LEARNING AND HEALING THROUGH THE MOTHER-DAUGHTER RELATIONSHIP.

As women, our relationships with our mothers will be among the most important of our lifetimes. Good or bad, getting to know your mother, and who she is as a woman, will offer tremendous insight into who you are. The relationship starts in the womb and never ends. My love for my children, which I learned through observing my mother’s love for me, will continue for generations to come.  

I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on my relationship with my mom. As a therapist and an instructor, I learned early on the importance of dissecting, understanding, and feeling the emotions that come from looking at such significant relationships. My mother and I have been through life together and I have learned much along the way. For the most part, there are general phases in the evolution of the mother-daughter relationship. Each is complicated, holding much truth to learn and grow from.

Phase one- Mom the superhero. She can do all, be all, and is seemingly perfect while doing so. No matter what your relationship is like, good or bad, there have been times when she was and is a superhero. My mother left a very privileged life in India, casting off her role as a stay at home mom with domestic help, to working full time by day and attending paralegal school by night. She cooked every evening and cleaned each weekend, trying to manage all of our (my two siblings, myself, and my father) temperaments and life events. She gave us the most comfortable life she could so we wouldn’t ever feel sad about leaving our home and lifestyle in India. It wasn’t until long after this phase that I finally realized the magnitude of the sacrifices she made for our family.

Individuation is imperative for young women. It usually begins during the angst of our teenage years, continuing until we isolate our own identities, outside of our mothers. It’s often turbulent and rife with resentment. We aren’t eager to own our similarities during this phase.

Simultaneous to individuation, we experience the inevitable moment of realization that our moms are flawed. I recall feeling crushed the first time I comprehended that my mom was human and thus imperfect. I was older, yet still unable to process the feelings that came with the harshness of that reality. I then did what I think a lot of us are guilty of- laid blame. It’s easy to judge during this stage because it offers a sense of control. I was trying to find a balance between knowing that my mom is amazing and imperfect, at once. Eventually, I realized that we share many of the same issues. At some point during this stage, we may realize that our mothers are often right, especially when it comes to judging other people’s characters. We learn very quickly that she knows what she is talking about, yet we need to experience this in our own time and our own way so that we can have first-hand knowledge to pass down to the next generation. Who in turn will ignore all of our wisdom, too? This phase is confusing, to say the least, but the phase that follows, for some of us, brings a lot of clarity.

Most of us eventually have our own children. Talk about realizing very quickly how valuable Mom is! I remember the first night home from the hospital after having my son, sitting in a rocking chair, feeding him for the third time that evening. My thoughts were not on this tiny little miracle in front of me, or the lack of sleep, but instead with my mother, appreciating everything she had to go through with all of us. The years of not really getting it came together, the sacrifices she made were realized through my own. Finally, I understood why she had to be a superhero and why she was imperfect while trying.

There is a final phase, one that I am terrified to dwell on; the loss of my mother, my first love. I am still very blessed to have her here with me and hope that you are too. For those who have experienced that loss, all of my love to you. I can only imagine the devastation that comes with losing the one person (assuming you had a healthy relationship) you know will always put your well being first.

Whether your mom is with you or you meet elsewhere one day, it is never too late to learn more about her, and in doing so, yourself. No matter where your relationship is at this time, I encourage you to explore, dissect, understand, and feel all of the emotions that come from such a valuable dynamic.

Every mother has moments of breaking down or doubting herself, experiencing darkness and pulling through for her children. Her coping with vulnerabilities may not have been perfect, but she tried and still tries. You can learn so much about who you are through her. How do you cope with darkness? What are your vulnerabilities? How do you handle them? Do you consider vulnerability to be an imperfection? If you are truly honest with yourself you will find parallels, maybe even your reflection in the mirror of your own mother. Learning, accepting, and working through these parallels and reflections will offer empowerment and healing, making you a better version of yourself. Another catalyst for healing is forgiveness.

