Response #17: (wknutson) Wed May 5 '99 (11:37)

 I think what's been said about hormonal changes, demanding children, body
 image, and so forth is all spot on, but I bring my own ingredients to the
 "why no sex?" brew.
 
 My typical weekday runs like this:
 
 (1) Get jolted out of fitful sleep when our three-year-old starts
 screaming for Mommy, as he has done 90% of the days of his life.
 
 (2) Immediately rush to grab the three-month old, who has started crying.
 
 (3) Slap a new diaper on the baby.
 
 (4)  Quickly prepare toast and fruit for my son's breakfast and coffee for
 my wife. Try to grab a little bit of each for myself... oops the phone is
 ringing!
 
 (5) Listen to mommy mafia member ask "What are we doing today?". Wife
 appears with son and asks "Who is it?. Answer. Wife attempts to take
 phone; high-demand son screams and grabs her leg. I continue to hold phone
 and become middleman in a "tell her..." conversation.
 
 (6) Notice that I have a meeting at work in 23 minutes. 
 
 (7) Gesticulate wildly while repeating arguments for or against a
 particular meeting place. Say "Oops! Gotta go. Sorry!" and hang up phone.
 Wife fumes.
 
 (8) If I have not showered in three days (typical), realize with sinking
 feeling I must rinse myself off as meeting is in small conference room.
 
 (9) Turn on shower jump in, put soap on vital areas, forget rest. 
 
 (10) Son appears with all manner of water toys wanting to play.
 
 (11) Demurr. Screaming starts. Wife fumes.
 
 (12) Baby poops. Wife comforting son, me changing diaper naked and
 dripping wet.
 
 (13) Attempt to find clothes. No clean laundry, dig through dirty clothes
 hamper to find something that passes the "sniff test". 
 
 (14) Slap on clothes, sprint for door. Wife blurts out 20-30 item list of
 "things to pick up on the way home" while nursing baby.
 
 (15) Roar into parking lot only 10 minutes late which is just as good as
 on time. Almost.
 
 (16) Seat self in meeting with apologies. Find out meeting is pointless as
 usual. But I'm here.
 
 (17) Work 8-9 hours with usual office antics abounding. Field a half-dozen
 calls from wife detailing tantrums thrown, obligations forming ("Emily's
 birthday party -- you know, _Emily_, her mommy is [insert unknown woman's
 name here] -- is on Saturday and my parents are coming to town for a quick
 trip this weekend"), naps taken, dunning notices received, revisions to
 grocery list. Sometime take lunch -- the biggest, fattest cheeseburger you
 can find, since you haven't had much substantial to eat since, well, lunch
 yesterday, which was, of course, a big fat cheeseburger. Feel grossly
 stuffed and vow to eat better tomorrow.
  
 (18) With heavy heart, prepare to leave office. Phone rings last time with
 message that washer has broken down and add bread to grocery list. Be
 advised that wife "can't take this [reference to children screaming in
 background, no doubt] much longer" and would I please get my
 office-loafing self home right away.
 
 (19) Pick wrong line at supermarket. Learn that with enough discussion and
 management involvement an individual _can_ use a 50 cent off coupon for
 shaving cream on breakfast cereal. Snarl at said individual who neither
 notices or cares.
 
 (20) Arrive home "late" (same time as yesterday, day before, etc.). Wife
 fumes and demands screaming son be taken out on trike ride immediately.
 
 (21) Stroll around block in full business regalia carrying tricycle and
 son, who is not in mood to ride or, for that matter, walk.
 
 (22) Arrive back at house to learn no dinner preparations have been made,
 despite heartfelt promise of "having something decent tonight, not like
 last night".
 
 (23) Strip down to underwear (tossing business clothes on floor)
 while son watches crap on TV you know will end in 8 minutes. Rush to
 kitchen.
 
 (24) Fling together roughly what you had last night for dinner: pasta with
 ready-made sauce, salad greens ripped from bag and doused with bottled
 dressing. Damn, forgot bread at market.
 
 (25) Son now interested in trike ride. Attempt to substitute fun
 "dishwaser unloading" game. Fail. Screaming starts. Put son in room until
 he can calm down. Screaming intensifies.
 
