Girl Talk Thursdays - Porn

I'm not much of what you'd call a joiner, but when Mommy Melee tweeted yesterday about porn being the topic of this week's Girl Talk Thursday, I couldn't wait to write my post.

Porn and me, we've got some issues. I think it's one of the most wonderful things in the world. I also think it holds the power to destroy lives. Like many things in life, it's all about how you use it.

I think porn can save lives. It may not be able to save you from a burning building, but it can keep you from going home with a prostitute or that sketchy looking man or woman at the end of the bar that you would never look at twice in the daylight. Horny people do stupid things. They have unprotected sex with strangers. They have affairs with the boss's spouse. Their genitals rule their lives.

Enter porn. Porn, and the things you may be doing while you watch it, take the edge off. It may not be fulfilling as real live sex, but it gets the job done. It allows the blood to flow back to your brain, where you need it to make rational choices.

I think porn can make a good sex life great. I firmly believe that couples who watch porn together have better sex lives and greater intimacy. Sex usually becomes routine if you're married or in a long term relationship. You know what works, you do this, then this, then that, orgasm and then it's over. Hot, right? You can learn things from porn. New moves are always important. New fantasies you can enact with your partner spice things up. It opens the door for a constructive conversation about your fantasies, fetishes, likes and dislikes. Even watching porn together silently can make a huge impact in the sex you have later that evening. If nothing else, it can help get the partner who may not be in the mood ready to go.

Porn can take the pressure off. I don't mean the pressure as in the horniness. I've already mentioned that. I mean the pressure on the partner than can't have sex or just really doesn't want to. Right after childbirth, and especially after a c-section a woman shouldn't being having sex. As opposed to hounding the mother of your child about when you can resume sex, you can watch porn. You're taken care of and poor mom doesn't feel guilty about not fulfilling your whiny man needs.

Porn can be the lazy person's choice. Porn is easy. It's right there, all the time, ready to go. It doesn't play hard to get, or bitch about the garbage you didn't take out, or take an hour of foreplay before it's ready. It wants you now. This is both a good and a bad thing. When you're ready, it's there. That's a good thing. When you use it and ignore your partner's needs because it's easier, that's a bad thing. If you have a partner who is ready, willing and able, but don't feel like having sex because you already watched an hour of porn earlier in the day, something's wrong. It's not porn's fault, it's yours.

Porn can destroy lives. I'm not talking about horrible, illegal porn like kiddie porn or snuff films. I'm talking about your everyday, hardcore porn. Studies have shown that the more someone watches porn, the less attractive they find their partner. That can't be good for your relationship. Using porn as a sexual aid to enhance your sex life is wonderful, but porn for the sake of porn can be bad. Watching hours of porn a day, spending money you don't have on porn and ignoring real like relationships because of porn are signs of a problem. The porn itself isn't bad, just the way you're using it is.

Porn isn't good or evil. It's just porn. People make porn what it is by how they use it and how it effects both them and others. I'm all for porn in the appropriate situation.

Crying it Out

Some are very pro Crying it Out and some are vehemently opposed to it. I am neither.

The Hellion slept through the night, on her own, before she was a month old. She has ever since.

The Monster Toddler started sleeping through the night at 2 weeks, but forgot how to once teething began around 4 months. She was up for hours every night for a month before I researched the Ferber Method. Once implemented, it took 6 days for her to sleep through the night again without a problem. She finally cut the tooth 3 weeks later and other than a little whining at night that sometimes needed Orajel, sleeping and teething were no longer a problem.

My Demon Baby was always been extremely different than her two older sisters. The husband and I waited patiently and then not so patiently for her to finally sleep through just one night. Months and months past and that night never came. Finally I realized that she wasn't going to do it anytime soon if I didn't teach her.

We waited until the Husband had 5 days in a row off and started the CIO process. She cried on and off for 50 minutes, fell asleep and woke 10 hours later. The second night took 50 minutes of crying and then she slept for 12 hours. The third night she cried for 5 minutes, fell asleep, woke 4 hours later, cried for 20 minutes and then was asleep for another 7 hours. The fourth night she cried for 5 minutes and then slept for 11 hours. And on the fifth night, she didn't cry and slept for 10 hours. Every night since then, there has been no more than a brief whine and then a minimum of 10 hours of sleep.