As flawed beings, our mothers will continue to make mistakes. Now, as a mother myself, the ease of parenting mistakes is ever so real. I am imperfect, and I hope my children grant me the forgiveness, grace, and understanding that I am learning to give my own mother. I encourage you to work toward forgiveness for your mother. How can we forgive ourselves if we cannot forgive those whom we are a part of? Forgiveness doesn’t have to mean forgetting, just letting go of the pain that may haunt your mind, body, and soul; no matter how small or how big the pain feels, releasing it offers healing. When we heal ourselves, we invariably heal future generations.

Those feelings of being unappreciated and overlooked are known intimately by your mother. I am guilty of doing this to my Mom even now. I try to take the time to thank her for all of the sacrifices she has made- past, present, and future. It’s easy to take for granted that she will always be there, forgetting to extend our constant love, appreciation, and kindness. There is another great lesson here for us as well- to be proud of everything we go through as mamas. We need to raise our heads high and say, “Yes! We did that, and that, and that, and that!” We often make ourselves invisible, putting our heads down and pushing through. We love our families, put forth so much effort, and would die for them. Even when we feel that we are doing everything wrong, we have to remind ourselves of that perseverance and unconditional love. So much is right. So, raise your glasses mamas and toast your mom and yourself, celebrating one another, the good, the bad, and everything in-between.

P.S. Mom, my love for you will transcend time, space, and everything else in-between. Thank you for teaching me, for being the best role model and superhero a girl could wish for

-Nayantara

HOW TO TEACH KIDS SELF-REGULATION WITHOUT SHAME.

A bit about today's guest blogger, Michelle Carlson:

Michelle lives in Los Angeles with her two girls, 8 and 11. Before becoming a Hand in Hand certified instructor in 2015, she worked for 12 years in public schools as a teacher and counselor. She also served as an adjunct professor, in the Department of Education, instructing in the teacher credentialing program, none of which prepared her to be a mom. After years of consequences, bribes, and star charts she found Hand in Hand parenting, created by Patty Wipfler. It reshaped her relationships with her daughters, and she credits it with changing her life.

She is passionate about helping others find their way through the murky business of being a connected parent. She loves leading groups and finds the dynamic transformative. Michelle also strongly believes that listening partnerships are the cornerstone to moving through difficulties. 

Michelle has helped herself and others make meaningful connections, work on sibling rivalry, and alleviate school problems. Aggression, fears, withdrawnness, and sleep are just some of the struggles she has shared and helped others rectify.

She holds a Master’s Degree in Education, speaks fluent Spanish, has been trained as a Council in Schools Facilitator and an ADL Trainer fighting against bias of all types on school campuses. Michelle offers phone, Skype, and in person consultations to parents and caregivers.

Check out Michelle's website: peaceandparentingla.com

There is much talk about teaching our kids to self-regulate, use impulse control, and learn to react calmly to adversity. This is all well and good but talking about it and wanting it to happen certainly don't ensure that our children will move through adverse situations with ease, merely because we want them to. We can tell them to calm down and take deep breaths, use their words, and make good choices but, again, will they magically internalize this way to "be" just because we’ve told them that's what’s best?

When we don't react with yelling, anger, threats, bribes, or consequences, which are not models of self-regulation, we often engage in the "talking to"- code words for "lecturing". We explain things ad nauseam with the expectation that our children will look at us with adoration while agreeing with how much sense we are making, thereby choosing to alter their behavior to be more acceptable. When has that ever happened? Do they appease us by agreeing and nodding because they are dying for the lecture to stop and counting the moments until they can move on and away from the shame? I guess it's a step better or perhaps just different than our own parents, who would often tell us what to do, "no ifs, ands or buts about it".

 What does happen after a lecture is really anything but productive. I’ve heard parents say, "We had a long discussion about "x" and now I think he really understands". This is probably not the case. What likely has happened is you have spoken at great length about how you think things "should" be. You have explained every facet of the occurrence and told them just how wrong they are, leaving no place for them to save face. Moreover, this type of interaction erodes your connection, leaving your child feeling judged and scolded, even though there has been no punishment or consequence. It’s been made plainly obvious that they are wrong and you are right. We know from experience how that feels.

