Makin' Babies

This post is rated PG-13 for sexual situations and overt lunacy.

Some people like to splash cold water on their face first thing in the morning in order to shock themselves awake. Me? I have the dear and patient wife to help get the day started.

"I want a baby."

Right now? With the crust still hemming my eyes closed? What is with you people? It's like the whole pregnancy/no sleep/diaper-changing thing never happened the first time around, despite the fact you spent a full 18 months complaining about it.

Of course, I'd love to have another kid. I just want him/her to come out a year old.

So now we have to keep track of the prime insemination times (there I go again with the romance). The dear and patient wife is walking around with a stopwatch. This weekend, I finally got my musical cue, courtesy of, first, Rod Stewart

Oh no not again
It hurts so good
I don't understand
Ovulation
Ovula-shu-un
Olulation
Ovula-shu-un

followed by Kool and the Gang.

Ovulate good times
Come on!
It's an ovulation

As an added bonus, I can't get either of those songs out of my head. So yeah, my wife is goofy, in a wholly endearing way. And it's nice she gives me the heads up, so I know I'm gonna get some action. Despite our 5 years of marriage, I still harbor the dread of sexual rejection, based on decades of social conditioning and, it must be said, first-hand and repeated experience.

Enough with the stage setting, the point I need to get across about this--the public service I offer to you, faithful readers--is that you should probably refrain from impetuously yelling out "SWIM!" at that magic moment of potential conception. See, apparently, your dear and patient wife/girlfriend might find this uproariously funny (or grossly inappropriate). Laughter causes certain stomach muscles to contract, at the expense of "other" muscles, some of which I long suspected were merely rumors spawned by your finer men's magazines. The contraction of these "other" muscles, I have since discovered, is important to something called an "orgasm," which, apparently, women can have. I know, who knew? The end result, of course, was that by making my dear and patient wife laugh, I inhibited her ability to obtain this once in a lifetime experience.

Don't let this happen to you.

It was REALLY funny, though. And a good story to tell the possible child when they are old enough to have sex. Like, in 30 years. Which should be long enough for me to read up on those "other" muscles.