 (26) Try to dish up dinner. Wife is nursing baby, says "you eat now, I'll
 eat later." 
 
 (27) Stand outside son's bedroom door and explain over and over that when
 he's quiet he can come out. Shovel half the food in between screams and
 forced "gentle, but firm" cajoling. Headache starts. Set down plate on
 hallway floor.
 
 (28) Son quiets down and trots out of room and attempts to aggressively
 squeeze younger sister who is nearly asleep. Mother gently puts baby in
 crib as daddy restrains son, who begins to scream, waking up baby. Wife
 fumes.
 
 (29) Attempt to block all visions of physical violence from mind.
 
 (30) Hug son and gently lead him to kitchen in approved New Age manner.  
 He refuses prepared dinner and insists on yogurt with dinosaurs on cup,
 pretzels, and cheese. Gruyere cheese.
 
 (31) Find no Gruyere, substitute Jarlsberg, but Marin-bred son notices
 difference and screams. Also notes that water cup is filled with Crystal
 Geyser sparkling water and not his preferred Calistoga. More screams.
 
 (32) Wife drags self into kitchen, stands up while eating now cold pasta
 and warm salad. Son attaches himself to her leg while wife explains that
 he is "slow to adapt" and that the Jarlsberg was a real blow to him and
 could I please be more attentive to his needs which are every bit as
 legitimate as mine.
 
 (33) Fume. Head throbbing.
 
 (34) Baby starts to cry -- parental blood pressure skyrockets -- but then
 comforts self. Sighs of relief.
 
 (35) Give bath to son, whose favorite bathtime game is throwing wet
 plastic dinosaurs at father's head.
 
 (36) Dry off son and self. Son runs naked through house. Rationalize a
 need for "airing out" private parts.
 
 (37) Have brief conversation with wife, consisting of her telling of
 wonderful bargains purchased today. Dramatically take Tylenol.
 
 (38) Son wants to watch TV. Suggest book instead. Son likes idea as long
 as book has a TV tie-in.
 
 (39) Read sub-literate tale of TV characters. Try to skip ads in the back.
 Son regards said ads as integral part of the book. Wishes to buy every
 item right this instance.
 
 (40) Phone rings. Wife reviews entire day with woman she spent day with.
 Flurry of "what do we do tomorrow" calls begin amongst mommy mafia
 members.
 
 (41) Son hears mommy on phone, runs out to scream at her to get off. Daddy
 tries to distract by offering video viewing.
 
 (42) Son likes video idea, selects title containing characters from the
 previously read book. Won't let me fast forward through ten minutes of
 ads.
 
 (43) Think about Disney headquarters, a U-Haul truck, and some fertilizer.
 
 (44) Wife done on phone. Plops on couch next to me. Watch video for 1211th
 time, but who's counting.
 
 (45) Think about sex for 3.9 seconds.
 
 (46) Baby cries, wife rushes off to comfort.
 
 (47) Son wants trike ride. Naked trike ride.
 
 (48) Cajole son into jammies with promise of a short ride just on the
 driveway.
 
 (49) Slip robe over undies and stand in the cold, dark driveway while son
 makes 20 circuits and then bolts down the sidewalk.
 
 (50) Chase amazingly fast son down block in robe and slippers. He laughs
 with absolute glee.
 
 (51) Retrieve son. Bring in house. Find wife asleep in our bed, snuggled
 with infant.
 
 (52) Son wishes to snuggle with comatose mommy and refuses to enter his
 own bed.
 
 (53) Son, daughter, and wife all asleep in your bed.
 
 (54) Pull out pillow and blanket and lie down on the couch.
 
 (55) Turn on late news in progress.
 
 (56) Think about sex for 6.4 seconds.
 
 (57) Get up, walk to bathroom, step on plate half-filled with pasta and
 sauce on way.
 
 (58) Clean off feet and get lotion, tissue.
 
 (59) Masturbate with image of news reader in mind.
 
 (60) Clean up and fall asleep on couch.
 
 (61) Repeat as needed.