Our version of CIO is simple. The baby goes into the bassinet with her pacifier and we leave the room. We check 5 minutes later for crying. If there is crying, one of us will go in, calm her down, and replace the pacifier. We never take her out of the bassinet unless she needs to be reswaddled or smells as if her diaper is dirty. Once calm we leave the room and return 10 minutes later. We repeat this at 15, 20, and 25 minutes. If she had ever still been crying at 25 minutes, we would have remained at 25 minutes for the rest of the night. Once the crying had stopped, the monitor was left on and if she started crying again, we started again at 5 minutes, working our way up.

I metion all of this because I had a friend visit with her 2 kids. She was shocked to find that all 3 of my children slept through the night every night except for when they are sick. Her 4 year old still doesn't sleep through the night. I would have never survived. She said she had never tried CIO because the kids would keep her husband up all night when he had to work in the morning. She had no idea that if your child was old enough to sleep through the night that it would only take a few days. She had no idea that the child didn't scream for hours and hours. She had no idea that she was supposed to check on her child.

CIO is not for everyone and definately not for newborns, but it worked for us. If your child isn't sleeping through the night at 6 months, a year, or heaven forbid, 4 years old, perhaps it's something you might want to try. Apparently, not all children sleep through the night on their own eventually.

What Family Means to Me

In reply to my last post an anonymous commenter said "your house sure doesn't very fun or very much like a family." I assume this was supposed to say that we didn't *sound* much like a family.

Normally, I get pissed at judgmental folks and them immediately get over it. I'm just that type of gal. I have no time to worry about what an anonymous stranger thinks of me. I've got enough people who have the decency not to like me to my face to deal with, thank you. But, for some reason, this phrase has bothered me all week.

Not knowing what the hell her concept of family is, I have no way of knowing if we fit her classification of family. I do know that we fit my definition of family. My definition is pretty basic: we are a group of people who are related by blood or law that love, support, and take care of each other.

I do not define family as parents who are slaves to their children. You don't get everything you want, no matter how old you are. If we did, the kids would live at Disney World, I would be on a world cruise and the husband would be having a threesome. That is not family. Giving up all I want for the "betterment" of my children isn't family either. It's a ticket to the asylum.

My children get to see my parents everyday. They get to see the husband's parents at least twice a month. They saw my grandfather every week until his death. They see the husband's grandmother about once a month. The Hellion gets to see her cousin (who's 11) almost every day. We see our entire extended families at least every other month. Being able to spend that much time together is what makes us a family.

We have an in-ground pool with a jacuzzi and a huge slide. We have a separate baby pool and a large backyard to play in. Why would the kids want to play anywhere else? Friends and family come here. It works for us. Having a large area to play without having to trek all over town makes life easier. It also makes us closer as a family.

We take the kids to restaurants and to the boardwalk. The Hellion goes out to the movies constantly with her father. She goes to Disney every year with my dad, who will be taking the others once they are potty trained. She got to know my grandfather better than I did by the time he died because of all the trips they took together. We do things together away from home. Not every day, but for special occasions. It makes these times more special because they are only occasional.

Both my family and the husband's family watch the kids when we want to go out alone. We get a break, they get to see the kids and the kids get new victims to terrorize. Everyone wins.

Even if our families were far away, if we didn't live where we do, if we couldn't afford to go where we do, if we had no one else to help us, we would still be a family. We love one another. We support each other in everything that we do. We take care of each other when someone needs taking care of. We'll fight you to the death if you attack one of us. A family isn't always fun. Sometimes it's duty, or inconvenience or disappointment. But if it's truly a family, it's always there no matter how much you suck.

That's my definition of family. Am I wrong?

Being a bad parent is a good thing? Sweet.

For my entire 9 years of parenting, I'm figured I was a sucky parent. A bad parent, if you will.

