Cat Skinner Club

I Choose Khaleesi

I haven’t been online much lately because I’m trying to enjoy the summer and time with the family. As such, my inbox is filling with unread email, particularly posts from other blogs I follow. The other day I noticed a post with the heading “What Kind of Wife and Mother Do You Want to Be?” I thought about this for a while, and then it became obvious. I choose Khaleesi.

Before I go any further with this, you should know that I’m reading book two of A Song of Ice and Fire, and I’m caught up to the Game of Thrones series on HBO. In short, I don’t know how it ends, or what happens beyond the point I’ve reached on TV. Do not, under any circumstances, spoil this for me.

For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about – first, you’re missing out. Second, Khaleesi is a title bestowed to one of the characters in these books/TV show. Thus far, this character is on my top ten list of all time heroines. Why? Well, here’s a little Sunday morning list of the reasons, in no particular order, why Khaleesi is the type of wife and mother I want to be:

1. Soft Femininity 

Daenerys is a lady, or at least the kind of lady I imagine when someone describes a ‘lady’. She’s delicate, graceful, and feminine. I relate deeply to these so-called “traditional” qualities of femininity and believe firmly that they have a strength equal to more masculine traits.

2. Ferocity

Nobody gonna keep Khaleesi down. Dealt a brutal set of cards by the hands that wrought her, this gal keeps getting back up and killing it. It doesn’t hurt that she has a few lethal sidekicks, but she’ll even lay a beat down to them if they make the wrong move.

3. Grace 

I don’t mean the kind of grace that keeps her from bumping into doorways. I mean the kind that allows her to rule with compassion and listen to her heart. Whether she’s freeing slaves or banishing traitors, she’s always doing it with class.

4. Style

Khaleesi responds to the changing fashion demands of her quest by working the popular fashion trends to her advantage, with her own unique style. Baring breasts when required, rockin’ death bells in her killer braids, slapping on a bit of armour – I can’t wait to see what she’s wearing next.

5. Solitude 

This bad ass mother isn’t afraid to be alone. In fact, despite being constantly surrounded by people and servants, she seems to really grasp the fact that we come into and leave this coil all by ourselves. Her grasp of that concept really seems to help her appreciate the people she does have, who are loyal to her cause.

6. Smarts

Considering she’s been told what to do by her domineering older brother most of her life, Khaleesi seems to suffer no fools. She’ll ask for counsel when she needs it, but it’s crystal clear that all of her decisions are her own, and I usually want to applaud her brilliance. She seems to trust her intuition and her read of any given situation deeply. It must be nice to just feel that you’re making the right decision.

7. Family Values

All that Khaleesi does and has done is in the name of reclaiming her throne and restoring honour and glory to her family name. A lofty goal, and noble at that. Also, she’s fiercely protective of her children, who frankly don’t need her protection anymore. She wasn’t even tempted to sell them when offered scandalous sums of money in exchange for just one.

8. Sex Positivity

Upon realizing that she had limited knowledge of the ins and outs of bedroom activities, Khaleesi solicited the advice and tutoring of one of her trusted servant women. Oh to be a fly on the wall for those classes. She knew there was much happiness and power to be found in embracing and understanding her sexuality. Plus, who wouldn’t want to impress Khal Drogo with some mad bedroom skills?

9. Dragons

We all have ’em. Some of us were even lucky enough to be born in the year of the dragon. Khaleesi has dragons in the flesh, but all of us have an inner fire, bright as the brightest supernova burning deep inside of us. For most of us, great tragedy ignites the spark that really illuminates how much strength we truly have. I hope that’s not the case for you, but if it is, know that the light within you can shine through the darkest darkness. Especially if you can learn to keep your dragons close. Bad shit can happen if you let them get away from you.

10. Detachment

While not always a desirable quality, Khaleesi’s ability to transcend her emotional response and speak through difficult moments with clarity and composure is a skill I fear I may never master. If she’s throwing plates, she’s doing it in private. Would that I had such a switch to flick in certain moments.

Okay, now it’s your turn. Who are the famous wife and mother role models you most admire?

 

Make Money Blogging; A Bullshit Idea

I really, really want to be a writer when I grow up.

If there is a way that I can earn decent bread writing what I want to write, that would be a dream come true. Trying to find a way to make this dream a reality has robbed me of time and opportunity to enjoy so much of my daily reality. I’ve been totally wrapped up in the what if’s. If you’ve been reading my posts for a while, you’ll know that this blog has changed in many ways as I try to figure out how to make money blogging. I’m writing today to apologize to all of you.

