My Husband Doesn’t Know I Am Posting Our Texts

They say that children sap all of the spark out of marriage because everyone ends up so exhausted from the maw of modern parenthood.  I have no idea what “they” are talking about.  Jeff and I have a lot to offer new (and experienced) parents when it comes to keeping those embers hot enough to make you want to toss aside your Kindle version of Fifty Shades so you can act out scenes from Dirty Dancing while naked. (And I am not talking about the “I carried the watermelon” scene, if you catch my drift.)  All you need is your cell phone and at least one serviceable thumb to text your Beloved.

Here’s how Jeff and I steamed up the airwaves with our passion the other day when Simon and I were waiting downstairs for Jeff and Sadie get in the car for our daily weekly Costco run:

(*Jeff’s comments, texted when he was trapped beneath Sadie’s sleeping body, appear in white bubbles; mine are in blue.)

Modern Day Love Letter

Love Letter 2012

It’s totally got a William Carlos Williams feel to it, right? It’s poetic in that it seems to concern solely the prosaic details of one family’s Saturday afternoon.  But if you look deeper, you can see underneath the quotidian veneer that Jeff is sending me signals about how he plans to ravage my body as soon as (1) Sadie wakes up and gets the hell off of him, (2) I get back from Costco with Simon, (3) he rinses Sadie’s urine off his body, (4) we feed the kids frozen strawberry smoothies for dinner, and (5) I take my Zoloft.

Can you see it? Can you feel it?

Sizzzzzzzzzzzzzle.

I almost feel guilty because I wonder if we are contributing to global warming with all the heat we generate.  Just in case, I contribute to Greenpeace.

Now that I have shared this intimate snapshot of my marital relationship, I have a few requests:

  • Please don’t tell Simon I referred to him as “Son,” because it sounds so impersonal– like I forgot his name.
  • Don’t tell my kids or that freaky must-buy-organic-fruit mom that we buy our strawberries frozen.  From Costco. (And, since that secret’s out, I will disclose that we blend the strawberries with Benadryl and ruffies so we can get some sleep.)
  • Don’t tell my kids or the police that I was texting while driving, BECAUSE THAT’S DANGEROUS.
  • Don’t hate me because I keep it hot & steamy with my baby daddy.

29 thoughts on “My Husband Doesn’t Know I Am Posting Our Texts

  1. Much like Sadie, I think I just peed myself. This is the funniest thing I’ve read in forever! Would you please share your roofie and benadryl smoothie recipe? That way if my kid ever decides to eat I’ll be ready.

    Fifty shades of what? You got more heat and better wardrobe!!

  2. I LOVE that seen in Crazy, Stupid, Love (where they reenact DD) and I love that WCW poem. This post was freaking hysterical. You guys are wild and Costco crazy. Now stop making us look bad (and please send samples of your roofie smoothie)!!

  3. You had me at “carried a watermelon” !!!! (Dirty Dancing is seriously one of my FAV movies, no shame here). This is crazy funny. I almost made an inappropriate joke but we’ve only just virtually met and I don’t want to paint the wrong picture.

  4. I love this!!! I kno exactly how you feel! Everyone told us that things in bed stop when the ring goes on,,, but that’s not been true for us at all!!! There is a lot that didn’t happen for example,, we fight less often, his habits that drives me crazy stop after the right attitude, and I don’t feel like he is with a girl every time he don’t pick up his phone,,, we don’t have kids yet,, but it is good to hear that the good stuff don’t die! Thx for this!

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    Vores typehus er boliger, hvor der er tænkt på menneskets individuelle drømme om fleksibilitet, trivsel og livskvalitet.

  6. Pingback: Feature Friday: Outlaw Mama | Stuphblog

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