My children are fed, clothed, bathed and loved. They are played with, hugged, taught and scolded, if the need arises. They have all of their needs met, as I did when I was a child. Then why, oh why, would I torment myself with thoughts of being inadequate?

A.) My mother
B.) Other parents

My mother raised me the way I raise my children. I had everything I needed. I grew up into a relatively sane adult. My mother managed to keep a social life, one that is still more exciting than mine. Yet, She is quick to point out that I don't do what the other parents do. I don't give my children everything they want (because apparently you should give a child whatever they desire), because I don't hover and know what every child is doing every waking moment, and because I don't cave just because my kids are having hellish screaming tantrums.

As more of my friends have kids, they along with many others, look at me like I don't deserve to have the children I do. How could I not want to take my child to every kids birthday party they are invited to? How could I not have them in different classes and lessons and clubs every single day? How do I not remember the exact day they started rolling over, smiling, talking, etc.?

And while I've figured I sucked, I kept doing thing my way, because they worked. For all of us. My kids get what they need from me. They want some big expensive toy? Go ask grandma. I never got big expensive toys when I was younger and I survived. Plus, for the longest time I could barely afford the smallest birthday gifts for my kids. So yeah, I don't buy my kids cell phones or ipods or computers or digital cameras. But I let them keep the ones my parents get them.

I don't hover. I pay very close attention by the pool or in a parking lot, but not at home. Why? Because, if they get hurt, I'm pretty sure I'll hear it. Or they'll find me. I'm at most in the next room. I was allowed to go around the block alone at 7, so the next room shouldn't really matter. I don't do their homework just so they pass. If they fail, maybe they should have. Maybe they'll try harder next time. I finished school, it's their turn. Their school is their turf, I don't get involved unless it's for a mandatory parent teacher conference. I'm just not class mother/school trip chaperone material. I'd probably just embarrass them anyway.

If my kid is screaming and crying over not wanting to clean their room or wanting a lollipop for breakfast, I ignore them. Yes, It would be easier to just give them what they want, but those crafty little suckers immediately learn that screaming gets them what they want. I'm not having it. Go to your room, scream quietly so I don't have to hear it, and come back when your calm and whatever you were supposed to do is done.

Kids birthday parties suck. I don't throw them because I don't want to deal with you or your kid. I have family parties. Because of that, I don't send my kids to your kids parties. I sent the Hellion to a party once. It was at a bowling alley at 11am on a Saturday. I left my kid to bowl and told her where I would be if she needed me - at the alley bar. My friend, the husband and myself sat there drinking beer, hoping the party would be over soon. I was surprised we were the only ones there. Not even a father strayed in to grab a quick drink. Ohh, the looks I got from the other parents. Now if the Hellion wants to go to parties, her father takes her.

My kids don't do extra-curriculars. I never did. I wasn't allowed to. They took up too much time, my mother told me. I was disappointed then, but I totally get it now. The Hellion begged to be allowed to do cheerleading. We made the mistake of letting her. Twice a week practice plus a weekly game. And the mothers. Oh the mothers. Cheerleading mothers are a nightmare (sorry, but you are). We all, including the Hellion, lacked the appropriate spirit and quite the team. The Hellion's father has taken her to karate, boxing, gymnastics and probably a few other things that have all had the same result. Her quitting. Why bother? They can join something at school when they are old enough and take the late bus home, if they so desire.

And I, god-forbid, don't keep baby books. Who has the time to jot down every tiny accomplishment their child makes? Not me. I keep photo albums for each of the children. It's got dates thanks to the digital camera. I think pictures are better anyway. When I die, am I really going to be judged by whether I remember when my 2nd child cut her 1st tooth? I hope not, or to hell I go.

I need a social life. I like going out to bars and getting hammered. And if I do it while my children are with a babysitter overnight, then who am I hurting? My dignity? Sometimes. My liver? Probably. My kids? Never.

My point? I love my kids and I do right by them. But somehow through out the years, I've been bludgeoned to near-death by my lack of correct parenting etiquette. Parents like myself are finally starting to come forward and out themselves. I thank them in all their "bad" parenting glory because it makes me realize doing it my way isn't doing it wrong.

