Rbelle and I were talking a while back (after that sex post) about what would happen if we had sex with our husbands every night for a week. No, really. EVERY NIGHT FOR A WEEK. Would the world really be as rosy and cheery as the movies say? Or will the house be much more clean? Would Mr. Flinger (or Mr. Belle, respectively) be chipper with flushed cheeks? Would the birds sound louder?

We’re going to find out…..

Mr. Flinger and I have decided to see what happens should we.. Ahem.. “do it” a bakers week. That’s 8 times in 7 days. No kidding. I don’t think that’s happened since we were first married. .. wait.. if it even DID happen then.

So, I’ll update daily and changes I see. Oh, lord, is this TMI? No, it’s not. You can choose not to read. I won’t post ABOUT our.. ahem.. “act.” But I’ll let you know what is going on in the Flinger house as a scientist observes the daily mating rituals of two sleep deprived humans with a young baby.

So, here ya go:
Day #1 overview: So tired. Both. SO TIRED. Could go to sleep at 7pm. Baby goes to bed at 7pm. We get ready for bed. Until… After? So awake. SO EFFING AWAKE. And.. here I am. Blogging. Mr. Flinger? Also awake. We’re irritated.

Day #1 conclusion: failure: Both Mr. and Mrs. Flinger irriated and wide awake now.

Day #1 homework: For you… don’t you usually FALL ASLEEP AFTER? Should it not be RELAXING? ‘Cause I could clean the house top to bottom. Damn. Maybe I’ll do that.

Day #2: Much like day #1. He’s sleeping. I’m not. Doing Laundry. Blogging. Paying bills. *sigh* Note to Internet: NO NIGHT SEX. Not if you want to sleep. Ever. Also, my girl parts have not been training for this. AT ALL. The good news? He’s smiling more. So far so good.

Day #3- last night? Nadda. Damn, it IS more work than fun sometimes. I mean, we’re both “movers and shakers” now. He worked out (!!) and I cleaned and did bills (!!) but I have to wonder if we did that to avoid sex, ya know? Because y’all.. I’m not a young spring chicken anymore. My poor girlie parts. Two days in a row? Ouch. Mr Flinger said last night, “We’ll just do it twice tomorrow.” 8 times in 7 days? I think we’ll be pushing two or three times a day at the end if we’re going to make it.

On the other hand, we DID do bills and workout and clean. That says something.

Day #4: had to catch up. Made up for day #3. Mr. Flinger’s official take on the challenge? “Best idea ever.” Also, he says everyone needs to do this. Apparently, it’s going well.

Day #5. Seuss kindly pointed out that I didn’t put an update yet. I tellya, this sex thing has it’s ups and downs. (oh, get it? I made a funny!) I mean, we’re the same really. Tired as all hell. Grabby. (yes, “G"rabby. Not just crabby.) We had the biggets fight last night, not really a fighty fight, but a fight, about how unfair it is that “YOU” get to sleep while “I” take more shifts, bladdy bladdy, boring married-with-baby talk. The result? Not in the mood. Guess we’ll be pulling a double shift again to make up. Can I official say I’m ready for the challenge to be over? If I see a wanky again in the next month, it’ll be too soon.

Updated**
Day #6 and 7 (cause it aint happenin’ tonight either)
Alright. We’re old or something. This was a great idea to start out with and if any of you do it, you must (read: M-U-S-T) tell us how it goes. But we’re done. You know how you start a diet all gung ho (hehe.. I said ho) and then you couldn’t care less by day 3? Well, we made this to day 5. That’s pretty good, right? Oh, who am I kidding. We’re old and tired and have a teething baby. *sigh*

We’ve decided instead of a diet to make a lifestyle change. “Ain’t two times a month good ‘nuff for ya, baby?” he said. NO IT’S NOT. (Oh, but he was kidding) We’re aimimg for some regularity, something more tangable. Some sort of “sex life” that we could call it. Instead of .. what.. once a month? Maybe? (these were lean times, mind you. We had a BABY. There is no sex before, during, or after that. Not that you must be reminded of that fact.)

So, do let us know, for the betterment of life, how your challenge goes. Right here. I’ll put this post under “most popular posts,” since it is, and you can let us know what happens.

You might just get some flowers and breakfast made for you out of the deal.

Uh.. if you don’t read my Moms site, you might want to for a good laugh. Holy crap.

I showed her how to post a picture. GOOD LORD she’s OUTTA CONTROL! OOOhhh, Oma! She doesn’t do ANYTHING in little bits.

I remember things about myself pre-baby. Actually, I’m remembering things pre-marriage, pre-job, pre-“real world.” I’m remembering what it’s like to feel 21. I’m remembering what it’s like to be too free spirited, not be able to hold down a real job, not be able to stay in any location longer than 8 months, not be able to commit to a major, a man, a life. I’m remembering why I had to grow up.

I’m glad I did. Now, may I please go back?

I am very very very evil.

We want to go to Bellingham tomorrow. We decided late yesterday. How possible is that? With two dogs and a baby?

Not.

Apparently.

I don’t have my shit together. I don’t. I might look like I do? But I don’t. Hell, I don’t even think I look like I do. Let’s be honest.

I’m struggling with transition. The transition from working girl, career lady, working up the ladder to spitup queen, shit changer, mommy-extraordinaire. Any one else having this trouble?

Let’s face it. I don’t do the monthly updates. What kind of mommy blog doesn’t do the monthly update? Why, you ask? I suck, that’s why. I need to write some cute little love poem I could put in her baby book. Instead, I’d rather write this:

I noticed something while in Seattle last weekend. There is a huge, but subtle difference in what people wear. I didn’t realize that I was still hip. Even though Portland and Seattle are relatively close if you compare SC or Maryland, say, to here, there are still some very important differences between the landscape, the people, the traffic, the cost of living and what people wear.

It has been, officially, 27 hours, 15 minutes and 32 seconds since I had chocolate. I’m going pure, people. I’m going healthy. I’m going sugar free, processed free, food package free.

I’m going insane.