I’ve become so consumed with making a living, I forgot about how much I need to write. I’ve been writing what I thought would make commercial sense, and constantly editing my own impulses and ideas. I seem to be preoccupied with an audience I don’t have. Concern over certain people reading this, and perhaps judging the content has outweighed authenticity and truth. If people find this blog, and read these posts, I want them to love it.  Or hate it. I don’t want ambivalence. Frankly, I need to go back to writing just for me. Or for my kids when they grow up, so that they have a bit of me left to consider. I can’t write for anyone else in this place.

In trying to churn out material, I have learned that writing to fulfil a post quota is a real chore. Don’t get me wrong, such content has a place, but that place is not here.  This will never be a blog with daily posts, unless I get a lot better at taking pictures. Here I’ll just try to keep it legit. I assume I’m right about you, yes? You don’t need to read daily posts from where I share a bunch of links. You want to read the meat. The real thoughts, feelings and ideas that are swimming around in this big red melon ‘o mine.

I do want to write books and create other stimulating experiences. I want to bring you interesting stuff from time to time, but I want that stuff to be from sponsors that I have personally curated. I won’t promise to skip on running ads, a girl’s gotta eat, but I won’t write posts about crap I don’t believe in. Not here. Not like this.

I think I need to thank Jon for raising the bar way high. I don’t even know this guy, but I found his blog, Black Hockey Jesus,  a couple of months ago, and he made me feel dirty. He writes with such vivid beauty, and just the right amount of I-don’t-give-a-fuck, that he made me sit back and take a look around. I felt like a sell out. Maybe I’m being a little harsh, but the brain space I’ve given to how to make money seems to be completely defeating the purpose of writing in the first place.

Every single night, no matter who I sleep beside, I go to bed lonely. The only thing making this loneliness bearable is knowing that coming to terms with my ultimate solitude is the secret to being able to face life head on. Accepting that I am ultimately alone with my own juice motivates me to try to share as much of it as I can, while I can. The only thing that lifts me from that before bedtime loneliness, even for the briefest of moments, is hearing the soft rustling of my son as he sleeps in his bed across the room. He is the only part of me that lives outside my body. He is a part of me, which means I am no longer as solitary.

Writing has opened the valve and allowed me to share the exclusive experience of my existence. The most amazing side effect has been realizing that so many of you can share these feelings. So many of you can relate. This ability to connect, this opportunity to share, is more motivating than the pursuit of the almighty dollar.

I’m sorry I underestimated you. I’m sorry I took you for granted. Let’s have a re-start shall we? A do-over always works for my 8 year old, and for her father and I who live a passionate version of “Who’s the Boss” every single day. If I can just tweak these knobs and clear away the unfocused doodles of the last few months, we can really get into the shit.

I can hardly wait.

 

 

 

On Postpartum Healing and Sex

Image above Vagina Monologue by Eigna

Most of the women I know who have had babies popped those babies out and then returned to their fit, trim, amazing-looking selves. I don’t hate them for that, much,  but my road to recovery was WAY different, and I continue on that road to this day. Some things will never be the same – my belly may always look four months pregnant for example. Dear readers, I’ve penned this open letter to illuminate the realities of postpartum healing and sex. Take note – there is light at the end of the tunnel!

Dear doctor so-and-so,

Our paths were never meant to cross, but I am so very glad they did.

I met you because my plans went to hell. We were all hooked up with our midwives and their trusty student, and they were going to help us give birth under a glowing rainbow of organic, natural, unicorn poop wonderment. I was going to labour at home, basking in the loving warmth of all three of our mothers, ‘neath the tender gaze of my sweet daughters,  then breeze to the hospital in time for the pushing, where I would deliver our babe without any medical intervention unless it was an emergency.  Life is funny though, isn’t it? I laboured peacefully and serenely for an entire day, and then at about 5cm I decided that everybody was driving me nuts, I wanted to swear like a truck driver and engage in primal screaming, and if I didn’t get some sweet, sweet drugs pumped into my spinal fluid, I was probably going to die.

I think you’re likely younger than me, which I thought was kind of cool. No, that’s a lie. It made me jealous. Even in labour, I was able to reflect on all of the real jobs I could have had if I hadn’t been such an idiot about school. You are pretty, I remember, in a very fresh-faced I’m-blessed-with-Asian-skin-and-I-don’t-need-make-up kind of way. I remember your name, of course, but I didn’t publish it, because I wasn’t sure you’d want to be attached to this post. You seemed really calm, and confident. Assertive, but pleasant. I figured we’d be good together, you and I.

Because I had an epidural, my poor midwives had to turn my care over to you. They seemed disappointed, but after their student tried to insert my IV and sprayed the entire delivery room with my blood, I no longer really cared what they thought. They were being extraordinarily passive, and I needed a firm hand like yours, or like the hand of the wonderful nurse I had in your hospital. Sadly, I don’t remember her name at all.

