Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex

It’s Freaky Friday over here at Playboy Mommy HQ, and today I want to reach out and ask you for a great, big favor. I want you to send me a note and tell me what kind of sexy subjects you want to read about. I have my own ideas about what makes for good sex education, but I’m always happy to be inspired, so please send me your suggestions, or better yet, send me a note with a specific issue or question and I’ll respond either in a blog post just for you or with a video reply on my coming soon YouTube Channel. Your anonymity is guaranteed, so don’t be shy. You can drop me a line here and I’ll let you know when I’m going to post a reply, or tackle the subject you’ve suggested.

In other freaky news, the reception for my soon-to-be-published sex manual has been overwhelming. It’s a sex guide for guys in relationships, in case you haven’t heard. For those of you who read it and got back to me so quickly, I’m so grateful. For you who are still reading, I can’t wait to hear back. I’m up to my ears in formatting research and self-publishing tips, and I can’t wait to get this book out there. I’m really proud of how it’s turned out.

Internet Gems

Remember Macy Gray? Well, she’s back, and I have a few ideas of what she’s been up to while not in the limelight. Witness this catchy tune, with animation that is disturbingly similar to that of the popular game Dumb Ways to Die.

I love me some Amy Schumer, and of course she’s making the talk show rounds to promote her film ‘Trainwreck’, which I’ve not yet seen. : (

Check out this great moment on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon:

That’s it for now lovers, I hope you have a sexy weekend!


PB Mommy

I Need a Few Good Men

I am so freaking excited to let you know that I’m nearly ready to begin the publishing process for my first book! It’s a sex and relationship guide for the average hetero guy in a long-term relationship, and it’s called Keeping It Up. I’ve lined up a cover designer, an illustrator, and I’m cutting my teeth on self-publishing this bad boy, but now I need a few good men to beta read this manuscript for me.

It’s a quick read, only 22,000 words, which is about 55 Word document pages. If you are a hetero male in a relationship, and can commit to reading this thing and getting it back to me within a week, I’d love to have your feedback. I’ll ask you to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement, and then I’ll ask you for an honest review on Amazon and perhaps a couple of other platforms when it’s done. What’s more, I’ll give you a free copy in the format of your choice of the final product.

So, if you’d like to have a look, please email me and let me know, and tell me a little bit about yourself. Ladies, if you’d like to sign up your fella, please have him email me. I want to make sure he’s as enthusiastic as you are!

Thanks lovers, I can’t wait to share this book with all of you!


The Facebook Cry for Help

I don’t ever want to be a chronic case, but every now and then, the ‘Facebook Cry for Help’ really gets you what you need.

This morning was another immensely challenging start to the day with Noah. I had let him play with my phone in bed, but then asked for it back to send an important text. He went postal and started with the punching and screaming. My initial approach was calm, explaining that hitting hurts, and if he kept hitting, he wouldn’t get the phone back. This didn’t work. I tried sympathizing with him, while still being firm. This didn’t work. Finally, I told him that if he kept hitting and kicking me, he would have to leave my room. I’m not proud of this, but when it continued and even ramped up to pinching (and trust me, the little monkey is quite strong) I plucked him from the bed, set him outside my room, and locked the door. Bad parenting, 100 percent.

Now, with the whole house awoken by the sounds of toddler screams, I didn’t need to send any texts. I got some helping hands from the other parents, and my bewildered tween gave me that look she gives when I’m feeling overwhelmed. A look of trepidation and uncertainty. I project onto this look, “She thinks I’m a terrible parent.” because I think I’m a terrible parent in this moment. Then my partner returns with my son, and she tells me he’s too young to have separation be a consequence for bad behavior. She’s right, of course, she usually is, but I’m falling so fast into the spiral I can’t hear her. Instead I break down, citing exhaustion (partially true) and ineptitude (what I believe is mostly true) as my reasons for making a mistake.

I made a mistake. I make lots of them. These mistakes are often around issues of parenting. Now that my animal brain is mostly switched off again, I’ll hazard that most parents do this. Here, the mistake is less of an issue than what happens inside my head when I make it.