And if the other mothers don't like it, they can suck it.

I, um, like babies

I was complaining, as I always do, about how the Demon Baby doesn't sleep. The husband replies, "Well, maybe you'll get lucky and the next one will sleep better."

Um, what? He realizes what he said and immediately stammers "I mean, if we decided to have another one. Which you know, we aren't. Cause you know, I'll go get a vasectomy any time you want. Um?"

I tell him to breathe. I haven't decided what I want to do yet. I'm pretty much 50% for another baby and 50% against having another one. But, of course, we'll ended up doing whatever I decide, so he needn't worry about it.

He wants to know my reasons for not having another child first. That's easy - I suck at pregnancy, c-section recovery is worse than what I imagine hell to be, plus the boob pain and the ungodly peeing pain that lasts forever, I miss sleep, kids cost money and I hope to get a real grown up job and something that resembles a sliver of a social life.

Then he wants to know why I want another child. I, um, like babies, and naming them is fun, and they're all small and cute and smell good and other really important stuff. Can I make an argument or what? I go one to explain that wanting children, for me at least, is a purely hormonal, instinct driven need and when it hits, there's no real denying it. He seemed to understand, or at least pretended to. I finished with - If we have another one, I could get my tubes tied and you wouldn't have to get the vasectomy. And maybe it would even be a boy. That argument he seemed to have no problem understanding.

Whatever, he started it.

Missed the Hellion's Birthday

Finally remembered what last week's post was supposed to be about. The Hellion turned 9. Of course that makes me feel old, but that wasn't what the post was going to be about.

The Hellion turned 9 on a Wednesday. Her father has her Tuesdays to Thursdays. Of course, we had a party for her the weekend before. We had already celebrated with her and given her her gift. There was no reason for her not to be with her father on her birthday, but it just kind of felt wrong. Like, I gave birth to her so she should be with me on her birthday, not him. His schedule changes every year or so, so this was actually the first year she wasn't with me.

As much as it was the right thing for me not to have stayed with the Hellion's father, it did make me realize that not being a cohesive parenting unit causes at least one of the parents to miss out on different events in their child's life.

It may seem strange to be realizing this 9 years in, but I've been lucky. It's never happened before. I've always been the one who got to do everything with her. Not because I made it that way, but because that's just how it ended up. Because I live in a very self-involved world, I just assumed it was like that for all moms in my position. Apparently not.

Just yet another reason to do as much as I can to attempt to make it work with the husband. I'm quite sure it wouldn't take 9 years before I missed something with the Monster Toddler or the Demon Baby. The husband seems like he would be the type of guy to insure I missed whatever he could manage if we got a divorce.

Maybe I dreamed I had a plan

I had a plan. Or at least I think I had a plan. Or maybe it was a dream. Maybe I dreamed I had a plan. Anyway you look at it, at one point in my life I had a topic I very much wanted to write about here this week. I no longer remember aforementioned topic. I'm not very forgetful and have a tendency to write down almost anything that comes to me. I am a list maker. I once even made a list of my lists when I trying to plan my wedding. Sure, you may have made lists, but did you make lists of lists? I didn't think so. So, I can only blame this complete mental blank on my brain being completely fried.

Demon Baby still isn't sleeping through the night. She had been waking up at least 4 times a night up until last night, when she only woke up once. Between sleeping 4 hours a night in 20 minute increments, dieting and therefore thinking about all the food I want and can't have, and going to the gym which people claim gives them energy, but seems to totally drain me, I'm a little bit less than my best at the moment. So the only think I can seem to focus on is Twitter.

As you may have noticed from my last post, I'm on Twitter now. I can stalk my favorite celebrities and my favorite bloggers all in one place, in real time. It's catnip to the voyeur in me. I can also say whatever's on my mind at any moment to the tens of people who follow me. That's a little something for the exhibitionist in me. To be honest, I wasn't going to join. I didn't think I needed yet another place on the computer to waste the time that I should be using to take care of the kids or clean the house. Turns out, it's bizarrely addicting.