My lovely readers, for the last few weeks, we have broached heavy subjects and I feel the need for some levity. At the risk of TMI and in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, I bring you a story from my gypsy love life, with the sincere hope that you’ll spit your coffee onto your computer screen while you read it. (Also, I find the above photograph to be absurd. Well dressed, look-each-other-in-the-eyes, romance in the woods? Whatever.)
Barry and I have made three drastic moves in the 24 years that we have been married and each one of them has taken some creativity to accomplish. We have downsized, squished into smaller temporary spaces, stayed with friends and family and even lived in a camper to make those moves happen. (Here’s a huge shout out to every single loved one who has given us a place to land, we could not do our crazy dreams without your help. Thank you!)
During one of our transitional periods, we stayed with my parents in Alabama for about five months while we saved money for a house in Colorado. My parents were so gracious to make space for our (then) 3 kiddos, ages 6, 4 and 1. There weren’t actually enough beds for all of us, but we are gypsies so we made it work. The four year old was on the floor and the 1 year old slept in a play pen. The 6 year old and I would take the two available twin beds. Barry took the couch in the living room. We are super grateful, flexible, improviser type folks and we were gonna make this work.
There was just one aspect of this scenario that we could not figure out. You guessed it -whoopee, hanky panky, doing it. In this whole “Little House On The Prairie” sleeping arrangement, there was no romance to be had. I’m not sure just how couples got it on while whole families still slept (and in some cultures still do) in the same room. For me, if the wind is blowing too hard, or Trump’s been Tweeting or I didn’t find what I was looking for at the grocery store, I’m like, “Yeah babe, I just caaaaaaan’t tonight…” So, stepping around sleeping children and sneaking Barry into a twin bed with me to get a little action while my babies snoozed nearby was never ever gonna happen. (You’re welcome, babies.)
But we all know what happens to virile, young, committed lovers when they go too long without making whoopee. They shrivel up like raisins on the inside, that’s what. Where they used to be functioning and contributing members of society with ideas and communication skills; prolonged periods of not doing it turns them into grouchy, over-sensitive, disconnected, embittered, vindictive, muttering, murderous, pre-criminals.
This was starting to happen to Barry and I and we knew we were going to have to get creative before we knocked over a liquor store or something. We were keeping our eyes open for any opportunity to get it on and one fine day, the heavens shone down on the bathroom door. My Dad was at work, my Mom was out of the country and all three kids miraculously laid down for a nap at exactly the same time…and fell asleep. We knew we had to act fast-which wouldn’t be a problem anyhow. We whispered the hallelujah chorus under our breath while we crept quietly into the bathroom. We turned off the lights so no the kids wouldn’t know we were in there if they happened to wake up. Glory! We were well into offsetting our murderous rage when we heard this little knock on the door and froze like statues. I motioned to Barry to get behind the shower curtain and slowly opened the door just a crack to see who was there. I saw the bed-headed child (who will remain unnamed for their own protection) peering up at me and I said, “What do you need, honey?”
The child then said, “Mama are you scared?” (What? What a weird question…)
“What do you mean am I scared, honey?”
“You were making noises like you were scared.” (Ohhhhhh…think fast, think fast…)
“Uhhhh, yes….I was scared…because….the lights were off! I am going to turn them on now. Go get back in your bed, k? Mommy will be out in a minute.”
For some providential reason, this explanation satisfied my child’s growing concern for my great state of fear and off they shuffled back to their bed. When I closed the door again the shower curtain was shaking because Barry was trying so hard not to bust a gut laughing at the interaction I had just fielded. He whispered some congrats to me on my quick comeback and the adventures drew to a close.
I relayed this gypsy love story to my friend Beth who immediately dubbed Barry, “Scary Barry”, which is a term I continue to use for him, when the moment calls for it.
To all of you creative couples who have to try to keep your love alive while sharing a bed with your nursing baby, getting up 45 times a night with a teething toddler, squishing into your parents’ extra room or living in a camper, I raise a glass to you. You’re taking one for the team and you’re going to need superior improvisational skills to keep your sanity operational. We can either laugh or cry about our lovemaking deficits and I choose to laugh. I give you the Flight Of The Conchords, “Business Time” as an anthem of solidarity out there for everybody with goals in this department. Here’s to you! You can do it! As Scary Barry and Amy Grant like to say, “Love will find a way.”
P.S. I greatly anticipate your stories of being caught by your children that you will send to gypsythugmom@gmail.com so that I too can spit my coffee out this morning.
So, we used to have this little crystal bed side table that we turned on for those times when we needed to keep the marriage bed undefiled, as it were… And one night, we heard the oldest two, who were middle schoolers at that time, coming up the stairs. And the oldest says, “If you see that glow coming out from under the door, DO NOT GO IN THERE!” The man and I nearly died in hysterical laughter. Evidently, we had been discovered “in the act”! We scarred a child for life without realizing and she was trying to save others her horrible fate.
Bahaaaa! That’s why we save for college/therapy.:)
We were golden with kids all asleep at the same time and our very own bed empty of children (for once). So, we got down to business…finished our business…and heard a strange noise. Snoring sounds, we located, coming from the sleeping child under our marriage bed. We are guessing he thought it would be funny to jump out and surprise us but fell asleep before we even got to bed. (One can hope)
He has no memory of it. We checked in closets and under the bed for years afterward.
Woah, that is next level spy work! Ack!