So often our bedrooms, once our sanctuary, our retreat, our playroom are lost. Our bedrooms become a second bedroom for our children—their oasis from nightmares, fears, even loneliness.
I remember some of the best sex was the middle-of-the-night sleepy sex—the one that happened right after we returned our child to his bed, soothed from a nightmare and assured he was safe. But then we had another child and another and could never predict when a child would stroll into our bedroom, looking for comfort.
Gone was the sexy nightgown, replaced by an opaque, baggy gown or worse, one of my husband’s old undershirts, just in case there was an unexpected child standing at the threshold of our bedroom waiting to be comforted.
In SEX HAPPENS, the husband asks, “Where was that sexy nightgown all these years?” He then looked for it—with another. We have to remember we are not only mothers, but also wives. In the forgetting, we lose more than our sexuality, we lose the intimacy it fosters. Keeping the children safe also mean protecting the family—the marriage.