Excerpt for Caught in the Act

With three kids in the house, a love life is darn near impossible.  The one and only time our son caught my husband and I in a clench, he gagged so hard I thought he’d swallowed his gum and was choking to death. Since then the only lip action I get is when one of the kids talks back.
All of us have different schedules. Since we have a child in each school one in elementary, one in junior high and one in high school all three kids have different activities they attend—simultaneously of course. With only two cars in the family and two responsible adults acting as cabbies and spectators, we don’t even get to have a quiet conversation in the car, unless you count cell phone calls to discuss what fast food we can pick up for dinner on the way home.
My children are healthy, happy, well adapted kids and they each have a life. But Jimmy, my husband, and I have none. In fact, parenthood has pretty much become, to borrow a phrase from my thirteen year old, a time suck.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love my children. If I had to throw myself between them and a moving car, I’d do it. I carried them for nine months, and suffered through long, slow, painful labors to bring them into the world. I have a lot invested in these three, emotionally, physically, and financially. Certainly too much to give them away. But of late I’ve begun to wonder when this hamster wheel is going to stop so I might eventually get off.  Pun intended.
Yes, I’m talking about sex.  They say it’s like riding a bicycle and once you learn how, you never forget. But I have to tell you, the memories have grown p-r-e-t-t-y cloudy. We’re talking sand storm in the desert, a fog bank across a pacific coast bay, the ash cloud following a volcanic eruption cloudy.
My hubby and I have become so obsessed with doing for the kids, that we’ve forgotten about doing each other. After eight hours at work, four hours at whatever function the kids have and all the other responsibilities of a household, we both seem to tumble into bed and die.
So, I’ve made a decision. It’s Thursday, and technically a school night, but this gal is tired of waiting her turn. A turn that never comes. Tonight the kids are going to a movie and hubby and I are going to have an evening at home. Alone. A romantic evening.  Well not an evening. But at least two hours. That should be long enough. I think. How long does it take? Gee I can’t remember.
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