Along with the responsibilities we working women face running our own businesses, taking care of our children, overseeing our households, comes a sobering, unfortunate reality: we can’t always pick and choose the best times to have sex. 

Whether we’re looking to canoodle with our significant other, or simply wanting to let loose by our lonesome, the fact is, having sex really isn’t easy with kids around . . . 

Case in point - the other night while in the midst of some much-needed blissful rapture with my honey, we were interrupted by my 11 year old whose fervent taps on the door were soon followed by cries and shouts of concern and dismay.  

“Mama are you okay?  Is everything alright?”

Thankfully my honey was able to have a more present response to this buzz kill as I lay quietly suppressing giggles while trying to catch my breath.

“Everything is fine, go back to bed.”  

To which my daughter replied: “My mommy sounds really hurt.  I’m so worried.  Is she sick?”  

This from my daughter who thinks a half-full glass of water on the kitchen counter could potentially drown her.  

If I wasn’t laughing so hard I probably would have cried, because sadly, we working moms can’t, with any kind of abandon, wild or otherwise, hit the pause button on what is the usual endless series of obligations, concerns and distractions when we are balancing work and children.

Because of the research I am doing on my hotly anticipated (at least in my mind) first book, I have been reliving past sexual experiences as a way to chart my growth and progress as an empowered spiritually sexy woman.  

Due to my upbringing and various other factors, which you will soon read about, my love life has alternately involved marriage -- yes girls, four of them in case you missed that fact in previous blogs -- and some wild and not so wild dalliances sometimes thanks to my friends at J-Date and other times thanks to my winning personality or just sheer desperation.  

To say that we can take one step forward and two steps back isn’t an exaggeration.  I’m thinking of a time in the not too distant past where I volunteered to host a visiting musician for a concert he and I were scheduled to perform in Pittsburgh, where I was living at the time.

It was in the aftermath of my worst marriage and I was in my “rebuilding” phase when I picked up a five-foot-nothing shaved headed oud player from Israel (via NYC).  The flirtation had been building from the time we first started talking and emailing.  By the time I met him at the airport, there was little doubt he was going to be playing more than his stringed instrument.  

Ours was a mutual seduction and it was one of the first times that I had gotten properly shtupped since giving birth to my second child and going through my third divorce.

For those who read the blog about my son’s birth you know this was a huge deal for me.  Less than two years earlier, I didn’t know if I was going to be alive.   

Now, with two healthy kids and a just completed divorce, what I did know was that I needed to test the waters again and for me, this was as frightening as it was intriguing.

The night of the consummation I had returned from the airport, fed, bathed and bedded the children before hauling ass to the basement where my house guest was waiting for me - and it wasn’t to rehearse.  

Before I even knew what was happening, he sat me on top of him, reverse cowgirl position.  I was happy that he couldn’t see my face because all I could think was I’m too heavy, how is this comfortable for him?  

And, how could I ever explain this to the kids if they wake up and find us?

There you have it.  Even in my wild and open minded attempt to take back the night of my sexuality, all I could do was worry about things that had less to do with my happiness and more to do with my preoccupation with being perfect as a lover and a mother.

I’m so happy to report that years later I am in a relationship with my soulmate who thinks I’m more beautiful and sexier than I’ve ever been at any time in my life.  

He’s right.  

And the best part is that I know it and I’m comfortable in my own skin - even the C-section overhang part that might be with me until the day I die - unless of course we can someday afford the surgery I sometimes dream of along with rivers of dark chocolate, unicorns and orchards full of Raisinette trees. 

I may not be a perfect mother, or a perfect partner (yet), nonetheless everyday is an opportunity to learn, to grow, to put ourselves out there in ways that don’t always fall within our comfort zone, but so what?  

Because of my experiences, and my memories, I’m comfortable saying to you as I remind myself:

Be reckless, be daring, be bold.  Try new things.  Don’t judge.  Don’t worry if you’re a little or even a lot over your ideal weight... who cares.   You are sexy, worth loving, worth fighting over and worth every bit of every good thing that comes your way.  You can sweat the small stuff if you really want to, but you don’t have to.  

The only thing you might want to do is have sex quietly... so as not to wake the little ones.

[Photo credit: lilsugar.com]