 So, how do you teach your children to self-regulate? I love using the statistic from a group of researchers on learning: It has been said that 80% of what children learn is what is modeled to them. I became about 80% like my parents without having them tell me a thing. Merely by watching, I learned to yell, scold, and belittle. I wasn't instructed to be this kind of parent, nor did I study this type of behavior as my guide to parenting. I'll tell you what though, it was modeled to me and that modeling became instinctual, almost second nature. My default.

 We teach self-regulation by regulating ourselves. In adverse times, when things get crazy in our worlds, we show our kids how to be calm and relaxed. When Pia tries to kick me, Esme says she hates me, the water boils over on the stove, I trip over the cat and dinner is an hour late, I remain calm. I come with love and kindness, and I take really deep breaths, talking to myself with mantras of serenity. I remind myself that these things are normal, that my child is not "bad" or "wrong" but rather having a hard time, which has nothing to do with me. Dinner can be late and water is easily cleaned. Over time, lots of time...perhaps their entire childhood, they will learn self-regulation. Will it happen the first time you chose not to lose your temper? No, but with consistency, it will happen, slowly but surely.

 -Michelle Carlson

FOR CRYING OUT LOUD- Sometimes you need to lose it to find it.

In the movies, a woman gets her feelings slightly hurt. She lets her sullen lips quiver and her large doe eyes fill with tears and that’s all it takes to trigger a response of complete remorse from her lover. He’d gladly right all the wrongs that led to this point if she would only not cry. Embracing her, he begs for her not to shed such sad tears, and she is comforted and pretty music plays.

In the real world, a woman cries every time she tries to convey a thought of displeasure about her predicament as housewife/mother/teacher. She knows damn well she has cried over this same topic before and feels like a fucking lunatic because in her mind if she could just communicate it the right way this time, maybe her lover will see that she isn’t just a huge bitch face, and understand that she does get to the end of her rope some days, even when she isn’t premenstrual, and all the emotion packed behind a response to that one, little, unintended, negative comment, leads to a performance of anguish, where she surrenders herself to the tears at hand and ugly sobs face down on the bed like a toddler throwing a tantrum, completely warranting the demeanor of her husband, who patiently sits back and waits for her to work through it. No pretty music, just the gurgle of snot as it is wiped away on the sleeve of the pajamas that she’s worn all day.

So what did you gals do this weekend?...

I am not proud to admit that I did the above. I wish like hell that I didn’t take the heavy of the household and throw it at my husband’s feet like a whiney wretch. I try to look back through the week and see where things started to go wrong but it all feels like a bad Alice and Wonderland remake at that point: a collection of sharp words exchanged over shirked responsibilities, the pieces left over from whatever consistency unraveled, resulting in the proliferation of child-rearing-mayhem, the dark descent into spouts of spousal silence, and then it’s off with her head cry-fest.

I make solid attempts to set my family up for success; we plan, and list, and dream, and then John and I pump the kids up with whatever viable enthusiasm they can muster, and make a pretty good run of things. You know the list: studies, chores, responsibilities, hobbies, extracurricular activities, social lives, family time; It’s an all-in kind of life around here. And that is just the kids. John and I make every attempt to lead by example; bettering ourselves and enjoying our lives. After taking care of four kids though, sometimes what we have left for ourselves feels measly.

Inevitably, we both fall prey to the inconvenience of continued effort; bad choices made in an attempt to secure selfish time to one’s self, or simply to relish in a moment of immobility, face to the phone, a “fuck Y'all, all y’all, Y'all don’t like me, blow me” aura descends. My own inability to champion all the things that I think I can, sours into resentment. And if I leave it unchecked, I stop communicating. I stop reaping what diligence manifests; extra time, rest, relationship growth, individual growth, and instead scramble to get the bare minimum done, still half-assing all those other goals. I absolutely can not get back to even without asking for John’s help. And that’s usually all I needed to do to begin with.

