There’s a reason why sex among couples goes to hell after kids. Yeah, a lot of it is the kids, but it comes down to very practical things, starting with much more limited opportunities–and if you pair that with the problem of either spouse being tired or in a bad mood, then it’s obvious why it almost never happens.

Part of it is my problem with quality control, see. I would rather have no sex than crappy, tired, bad sex. I’ve been told bad sex is still better than no sex but I still have a hard time with this. Actually, I think my husband said that. Guys think like that, isn’t that funny? There’s something about a forced attempt to be intimate that reminds me of so many bad movies that I tend to avoid it even when I’m dying for a little sumpin’-sumpin’. But the biggest problem is we keep missing our “windows.”

Take this week for example: Thursday I was really in the gettin’ friendly mood, but the husband was not. He was exhausted from a 200-mile trip from work. Friday he was in the mood, but I was in a really bad mood. I don’t know why, I just woke up that way. I hate it when that happens. I felt mildly homicidal from the moment I arrived at consciousness. Yesterday was kind of neutral for both of us, but Bruce started getting wrapped up in bills and emails from angry students that he failed, and I got increasingly agitated with my computer, and then the twins took over an hour to settle down for bed and we were worn out. Tomorrow doesn’t look much better, and soon he’ll be leaving for the other coast for several weeks.

Arrrgh.

But the week was not a complete loss of penis-viewing. We went to a nude beach yesterday. Happened upon it, really. I suggested we go have a look at the Dinosaur Caves after we missed the Pismo exit, and it was kind of fun. Excluding the bit of worry about the twins and that little sheer drop into the rocky ocean—we held onto them like octopi over by one of the more scenic vistas—it was really nice, and then the twins kept repeating that they were bored and wanted to see “people.” They had seen a glimpse of peopled beach on our way in. So down we went to the nude beach. We didn’t go too far in since it was a bit of trouble to get there and neither of us was in any mood to get naked for strangers any more than we are for each other lately. Most of the nude people were far off on the other end and stayed there. Except for one guy. A tan, tattooed and rather muscular dude walked right by us to the entrance several times—once to take a leak, once to help his girlfriend navigate the rocks (presumably to take her own leak), and another to help her down and bring back firewood. Each and every time you got the sense that the guy sort of liked his parade of sorts, you know, the package parade. Some other girls that arrived after us tried to pretend not to notice the parade but it was impossible. They shuffled down the rocks giggling at each other. The twins were back farther from the water than I was, which maybe is a good thing, because I could hear “peenass! peenass!” over and over (that’s how they pronounce it).

So anyway, I got to see a penis yesterday. Yay for me.

We’ve been home from Orange County today for a week, and though I have recovered, my bank account has not. (Damn you, IKEA!). Anyway the girls have fantastic new twin beds (how ironic they really are called twin beds) and love them. Miss C digs them too and when she helped us put them down for a nap, she promptly fell asleep with her arm around Saige. It was very cute. This is, by the way, the 22 year-old girl that feels like a loser for still living at home and having no boyfriend, but I say HELL YEAH, screw boyfriends, the world needs more nice girls willing to snuggle with restless little toddlers. This was not me at 22. Even right now I don’t think I can say I am a “baby” or “toddler” person. I love my kids to death, but I’m still not crazy about babies and little kids, if that makes any sense. I think Miss C is a little more normal in this regard; I can totally see her having tons of kids. Recently I joked with the gym babysitter that I have to stay in the kids’ room with the girls so much that I should just get a job there, and she said oh my god you totally should, we need an emergency person to call–and then I sat there thinking about having to crawl my ass in there after one of those sleepless molar-teething nights with the girls, and dragging the girls with me, and dealing with eight other kids running around in addition to them, on maybe five hours of sleep and no food and not being able to even go to the bathroom. For like, $8 an hour or less, most likely. I would probably get fired the same afternoon for excessive cursing.

