Still horny after all these kids

Maintaining a sex life sucks when you have young children (we’ve got three: five months, three and nine years old). But we know it’s so important—not just for our marriage, obviously (becoming adult friends who cohabit would be my worst nightmare), but also because both of us would go batsh*t crazy if we weren’t feeding this part of ourselves.

It helps that I find my husband incredibly sexy, and that he feels the same way, despite the fact that motherhood has made me the least glamorous I’ve ever been. We’re also highly sexed—we think about getting it on a lot. So despite the exhaustion, the interruptions and the less-than-romantic circumstances, we are determined. As a parent, you become highly adept at picking your moments (and your battles and food off the floor). We’ve put this skill to good use with our love life.

Leisurely foreplay is long gone; hours-long lovemaking sessions a thing sweet memories are made of. Before our third baby arrived, if we weren’t too beat, we might jump each other’s bones before bed, but we had to be careful not to make too much noise (lots of lip biting is involved). We would do it on high alert, pausing every time the house creaked in case a kid was about to burst in requesting a glass of water or whatever other past-bedtime BS they might pull. The thrill of getting caught is not at all sexy when it’s your kids who might catch you.

Now that we are co-sleeping, our baby between us like some living, breathing contraceptive, we haven’t had sex in our own bed for a while. When he is napping and the older kids are at school, we steal away to the spare room or my husband will bend me over the kitchen counter for a hot and dirty quickie. Then we pretty much high-five for managing to actually have full-on sex. If the baby sleeps long enough for us to have a shower afterwards, then it truly feels like a major win.

There may not be as much penetrative sex as we’d like, but we still have a pretty active sex life. When the kids are watching Saturday morning cartoons and we’re in another part of the house, I’ll grab my husband and stick my hand down his pants or nip at his neck when we’re kissing to remind him that he makes me hot, even if his shoulder stinks of baby vomit. And there was that time last summer when we took a break from yardwork and made out behind a tree (that was pretty steamy). Of course, our kids seem to have an affection beacon and like to appear from out of nowhere when we start to get frisky—even when we’re sneaking around.

When we’re too tired to contemplate sex at all, we’ll watch some porn (hey, we’re lying down), or watch each other masturbate as I tell a dirty story. We send each other links to lingerie we like or sexy movies we should watch together. We talk about one day going to an anything-goes adults-only resort in the Caribbean (not sure we’d actually do it, but the idea is fun, right?). We also encourage each other to have a little solo fun, and often share links to whatever porn clips helped us out so the other can know what just turned us on.

I have to admit that there are many nights when, despite the fact we’ve teased each other all day, we just go to bed and pass out. I think we’re realists: horny realists who are just as tired as every other couple with kids out there. None of these stolen moments are ever a waste, though. I like to think of them as small investments leading up to a big payoff: the brilliant, uninhibited sex life—shower afterward always included—that we’ll have again someday.

*Name has been changed.

A version of this article appeared in our February 2016 issue, titled "Still horny after all these kids", pg. 65.

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