When I hit rock bottom, I realize he isn’t there with me. And I get so fucking sad because I know that I haven’t trusted him to carry the weight that I am feeling. I think he won’t last carrying around resentments or being burdened by all the needs of this household, but I clearly cannot do it either. Then I just miss him so bad, I cry. And I’m such an ass, what I want to say is “I need you more right now than I usually do.” but instead I blubber, and incoherently try to pass the blame.

Earlier that day, the quote on Mindful + Mama’s Instagram, by Jen Sincero, had me all ‘resigned woman-emoji’, hand over her face in despair: “So often we pretend we’ve made a decision when what we’ve really done is signed up to try until it gets too uncomfortable.” Angi!! I felt like you could see my self-loathing, victim induced, bleeding heart!

So how do we make our endeavors last? Well, after taking the long way around to get there, I communicated. The “responsibility chart” that had been mostly ignored for the past weeks, got revamped. We acknowledged that there is no guarantee that we will successfully enforce all these color-coordinated intentions without a separate clause holding the enforcers themselves accountable. I tuned it up a bit before drawing everyone’s attention back to it. We had a family meeting so we could praise the little-beings for what they had done right, before slaying them for all that needed improvement. Here’s what went down:

John and I humbly took our fair share of the fault for the family’s combined reluctance to toe the responsibility line. Clearly, we are fooling ourselves if we expect a chore list to parent for us.

Each family member has been assigned a day of the week to maintain the area in our home that accumulates the most mess. For us, this is the backyard. Deciphering who created what mess is a headache in and of itself. We’re striving for an alternative to the fights that occur between siblings when asked to clean up. Our goal is to have them realize there is less work involved for all of them when they regularly clean up after themselves. Fingers crossed it’s not a complete crash and burn.

We also committed to an allotment of 90 minutes of face-to-phone time per weekday. This is for all of us and begins anytime after 4:30 pm. Chores and studies have been completed by midday, and the intention is to provide them with ample free time, void of any expectation to have internet access. A healthy portion of time before bed will be available for us to act as a family; maybe spread the joy of words over a game of Scrabble, or work on my personal patience affirmations over a lengthy game of Life.  

Before enjoying dessert and a movie on Monday night, we will check in with how everyone is feeling in regards to the new rules of the house. This will give us a forum to correct behaviors and give gratitude to those making an effort. And then we can end on a high note by stuffing our faces with Ben and Jerry’s.

Ultimately, I just need to know that I have John’s support. Shit can get real uncomfortable, as long as he is right there with me. This is the guy that supported my body and choices through four homebirths; he knows a lot about uncomfortable women. I have complete faith that we will continue to maneuver the adventures of family life, even if it is done one ugly cry at a time.

-Emily

RABID COYOTES AND THE ART OF MAKING NEW FRIENDS.

I remember in vivid detail the first time I succumbed to peer pressure. At the tender age of seven, I was told by a new “friend” that I was to march across the playground to my existing BFF, Emily, and inform her she would no longer be holding the position of my numero uno.  I recall feeling queasy, completely aware of and saddened by what this would do to sweet Emily. I desperately wanted out of the predicament.

I walked sheepishly over to the balance beam she played on, my schoolmate bully following, prodding me like a baby calf on the way to the slaughterhouse.  She hovered over us with a twinkle in her eye as I proceeded to rip the precious heart from my kindred spirit and smite out any remaining chance of reconciliation.  

At that precise moment, I became (punch to every mother’s gut) a follower. This single event set the stage for the rest of my formative years. This bully, acting under the guise of friendship, remained in my life for far too long. As in any abusive relationship, my self-confidence was repeatedly shattered, convincing me that she was a necessity in my life, serving as the only link to the super cool clique every girl wanted to be a part of (or so I believed).  Her specialty was shaming me amongst our peers, as my parents had a relatively humble home and weren’t the owners of any luxury vehicles. My position on the bottom rung of that shiny ladder was solidified through high school.  I was 20 before I finally shook her like an old dirty coat.  

