Fifty Shades of Bullshit: The Parenting Years
I feel a familiar burning deep, down, inside of me. I’m hot…
so hot. I move a strand of dark hair out of my blue eyes as I wonder… did I
remember to take my pro-biotic this morning? Why else would my stomach be
feeling this way? My inner goddess reaches up and bitch slaps me. Wake up, dumbass! Just because you got no
sleep last night gives you no reason to get distracted. I shake my head and
get back to the task at hand.
The water is so hot… My hands are moving slowly in a
circular motion, gently caressing the fine China I thought was so important to
register for when I got married. I take my warm, wet hands out of the sink and
start the dishwasher. I’m feeling antsy… When will he be home? I long for my
Fifty… I need him, now. I try not to think about it as I hand dry the China
with a dish towel, but desire overwhelms me as I think about the Avocado Egg
Rolls he’s supposed to bring me from BJ’s. Oh, my. I hope he remembers the
dipping sauce.
Suddenly, I hear a scream… Alarm takes over my emotions
instantly, but I take a swig of my $10 Target wine and the panic subsides. I
hesitantly yell down the hallway.
“Whoever just made the other one cry, STOP IT! I don’t care
who is right or who is wrong. Just STOP!” Silence. Such lovely, but terrifying
silence. I figure that if someone had a broken bone, the crying would not have
ended so quickly. Sighing, I walk through the Great Room, and begin picking up
the Princess panties and t-shirts strewn haphazardly throughout the area. I
feel a momentary twinge of anger towards Mrs. Jones for quitting, but who could
blame her? I hold back a sob as I remember her last day with us, as she grabbed
a shit-filled diaper and launched it across the living room. Her parting words
to me still feel like a slap in the face.
“Bitch, I did NOT sign up for this shit! Change your own
damn diapers and feed your own piece of shit children. I am OUT of here!”
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a key turning in
the door. Excited, I run to greet my Fifty. He opens the door and walks in,
looking at me with his dark, grey eyes. What is that expression? What is he
thinking? I can tell something is seriously wrong as the smile he gives me
doesn’t quite touch his eyes.
“Christian, what’s wrong?” I ask, panicked. Christian looks
me in the eyes, then shifts his glance down at the floor, guiltily.
“I forgot the dipping sauce,” he
answers me. Oh, my. This information takes a moment to set in. And I realize,
I’m angry. I stare at my Fifty, my stupid, scatterbrained Fifty. What a moron.
Who wants to eat Avocado Rolls without the dipping sauce? What a complete
asshole.
The children are all finally asleep. I crawl into bed,
exhausted, and happily let my head hit the soft pillow awaiting me. I have been
dreaming of this all day…
Christian walks into the bedroom. He’s wearing no shirt, and
those tight, light colored jeans with the rip in the knee. I shake my head at
him. How many times do I have to tell this man that faded jeans went out of
style when AC Slater stopped wearing them on Saved By The Bell? Before I can
even state my opinion, I look up and see his burning expression. Oh, shit. Is
it Wednesday? Sex day. Damn it.
“Mrs. Grey. I think you have seriously misbehaved today.”
His grey eyes darken, and he moves towards me, closer, and I can feel the heat
coming off of his body as he slowly climbs into the bed.
“Me? You’re the one who forgot the dipping sauce, ass face.”
I shake my head, still irritated. Christian ignores my comment and slides under
the sheets next to me. He grabs the back of my ponytail and kisses me, hard.
“I think I would like you in the shower,” he says to me,
eyes burning. I look up at him.
“Christian, can we just do it in the bed? I’m so tired,” I
answer. I look up at him longingly, hoping that he’ll agree to just make it a
quickie.
“No, seriously. Have you even showered today?” Christian has
a look of disgust on his face as he pulls a Cheerio out of my hair. I casually
lift my arm and take a whiff of my armpit. Good, not great.
“Look, Christian.” I sigh at him, then shrug. “Beggars can’t
be choosers. You can have me unshowered, or you can’t have me at all.”
Christian looks at me and sighs back, weighing his options.
“Fine,” he growls angrily at me and takes off his dreaded
jeans. It is clear that my lack of a shower has not resulted in the lack of a
huge boner. What a pervert. Christian grabs me and tries to roll me over on top
of him, but I fight with everything I have to stay on the bottom. If I’m doing
this, it’s going to be on my terms, and he’s going to just have to deal with
it. After a silent struggle, Christian finally gives up and climbs on top of
me. Oh, thank God. No foreplay. That will get me to bed five minutes quicker
than I had anticipated. I close my eyes and wait for him to begin.
“Oh, baby. You look so hot… You feel so good.” I roll my
eyes and try not to laugh at him. What kind of weirdo thinks that a C-section
scar and saggy nursed upon boobs are hot? But I refrain from saying anything.
Talking will just prolong this experience. Suddenly, I feel something against
my body; cold, hard, rubbery… Oh my. “Yeah, baby,” Christian whispers. “I saw
you bought us a new toy. I’m so glad you’re getting back into things again.”
New toy? I didn’t buy a new toy. I open my eyes, suddenly nervous as to what
he’s referring.
“Christian!” I exclaim.”That’s a teething ring. Damn it, I
just finished the dishes, and now you give me something else to clean?! What
the hell??” Christian looks at the small teething ring and gives me his shy smile.
I roll my eyes at him as he tosses the teething ring off of the bed. He climbs
back on top of me and continues his familiar rhythm.
“Oh, baby. You feel so good! Oh, Ana!” I let him keep
talking as I silently lie under him, closing my eyes again. Damn it. I forgot
to make my grocery list. Okay, I know we need eggs. Milk, butter, bread, fruit
squeezers, apples. “Yes, Ana!” Shells and Cheese, chicken nuggets, diapers.
“YES!” Oh, he’s done. Awesome. Christian kisses me softly on the cheek and
climbs off of me, ripping a loud fart as he makes his way to the bathroom. I
tilt my head to the side and wonder how long he had been holding that one in.
I’m just drifting off to sleep as Christian climbs back into
bed with me. He turns on the TV and begins watching some stupid show on PBS.
This will definitely make it easier for me to sleep. I put my hand on his leg,
knowing that I can touch him now without the dreaded sex effect. My Fifty. My
dumbass, forgetful, faded jeans Fifty. I’m still so pissed he forgot the dipping
sauce.
aweome.
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