I saw you three times. First when I arrived on the ward, sweating and screaming in pain, wild-eyed and frightening small children. Then later, when you came to check on my progress, and informed me that I wasn’t pushing hard enough, and finally two hours and forty-five freaking minutes into pushing, when you plunked a pair of shiny forceps down beside my head and warned me that it was my last push before you were going in with them to pull my baby out.

My partners and I did lots of prep leading up to labour, short of studying hypno-birthing. I really believed that there was a way I could prepare myself for an event that I would later realize was the most primal, otherworldly, out-of-control feeling I’ve ever experienced. We even spent lots of time on gentle perineal stretching and massage because I was convinced this would prepare my vagina for the almost nine pound task at hand. A bowling ball weighs ten pounds, which isn’t much heavier than the baby I birthed. I still shudder when I think about that. If you massage an opening the size of a ping pong ball every day for seven years, then try to squeeze a watermelon out of it, the massage ain’t gonna do much.

After that last highly motivated push popped the baby’s head out, and you let me pull out the rest of him (which, by-the-way, was the most satisfying thing I’ve ever done), you let me know that there was a “bit of tearing”. The epidural was more than working, so I had only the briefest sense of disappointment when you started sewing me up. What a surreal thing, to realize someone is stitching up your hoo-ha.

Panic began to seep in as I realized you were taking (what felt like) a very long time. I know I should have been distracted by the happy after-glow and the sweet sensation of holding my brand new baby, but there you were, sewing up my bits. I asked you how bad it was. You said it was a third degree tear (there are 4 degrees of tearing) and you said it would take a while to sew me up, and that it was in my best interest to just let you take your time. Fair enough. I think I briefly wondered if my lady parts would ever work the same again, and then that thought was snuffed from my consciousness for oh…about TWO YEARS!

Listen doc, I’m a pretty liberal gal. I’ve always kind of identified myself as someone who was very comfortable with sex. It’s kind of my thing. I was certain as soon as the few weeks of healing were up, I’d be back in the saddle, so t0 speak.  The sleep deprivation, the physical trauma, the terrifying hormonal emotional roller coaster, the searing pain of my nipple pulverization – sure, these were deterrents to getting my mojo back, but guess what the real killer was?

I couldn’t get past the idea that a person, an-almost-nine-pound, just about the size of a bowling ball person came surging forth from my vagina with such force that they tore me open to the tune of three degrees. Three degrees that you had to spend an hour sewing back together. Night after night of the burning pain of evening sitz baths, I couldn’t feel okay with my vagina anymore.

Steely determination pushed me forward. I’m now in a better place with my sex life. Some days I even feel like my old self. Usually those days come with a couple of cocktails, I won’t lie. My baby is almost two, and I’m only now beginning to think I might be restored to my former glory.

It took a long time before my lady parts physically healed completely. I had read about this, and tried not to be too distressed about the whole thing. The first time I tried to get it on post baby I was terrified. Sex wasn’t impossible, but it wasn’t like it used to be. Certain positions were painful for a long time in a way they never used to be. The pain morphed into a dull, sickening sensation in the pit of my stomach which was decidedly not sexy. Eventually, all the pain went away. Now that I seem to be over that hump (heh) I’ve made an amazing discovery.

Doc, I don’t know what you did in there, but I feel things I’ve never felt before, and I can do things I’ve never been able to do. Here, I’ll say it. My vagina isn’t the same as it used to be. IT’S BETTER! My g-spot is on speed dial, and I have muscle control that I’ve only read about in Penthouse letters. I want to sing it to the highest peaks, and shout it to the lowest valleys. You’ve given my vagina magical powers.

I want every female (and their partners) who is afraid of delivery to know that amazing things can happen post childbirth. I want all of us to take it easy on ourselves, lower our expectations, and try to embrace other ways of connecting with our partners on a physical level as we allow our bodies, minds, and spirits to heal and settle post childbirth. This can take way the hell longer than six to eight weeks, friends.

I can’t thank you enough for whatever mastery you wrought with your deft hands. My post breast-feeding sad pancake breasts and the jiggly pouch of squishy flesh that used to be my tummy were really bumming me out until I realized that my punani had been transformed into a souped-up street racer. You gotta take the good with the bad, and my goods are Tony the Tiger grrreat!

I will respect your anonymity, but say the word and I will add your name to this post. Your practice will be flooded because you are the Grand Poobah of pussy.

With my most sincere gratitude,

Playboy Mommy

 

Too Tired for Sex? Try These Easy Steps.

Lovers, here’s a little secret for you. Over half the women I know who are challenged by maintaining their sex drive tell me that life is too busy to focus on sex. Responsibilities like work, home upkeep, children and pets all seem to get in the way. Often, we are the very last thing on the to-do list, and we’re usually too tired for sex.

