

Let’s just for a minute pretend that I do get to take a nice long shower all by myself (HA!), and I’m able to shave every hairy spot and scrub off all of the boogers and spit up that coat my body, that is one problem solved.

Great. Let’s go to the next problem.

*This post contains affiliate links which means I make a commission for purchases made through the following link.*

Kids. The kids that keep me up all night long. The kids that never sleep. How am I supposed to get myself in the mood for some hanky panky when I have two little poop machines constantly attaching themselves to me? After corralling them all day long, scrubbing poop out of the carpet, and just generally trying not to lose my mind, how am I supposed to say, “Ya, I’d love to have sex now, I’m so relaxed.” When was the last time my husband and I were alone? I can’t even tell you. Or even both children asleep at the same time? Call me crazy but sneaking into the other room while one or more of my children are awake is not exactly ideal. The thought that they could just walk in on us and scar their poor little brains for life is kind of a turn off.

Another problem, sore va jay jays and leaky boobs. I’ll group these into one problem. One massive problem. After pushing out babies who ripped you open from butthole to elbow, normally you aren’t thrilled to jump back into the sack anytime soon. For some of us it takes an entire YEAR before we are ready to even try to have sex; and when we do, it HURTS! I really don’t want to do the dirty when it feels like my hoo-ha is being stung by a hive of angry wasps. Then, if you are still nursing your baby, you have to worry about leaky, sore boobs. Nothing is sexier than having boob juice leaking between your bodies causing wet, warm, stickiness.

Basically what I’m saying is, sex is different after you become a mom. I am sure not everyone out there feels the same. Some of you probably have magical vaginas that shoot rainbows out and heal instantly, and some of you have the sex drive of a teenage boy. To you, I say, Good for you and your magic peaches. For the rest of us, just hang in there, sisters. It will probably get better, someday. I hope.

I want to hear from you, do you have a magical vagina? How long did you wait to have sex? How do you make it work? Tell me in the comments!

Did this give you a giggle? Please follow my blog, like and share!