Flash forward to my mid-30s. I’m not known for a warm inviting smile. The fact that I keep a straight face most of the time has commonly led people to make negative assumptions about my personal character. My “resting bitch face” has proven to be very effective in the art of “how to not make new friends.”  I’ve sufficiently managed to keep prospective friends at arm’s length, maintaining the sentiment that I just don’t need them, they require more than I have to offer.

Well, my theory was just plain wrong. I became acutely aware of this a few years ago when my middle daughter started school. I would see other moms at pick up time (looking fabulous in their active wear) and feel instantly intimidated by the daily small talk they’d engage in. “They must all go way back,” I thought, “longtime friends with established play-groups.”  I instantly labeled myself an outsider and was resigned to waiting in the car until the moment before the bell rang.  I made assumptions, stereotyping these innocent, possibly kind-hearted women, all in the name of self-preservation. After all, what could we have in common? My kids eat frozen corn dogs and I don’t even have a Facebook account. I don’t remember connecting with anyone for most of that school year and, consequently, neither did my daughter.  I became aware that my social issues and standoff attitude were directly affecting her potential friendships. I knew I had to man up and force myself to dive headfirst into a cesspool brimming with every variety of female shark known to science, all sharp-toothed and anxious to rip me to shreds.

As it turns out, it wasn’t all bad, my daughter made a great friend and so did I, and that meeting has led me into contributing to this very website.

In hindsight, all these social struggles seem so unnecessary. I’ve done a lot of reflecting trying to figure out what about the seven-year-old me made a good candidate for being pushed around.  I had no obvious reason for having low self-worth. My mom had always modeled social  confidence and taught me, “it’s none of your business what anyone  thinks about you.”  Maybe it’s just a simple human tendency to desire to be part of a pack. But, some children simply lack the good judgement required to choose the right pack to run with. Unfortunately (as my father always reminded me), you are who you hang out with. And, I got myself into plenty of trouble throughout the years, along with my pack. Damnit, why didn’t I recognize my parents' wisdom sooner?

I want my daughter to decide for herself whom she will call “friend”.  I’m doing my best to help her grow in confidence while also humbly accepting personal failure. I also need for her to understand (in eight-year-old terms) that if a peer pushes her into something she’s uncomfortable with or makes her feel shameful, she is under no obligation to continue that relationship. Friends will no doubt disappoint at times, and that is okay, but there needs to be a threshold. More importantly, I’m trying to teach her to trust her instincts in determining the difference between genuine and phony. She doesn’t necessarily have to be a leader, but she also needn’t be a follower, she can just be exactly who she is. While insisting she be kind to everyone, she is given the right to decide what qualities are important in a friend and whether or not she will invest in that personal relationship because any worthwhile friendship requires a sizable investment on both ends.

It’s a learning curve for the both of us. I’ve met some pretty great women lately. As hard as it may be to trust they are women and not rabid coyotes, I am making investments. Some of these ladies are cynical and jaded, like me. We share a common perspective and love to hate the same things. I find comfort around them because I know I’m understood. And some are refreshingly positive and sweet, seeming never to have a sarcastic thought. This I find fascinating as my mind is proficient in all things negative and social assumptions are as natural, for me, as breathing air. I am learning from them how to assume the best of others, and I have yet to be disappointed. Finding good people has taken me far too long, but I do believe I’ve arrived. I’m hopeful that my daughter is observing what healthy relationships look like and will also choose to surround herself with authentic humans who have her best interests at heart.

-Shelley

HAS SEX BECOME JUST ANOTHER CHORE YOU DON'T WANT TO DO?

“Let’s talk about sex baby, let’s talk about you and me, let’s talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be, let’s talk about sex.” -Salt-N-Pepa

Disclaimer: If you’re my mom or my dad or my mother in law or my father in law or any old person I look up to, promptly close the window on your screen and move along to Facebook or something.