But back to Orange County–it went a lot better than I expected, at least after the first night. Bruce still had a final exam to give up here, so we didn’t leave the Central Coast until 8pm. Which means we didn’t get to my moms until almost midnight. The girls didn’t settle down to sleep until 2am, and I couldn’t fall asleep until 3am. The next day they were up at 7:30, as usual. You can imagine what all of us felt like. Our sleeping arrangement was kind of comical, too. Since Darcy has been out of a crib for some time now, she quickly adopted a “Death Before Pack N’ Play” attitude, which meant the only other place for her was the tiny, tiny couch bed (which we were supposed to be on). After much coercion Saige finally slept in her portable crib (none too happy that her sister was snoozing above in the bed with Daddy). So the scene was Saige in crib, Darcy and Daddy in bed, and mommy sleeping outside in the RV.

At least it was quiet. (The next night we switched).

I’m also, by the way, really thrilled that I did not run into any ex-boyfriends while I was in Orange County.

I bought a nice power supply there for the new computer I would like to build for myself. I almost wish I hadn’t, because now I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT, this damned dream machine I’d like to build with the expen$ive parts I can’t afford. My hand keeps mousing over to components websites, checking multi-core CPU prices and crap, and it’s a waste of time, I need to stop. But it just pains me to look at my beleaguered Sony, with it’s lame 240 watt PSU and the side ripped off because it’s overheating all the time and there’s no way to put a fan in to help. Then I started thinking about that blasted Mac Mini again. I might be able to afford that, but not any software for it. And the learning curve…ugh.

A little suggestion for those of you that read computer magazines (try not to laugh too hard, Ally). Don’t try their stupid, cute little recipes for “streamlining” or “making Windows easier!” on your computer. Anything that requires registry work is bad news. They are almost always wrong or omit some vital little piece of information from those of us who DON’T code all day and DON’T know the Windows registry editor from a Polish restaurant menu. They act like its easy and no big deal, but all they do is make you more familiar with Windows Restore.

Oh yeah, and I love how no matter how many times you check “Don’t remind me about this update again,” Windows will STILL continue to bug you about it. Every. Damned. Week. I’ll be dead and rotting in my grave and still getting reminders from Microsoft to install Service Pack 2.

The twin report: the last couple of weeks the girls have really changed, they have arrived at that point where it’s becoming really obvious they are closer to three than to two. Vocabulary is great; I get the sense that they can understand most of what I am saying now, and I am also getting the sense that we can (and should) stop dumbing our sentences down and should probably start making them grammatical again before we forget how to speak like adults.

E.g.: “No touch! No touch dog poo poo! Icky!”
vs.
“Please don’t try to pick up the dog crap okay? It’s really yucky and I don’t think it would make very good Play-doh.”

Sylvia is still a Play-doh whore, by the way. We’re going to have to have all the carpet in the house ripped up and replaced in a few years.

Anyway, the new games of the week, all initiated by Saige: climb onto the countertops and play mountaingoat, rip off all clothes and diapers and run around naked, try to dress self and refusing ALL assistance (complete with shoes on the wrong feet), and the odd sitting-on-potty-to-give-mama-false-hope game.

On the plus side, though Darcy appears to be having a relapse into molar-teethingland, for the most part the absence of teething has made my life a veritable paradise compared to the last two years. The first two years of their lives seems like it was almost nothing but screaming and crying. But things are looking up. I even–for the first time ever–went to my favorite Thai restaurant in SLO with them, with no help whatsoever. I NEVER would have attempted this even a month or two ago. But it went great! I still can’t believe it, that I was able to have dinner with a pair of toddlers. No clowning around or squirming or fussing or whining. It was a blessed miracle, I tell you.

And the pad thai was amazing.

New photos
The OC Photo Set

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Coolest lamp ever
iGuy – via Very Big Blog. I need this.
Branded Bunnies
Interesting rock art
Romance Novel Covers “reimagined” (thanks Teresa)
The Blurbomat Whore: Linksys BEFSR41 Router- Jon’s right. It’s a whore. My 3rd gen. one is great, but his tale of horror here is basically the same one I had with my old 1st generation one.
Guys Read