Noah felt like the only thing I was really good at. I figured it was because I got to start from scratch with him. And maybe because of our biological tie. I told myself that I would always be great at Noah, and I could always hold on to that. Well guess what? Noah is approaching three, and I’m more and more feeling like I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m also thinking I put a crap load of unrealistic pressure on myself to be perfect.

The challenge isn’t parenting resources. There’s an abundance of those. The real thing that I need is to be able to love myself through my mistakes, and not fall into the well where I feel so terrible that I believe with great clarity (in those moments) that everyone is better off without me. How can anyone learn or grow from such a place? How do I stay away from there?

I posted a cry for help. I got lots of loving advice. These words of encouragement worked. I saw my pain reflected in others’ who have had similar experiences with failure feelings. I was gifted with this wonderful video created and produced by a Facebook friend, Tamara Levitt. If you are struggling with feelings of failure, you must invest ten minutes to watch this, it was beautiful.

My narrative started to shift. Maybe just admitting I was sucking at parenting made me a better parent because it opened doors to improvement? Maybe these profound feelings of shame are a clue that I need to access more self-love and compassion when I am feeling challenged? Maybe I should shelve my work responsibilities and spend the morning watching parenting videos? There were suddenly possibilities beyond “I should leave because I’m ruining everyone’s life.”

Progress is realizing how much faster that turn around has happened. A matter of hours today instead of days. It would have taken me days to feel worthwhile again, not long ago.

This morning after the other parents brought Noah downstairs to play, I had a good bawl. Then I splashed water on my face, got dressed, and went downstairs to try a restart. I got hugs from everyone, including the still wary Hannah. I played with Noah who was right as rain. I fed him, we snuggled, and then I took him to school where he got extra hugs and kisses from me when I dropped him off.

Next I’m going to set up a Skype session with my therapist so I can talk about self-love strategies. Avoiding the pit of despair will bolster me with the confidence I need to get through this challenging toddler time.

I’m not sure what else I can to do be better at this, but this is a start. And another lesson learned; keep breathing, ask for help, apologize, forgive and the shift from desperation and pain to possibility and hope is inevitable.

Poolside Pondering

Don’t you love those Mondays when you hit the ground running, totally organized, motivated and ready to start the week? I had the opposite of that this morning. Now as the dust has settled, I’m stealing a few moments for a bit of poolside pondering.

While I feel a near desperate need for productivity and routine, it seems that life, or more specifically, toddler-hood continues to conspire against me. This morning, I woke to the crankiest boy in the world. Screaming (primal) was his mode of communication. Kung-Fu took the place of cuddles (my bad, I let him watch Kung-Fu Panda, and now nobody is safe).  True, his molars are coming in. True he thinks it’s bullshit that his sisters get to stay home while he has to go to daycare three days a week. Still, what happened to my sweet little baby?

He refused to get dressed. He refused to eat breakfast. We started to run so far behind that I had to take him along to our vet appointment. This was a delight, of course, and by the time we were done he was happy to roll into his class and share his adventure with “the friends”. I got home wondering what the rest of the day would hold in store.


So far, so good. I finished my final draft of the non-fiction book I’m working on. I managed to write this post. I’m currently acting as a lifeguard to my daughters and their friend who are splashing in the pool. Soon I will vacuum our house. My to-do list continues to get done, when I allow for some breathing space, some deviation from “the plan” rather than getting all wound up. When I tune into the needs of my children, who need at least one of us parents to be nearby while they eat up the lazy days of summer, I can still have my own little bit of productivity.

Lucky for me, I get to be their front line. I get to work poolside with a happy puppy snoring at my feet, paws wrapped around the bone she’s buried and dug up about five times now. I’m so grateful for our three-parent life, all of us working together to make our days full and happy. I’m so grateful for this new home, which will keep our children and their friends amused all summer.

How has your Monday surprised you?

This One’s For You, Robbie M.


A visit from good friends had me in tears in my kitchen last night, but let me back up a little.