I was in a self-help book club before we moved. It was glorious, full of intelligent, interesting, open-minded women eager to share their perspectives. There are certain requirements for a book club to be considered legitimate. One is books and the other is wine. I’m a rule follower, so naturally, our book club had both.

At around hour three, the wine bottles were usually empty and the subject matter had taken a surprising turn- to sex. This happened Every.Single.Time. We learned some interesting things about one another. I’m a classic oversharer. Especially when booze is involved. (You take that one bit of information to your graves girls. Y'all know which one I’m talking about.)

Anyway, this book club, coupled with the intimate stories told to a hairstylist, and tidbits from friends, have given me some insight about how much and what kind of sex everybody is having and how they feel about it.

From what I’m hearing, most of you just aren’t into it. Sex has become yet another chore, lifetimes away from the glory days of pre-wedded bliss.

Is this because the world is complicated and exhausting? Is it because your hormones are whack-a-doodle from the aforementioned exhausting life, coupled with pregnancy upon pregnancy? Is it because you feel like your hot factor has dramatically declined in the last half-decade or so? Is your marriage doomed?

The answer probably lies somewhere within all of those, except maybe the doomed marriage part (fingers crossed for you).

Most of us are gettin’ it on somewhere between 1-3 times per week, according to stats on The Google. But, realistically, word on the street (my street) puts it more at like 0-1 times per week. Zero times is a travesty, ladies. Sex is free, fun, and it’s healthy. And, it’s good for your marriage. It’s a win, win, win… win.

We don’t need to hold ourselves to the standards of a national average. Quality over quantity makes a difference. Five wham-bam-thank-you-mams in a week don’t count for much when it comes to emotional connection. Not every night is going to be filled with mind-blowing sex, but you gotta squeeze those in whenever you can. It’s a subjective necessity that varies for everyone. If once per week you’re having an intense session and everyone is satisfied, then don’t play the comparison game.

Let’s pick apart what’s going on for those of us that just aren’t feeling it. (These suggestions are predicated on the assumption that there aren’t additional emotional/ sexual issues to address for either party- we’ll address some of these in future blogs.)

If you feel like you’ve never recovered from the cray cray hormonal fest that is pregnancy and/or breastfeeding, you’re in good company. I’ve certainly been there. After 15 months of breastfeeding my second and third children, I had the energy levels and the libido of a cardboard box. Getting your hormones checked is a losing battle, because they fluctuate wildly depending on where you’re at in your cycle, so don’t waste any bucks there. First off, everyone needs to take Vitamin D3, Magnesium, B12, and iron (this one only if you’ve tested deficient). These vitamins are game changers for your energy levels and almost all of us are deficient (yes, even the healthy eaters).

Check out adaptogens, like ashwagandha and rhodiola. These aid stress regulation and hormonal regulation. While not an adaptogen, SAM-e helps with stress and depression. Read my article about Adrenal Fatigue. If it resonates with you, think about making the suggested changes.

Maca root powder, Evening Primrose, krill oil, and DIM are excellent supplements for regulating hormones in whatever direction needed. A lot of us (most of us) are estrogen dominant (read about this here) because of mass exposure in our environments. It’s important to avoid unnecessary exposure to estrogens- plastics, non-organic produce, soy, non-botanical cleaners, make-ups, and hair products, etc etc.

Cleaning up your diet, to support health and energy will do so much more than improve your libido. You’re worth it. Your family is worth it. Your marriage is so worth it.

Now that we’ve gotten the health stuff out of the way, let’s talk about the possibility of you just not feeling sexy enough to want to actually have sex. Your husband’s idea of sexy has more to do with your self-confidence, and his complete and utter love for you, than that extra 15 pounds you just can’t seem to shake. He doesn’t care. He’s not picking you apart the way that you do yourself. He wants you. Don’t deny yourselves that satisfaction and sense of connection because you want to keep your saddlebags under wraps.

