So, turns out, one thing Christians enjoy as much as sex is reading about Christians having sex. The last post produced a lot of enthusiastic comments from Christian moms, and I think some of these ladies were the girls who spent high school walking around in denim skirts, holding copies of I Kissed Dating Goodbye and secretly pining for Kyle, the senior with the earring and the ripped jeans, except he was dating a cheerleader and GUESS WHAT JENNIFER, I’M MARRIED WITH 4 KIDS AND I’VE HAD SEX 891 TIMES, SO WHO’S THE POPULAR ONE NOW
I see you, Christian Mom.
[pours out Crystal Pepsi on floor of edgy youth group annex in memory of Kyle and Jennifer]
[hums “The Hard Way,” throws WWJD bracelet into wind]
[it falls straight down]
[sighs, picks it up, puts it back on]
Anyway, on to part 2:
The “Independent Baptist”
Look, don’t act like it’s a storm shelter. That’s a bunker, and you built it in 1999 because you thought the Y2K bug was going to be God’s punishment for Clinton, and you filled it with bottled water and Vienna sausages but now it’s 2015 and the only thing you use it for is to store all the Christmas decorations.
Start with a little reverse psychology: ask the kids if one of them is going to help you clean out the bunker. Watch them scatter like Methodists hearing about the church work day. Fine, Mommy and Daddy will clean it out. Grab the broom and some garbage bags just to put the finishing touch on the deception. Now you’ve got a solid 40 minutes of uninterrupted solitude. Is it going to be dusty? Sure. But you know what else is getting dusty? Your private parts. Your 40 minutes is ticking away, get busy.
The “Water Saver”
“Kids, we’re in a hurry [sort of true] so your mother and I are going to hop in the shower.”
“We’re trying to save some hot water [not true]. Water is expensive [also not true].”
The bathroom door gets locked, you turn on the water, and thus begins the great Aqua Tetris. The logistics are difficult enough, but heaven forbid that one of you is taller than 5’10” or pregnant, because then the angles get really problematic.
And we’re not talking millennial-hyperventilating-about-safe-space “problematic.”
Like, chiropractic problematic.
The “Early Bird”
Your 3-year-old won’t sleep? Is it after midnight and you’re still hearing her do that weird toddler maneuver where they lie in bed and sing nonsense songs to keep themselves awake? In these moments, some couples make a tactical withdrawal to the early morning hours.
This is mostly done by couples who are on a tight schedule trying to conceive, because–really–who wants to wake up at 5am to do anything.
The alarm is set for 5:30am and your horrible 3-year-old is effectively outflanked. She can keep you awake on the front end, but she can’t stay up all night. Only Little Pete could do that, and he had Artie, The Strongest Man in the World helping him.
Just don’t do that thing where you wake up and roll over and immediately begin making out. They do that in the movies, and…I mean…what is that thing? Nobody does that. When you wake up you have breath that tastes like a sweaty handful of nickels. James Dobson was right, Hollywood is a cabal of lies.
The “Screamer Beamer”
Ha ha, just kidding. If you are reading this you probably don’t have a BMW, you have a 2004 Dodge Grand Caravan with one tire that always loses air and you’re trying to hold out on replacing it until the income tax refund comes back, even though you can already see the metal wire things through the tread and DEAR JESUS PLEASE HOLD THIS VEHICLE TOGETHER FOR ONE MORE WEEK
Anyway, a common problem among Christian parents is the tendency to scream during lovemaking. This is the sound of idealism leaving the body, and it is something that happens to everyone in their 30s. However, the noise can often be a problem since it wakes up the children, who want to know why Daddy is hurting Mommy, and go back to bed, we’re exercising.
Problem solved: that homeschool party wagon sitting in your driveway is more than just a church transport. That’s a motherflippin sound-proof room. Peer out the blinds before sheepishly trudging out into the darkness, pillows in hand. If this minivan’s a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking. But maybe leave a couple of Advil on the hood, this is going to hurt in the morning.