We all know what I mean when I say “mommy mode” right? Being in “mommy mode” is sometimes a different persona than who we feel we are as a person or as a woman. Today’s guest talks about mommy mode and some of her “angrivations” directed at her husband. Enjoy!
If there was ever a bone to pick with my husband, it would be about his eternal boner.
In every other aspect, he is a wonderful husband. A very loving and supportive husband. In fact, my husband is, without a doubt, my best friend. But he seems to think I double as an adult toy – my boobs, my ass, my hips, they are there for the grabbing…or, groping… or, caressing. His touchy feely hands somehow manage to find their way to my crown jewels and treasure cove without fail every time.
This drives me crazy and angrivates the Hell out of me!
Let me start by explaining a few things first. My husband and I have been married for nine years now. He currently works sixty five hours a week in a cold-drawn steel facility and I am a stay-at-home mom to our four children. We have no reliable help outside the home from family or friends, and we live on a budget tighter than a felon’s asshole who is kiestering drugs into prison. I am running on a level of physical and mental exhaustion so low, a solid night’s sleep doesn’t even help anymore and my husband is not far behind me. Due to his job schedule, I can be considered a married single mother. Everything lies on me; there is no back up for the daily challenges parenting four children brings to the table.
I am both good cop and bad cop. With merely one day off a week, my husband only has so many hours to spend quality time having fun with our kids and let his body rest, because the strenuous labor his job requires is taxing on him. This isn’t how we envisioned our version of happily-ever-after to go, but this is the life we built together, regardless. We have to live with what we’ve got.
After all this time together, I can say I’m more in love with, and more attracted to, my husband than ever before. I think I can safely say the same for him, too. It is a tad bit obvious when he’s attached to me more than the whiniest of our kids when he is home. Not in a cuddly sort of way, either – in the, hug me from behind to grab a tit or lay down next to me to rub my ass, kind of way. Even when I am busy taking care of chores or doing something with the kids, he has no reservations about playfully pinching a nipple or slapping my ass. He always has something to say about my sexiness turning him on and needing me to satisfy his urges, as if I am clearly not standing there washing dishes with dinner on the stove and children at the table doing homework.
“Oh, honey, you’re ripe for the picking today, daddy needs to taste his peach.”
“My girls are so luscious. I need to see them right now. Lift your shirt up, quickly, before the kids come in here.”
“That ass is so hot, it makes me want to take you upstairs and bend you over…”
“I can’t help it, babe. You’re so beautiful and I’m always turned on by you. You need to give it up already.”
While it is deeply flattering to know I make him feel like he is still sixteen, I do not like my personal space being invaded by, yet, another human being. There are four children who do enough of that as it is. My days are tiresome and endless, with to-do lists and last minute everythings spewing out of my kids orifices faster than a simultaneous snot bubble/puke/diarrhea blowout. My name has been changed to Mom, superseding any past identity I had with my given name. The name from my childless, sexy, young, and carefree days no longer exists.
Mom. It is such an un-sexy word to have morphed my entire persona. There is no sex appeal left to be found in the unshowered, baby food-stained, oversized tee, paint-splattered, cropped sweatpants, and granny panties which are my signature style, now.
The husband’s horny playfulness is…well, a bit on the immature side, too. We are both well into our thirties; I do not want to relive my high school lust relationships every time my husband is home. I want to be treated like a woman, not like the star of Girls Gone Wild. Being a stay at home mom is the epitome of adulthood. My job is responsibility after responsibility on top of more responsibility. Even when I am rolling around on the floor playing with my children, having fun and laughing until our bellies ache, I am dead serious in the back of my head. Always ready to take charge, divert a crisis, play referee, save the day, and keep the world from ending.
Having someone constantly trying to turn me on… someone who is actually free from his family role and able to decompress from the physical and mental exhaustion his job entails…is angrivating (think angry + aggravate) to the nth degree! If only he realized, he would feel the same way if I showed up at his job and followed him around all day trying to cure my boredom with incessant sexual innuendos.
Whether or not it is being done intentionally, the constant arousal and expressed desire for my body insinuates a demand for sex, adding pressure to my already overwhelming stress load. I am drowning within my all-consuming role as Mom, making it hard to fathom enjoying sexual intercourse until the kids are asleep and I can detach myself from the job. I fear having to reject my husband every time he comes near me now, because it pains me so much to do so. I do not like cringing at the swipe of his finger across my nipple or his hands running down my hips towards my rear. I hate not being able to respond to my husband as I once did, instinctively, but I cannot any longer. It is impossible, really. My body gets touched by clumsy, uncoordinated, and curious little hands all day long, as they climb over, on top, and around me like a human jungle gym, so it has gone into something called Mommy Mode. This temporarily deactivates my pleasure receptors and turns off my libido. As long as my platter is full because there are children in need of caring for, and there is no one else to help take a load off, I cannot switch off Mommy Mode and my husband’s touch will piss me off.
Besides all that, the sexist misogyny of my husband’s immature flirting crosses boundaries which our children are unable to distinguish for themselves, between tactful and degrading. No matter how subtle my husband thinks he is being with his teasing caresses, racy remarks, and rump grinding (during what should be a simple, comforting, hug), his subliminal messaging is coming across loud and clear. With our eldest on the verge of his teenage years, it is important to model a respectful, healthy relationship. One which does not objectify women.
I do not want my sons or my daughters to think women are sexual objects for someone else to possess or own. Everywhere else, they are bombarded with misguided examples of love, sex, and the false pretenses of a healthy relationship. Entertainment and social medias cram impressionable minds full of anti-feminist, gender role stereotyping, and perverse displays of sexual deviancy the minute they switch their screens on. Video games depict strip clubs and prostitutes, virtual reality simulations allow people to recreate their whole entity- the more provocative the better, and, apps designed for casual sex hookups with locals are offered free for anyone who stumbles into the app stores.
When the society we are raising our child in is so obsessed with sex, the last thing this mother wants is to encourage the very thing she hopes this generation changes – the exploitation of women and stereotyping of beauty standards. If my husband cannot respect my boundaries and accept the fact the roles we have volunteered for in this chapter of our marriage, does not allow for the carefree, nefarious tenue to keep the passion burning. There are more creative, and mature, approaches he could be taking; and he knows it.
There is a time and a place for everything in all aspects of life. There is, however, no time or place for humping my leg and honking my breasts when I’m busy being that Mom lady. I should be able to bend over and pick up some stray toys without worrying I’m going to get my booty slapped and asked for a quickie. I should be able to cook dinner without getting hickies all over my neck as he whines about how bad he wants me. I should certainly be able to find my husband waiting until after the kids are in bed, to woo me into the bedroom and fulfill his – and my, sexual desires. I should not be, when I am in Mom Mode, my husband’s built in sex toy.
If my husband would just realize doing the dinner dishes and folding the overflowing laundry are two of the things he could do with his boredom to turn me on… what a perfect marriage this would be! Alas, though, here I am instead, with a bone to pick about my husband’s eternal boner and his hands that can’t seem to keep to himself.
Kristina Hammer is a writer by nature, poet by heart, and blogger by nurture on a journey to insanity and beyond. With four kids, she’s got plenty to be angrivated about and lays it all out in her blog, The Angrivated Mom. She’s been featured on The Good Men Project, Sammiches & Psych Meds, and Mamalode, among others. Follow her on her blog, The Angrivated Mom or on Facebook and Twitter for more shenanigans.
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