Maybe things have gotten monotonous and the payoff isn’t feeling worth the effort involved. Good sex is a two-way street. It’s like that thing we always say to our kids - “bored people are boring.” Get off your back and have some fun, mix it up, dress it up. It might feel silly, but some sexy music and a pretty lil’ something can set the tone. I have a sexy time playlist on my phone. It helps take me out of my responsible, adult, list making head, and puts me in the mood. I’ll even listen to it during the day to rev myself up for the upcoming evening. I associate good times with those songs and enjoy thinking about that more than just when we’re in the moment.

If your husband still doesn’t seem to know what’s up with your body, nothing is going to change unless you share what you’ve learned with him. He doesn’t have a vagina, how is he supposed to know what to do with yours if you aren’t incredibly specific, down to the last detail? Everyone likes different stuff. You won’t hurt his feelings if you clue him into what works for you. Most men greatly appreciate the guidance. They love to see you satisfied. It makes them feel accomplished. (If your husband isn’t interested in anything more than his own needs, that’s a relationship issue that surely bleeds over into everything else, and most definitely requires intensive mending. Ditto if you’re not thinking about his needs.)

Guilt is another roadblock in allowing our partners to pleasure us. I used to make assumptions about what my husband did and didn’t want to do, or how he felt about spending time just on me. The truth is that he loves me and enjoys seeing me feel good. He thinks I’m worth the effort.

Some of us struggle with shame and embarrassment surrounding sex or nudity. It’s hard to talk openly and use all the anatomical words to describe what we want in the light of day. Some of us may not even be sure what we like or what works. There’s no magic bullet for removing programmed shame. It takes time and forced communication. The more you talk about it, the more you experiment on your own and together, the more desensitized you’ll become. Up until I was about 30, I struggled with discussing and learning my own preferences, relying upon various partners to teach me. Over time, through toeing the line of my comfort zone, it’s become a much easier and far more rewarding process.

If none of this seems applicable, and you’re just not into your guy, that sounds like a marriage problem, lack of sexual interest being a byproduct, probably accompanied by a host of other byproducts.

Assuming you’re in love with your husband, there are little changes that can make big differences.

Here are a few things that have proven helpful with maintaining intimacy in my marriage:

I go out of my way to really notice my husband, the way his arms flex as he’s making his breakfast, his cute lil’ butt walking around the house in his sweatpants (which I give a squeeze every chance I get). I pop into his office regularly to sneak more than a basic smooch and maybe pass a lil’ verbal foreplay his way. These things may sound silly, but they build tension and by day’s end we’re excited for more. It takes effort and mindfulness, but it’s minimal, reminds us of our pre-children selves, and it’s fun.

I know that we’re all spent by the time we’ve cleaned dinner dishes, herded a bunch of kids into the bath, gotten them to sleep, and then settled into the reprieve from parenting that is bedtime. I don’t think any of us are immune to that. Sex after a long day is like exercise, you have to motivate yourself to get started. Once you’ve done it, it’s almost never regrettable. Most of us have a laundry list of shit we need to do all day, every day, and often times sex just doesn’t make the cut. Wine on the couch sounds much more alluring. Making sex a priority can grow your relationship, and the extra strength it adds to our partnerships helps us handle the chaos of life and parenthood. It’s a fundamental part of marriage, a physical extension of the emotional connection that is imperative to a healthy, loving relationship. It’s not just about getting your husbands rocks off because men have “needs.” If you allow yourself to really be immersed in it and take the time to nurture that connection, so many aspects of your marriage and your self-image stand to benefit. If you’re not having sex, you’re roommates- you’ve removed an incredibly special and definitive piece of your marital relationship. Rewrite that list, move intimacy up several spots and see what happens, you’ll likely be pleasantly surprised.

-Angi

Side note: I really want to emphasize that so many women have varying degrees of psychological associations with sex and current experiences are colored by past experiences. It’s not always a drive issue and definitely not always as simple as I’m presenting in this blog if your sexual history and upbringing are complicated. There’s help out there, and it's more common than you think ❤️.