In the fashion of all great deadbeats, I’ve vanished from your lives again. Maybe you didn’t notice. Maybe you’re rolling your eyes at the suggestion that you would notice my complete and utter lack of writing. I’ve noticed, and as usual, I’ve been hurting from the absence of words to share. I’m a deadbeat. I’m owning it, and it’s hurting me more than it’s hurting you.

My excuses are almost always good. I went through a huge and cathartic reckoning where I had to account for some pretty heavy-duty shortcomings, and make amends with some pretty important people. That shit ain’t easy. It’s humbling, and painful, and it’s private, so I couldn’t really share the details. It took the piss out of me, and left with this raw combo of self-hatred, and newly acquired self-love. The latter is so weird and unfamiliar, that I had to constantly work at it to scrape through the few weeks leading up to the next big thing.

We moved. We’re still in the country, far away from city life, but now my nuclear family has a home of our own. There were bountiful blessings living with our in-laws, but it was most definitely time to find our own home, and it’s the perfect home for our unique family. What a gift from the Universe! Our pre-teen daughters get their own bedrooms and bathrooms (Hallelujah!) our little boy gets his own room and mommy has a private grown up bed again, and we all have a beautiful pool to enjoy. Hosting friends in our own space is a healing that I didn’t even know I needed. The house is wonderful, but this big change is not without some growing pains. For example:

I haven’t really slept well since mid May. Life stress leading up to the move, and trying to transition Noodle into his own bed has taken it’s toll. I need some great strategies to help transition this little guy so that he can sleep on his own, and I need a full night’s rest.

The dog is making us crazy. She’s SUPER high energy, very mouthy, not yet housebroken, and deaf. The children are somewhat terrified of her, because she’s drawn blood from all of us. I  bit off way more than I can chew here, I realize. It’s in my nature to throw my hands up from this frustration and walk away before I can reap the benefits of a mature relationship that has weathered the shit storm, in this case of puppy hood. I will fight that nature, because I really hate my ‘run for cover’ impulses, and I’ve committed to giving this dog a better life. She’s so beautiful, and when she looks at me with those hazel eyes…well, I’m keenly aware that neither of us are going anywhere. Sorry daddy, you’re just going to have to deal with this unruly fur baby of ours.

We’ve radically changed our diet and lifestyle. Our whole family has given up carbs of all kinds and sugars of all kinds. The adults stay below 30 net carbs per day, and our kids only get sugar from berries. No more wheat, grains, rice, etc. All gone. For just over two months now. A huge change, and I’ll tell you more about it in future posts. Why such radical change? Basically because the excessive amount of sugar in our diets is killing us, the information we are fed about ‘proper nutrition’ is a lie created by big agricultural corporations, and because I want to live as long as I can, in the very best shape I can be in. Reading, listening to podcasts and finding and cooking new recipes has eaten up so much time, but it’s been so very worth it.

But all of this is bullshit, isn’t it? There will always be excuses for why I don’t write, and I’ll never realize my dreams if I continue to cower behind life. Something else is always going on, but in the midst of this, there will always be time to write. If I don’t write it’s because I’m afraid. It’s because I’m succumbing to that external voice that tells me I have no right, that I have nothing to say.

I’m sorry that I fell into that well again. I’m sorry I haven’t been a better blogger. I’m sorry my novel is gathering dust, and that I judged all of those women in my last writing class for continuing to hammer away at the manuscripts they’d been working on for years. This writing business is unbelievably hard when I’m not doing it, and effortlessly easy when I am. It’s not easy to be a great writer, let’s be clear, it’s easy to find the words. They flow like honey, and I can barely type fast enough to catch this.

And so, in my kitchen last night, when my friend shared how much his brother enjoyed my writing, and was missing my posts, his brother who I never would have pegged in a million years as the kind of person who would like my style, I was moved to tears. My writer’s ego is huge and fragile. I realized in that moment that this guy is exactly the kind of guy I want to get to with my words. The kind of girl he would marry is the kind of girl I want to reach with my fiction. I felt like I was getting just the kick in the ass that I needed to pick up where I left off here.

So Robbie, this one’s for you. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it more than you can ever know.