What if I told you an active sex life is as important to your body and soul as going to the gym, or yoga, or meditating? Like, other forms of exercise, sexual activity is rejuvenating and restorative and can fill up your energy reservoir. Whether you have a partner to share your sexuality with, or if you are the only one currently enjoying your sexual self, a good hearty helping of orgasmic yum is a vital part of a balanced, happy you.

As I fell out of bed this morning, simultaneously trying to put on some pants and collect a sleepy toddler, the last thing on my mind was feeling sexy, but even in the midst of our busy lives, I think we deserve little reminders of our sensual selves. One of the easiest ways to keep in touch with your mojo is to surround yourself with things that make you feel sexy.

Guys, these simple tips can help you turn your bachelor pad into a serious love shack where your lady friends will feel welcome, and most importantly, at ease. If you’re partnered up, these simple adjustments to your love nest will score major bj points. Ladies,build simple, beautiful reminders of sex into your home, and you just might notice that you’re getting done as frequently as the laundry.

Playboy Mommy’s Top Ten Tips for Sensual Living:

1.) Keep your space clean, and clutter-free.
Relaxation is key to enjoying sexy times. If you devote a couple of short hours each week to a thorough tidy-up (enlisting the other members of your household, particularly any who may want to get it on with you) your space will be filled with harmony, ready for surprise drop-ins at any moment, and a lovely, welcoming place for you to unwind and let loose.

2.) Add flowers to your favorite rooms.
If you or your housemates are free of flower allergies, this is a simple, easy way to romance yourself. Weekend markets offer a wide array of bright, affordable blooms and one of my favorite Saturday rituals is strolling through the market stalls and selecting some fragrant buds to arrange at home. Fellas, choose simple tropical flowers, which are more sculptural and bold than girlie and pretty (Bird of Paradise is a nice choice). If you’re worried that flowers in your man cave may send the wrong message, tell her one of your female colleagues bought them as a thank you gift, and be elusive about the project that you helped said colleague with.

3.) Candles add instant sexy to any space.
Choose simple, neutral colors and quality candles that will burn nicely and not make a huge mess. Scented candles can be lovely too, but not everyone enjoys scented stuff. Sometimes an overpowering fragrance can be a huge buzz kill. A mild vanilla scent is almost always a safe bet because most people love the smell of cookies, unless they are evil.

4.) Pamper!
We just don’t give ourselves enough time to simply luxuriate and pamper ourselves. Men, this goes for you too. Once a week, set aside an hour for yourself to relax in the tub, or have an extra long, steamy shower. Make sure your hands and feet are in great shape. Groom any body hair that needs maintenance. Enjoy your favorite bath and body treatments, and really focus on your skin, and the sensation of your own attention on your body. If you can afford to take more than an hour per week, really max out your time here and enjoy each moment of peace. I often fake constipation so I have a great excuse for prolonged bathroom visits.

5.) Consider set decorating.
One simple, sexy prop strategically placed in your bedroom and bathroom can be all the gentle reminder that you need to maintain your own sense of sensuality. Hang your favorite silk slip or negligée on the back of your bedroom door. Make a date with yourself to sleep in it at least once a week, whether or not you have company. Hand wash your sexiest lingerie and hang it up in the bathroom to be discovered. Spend a lazy Sunday with nothing on but your favorite sexy robe, with a touch of makeup and some attention to your hair, if that makes you feel sexier. If you don’t own lingerie, please, please do yourself a favor and buy a couple of pieces to get started – even if there is no lover immediately on the horizon. Guys, nothing makes a woman crazier than a thick, white, terry cloth robe. Even if you don’t think you’ll ever wear one, buy one ASAP and use it as a prop in your room. Something about these makes us think of steamy hot showers and blow jobs. No joke. Just remember to cut the tags off.

6.) Eat chocolate.
Unless you have an allergy (my condolences) or just aren’t into it (though I’m not sure how that’s possible) you should have a bar of high quality, dark chocolate on hand no matter what. One little square is sometimes all you need to satisfy a craving, at least a sugar craving, and chocolate can come in handy in all kinds of other ways. It’s nice to keep whipping cream on hand all of the time, because you never know when you might need it. On someone’s belly.

7.) Bottoms Up!
Little else beats the perfect cocktail or glass of wine at the end of the work day as you’re unwinding or enjoying dinner. I’m not talking about tying one on, I’m just talking about that savory experience of appreciating your favorite grown-up drink, like those sexy Europeans. There’s even a fair bit of research that indicates moderate drinking can be good for your heart. For you non-drinkers, maybe your grown-up drink of choice is an exotic tea blend. Whatever your choice is, make it into a little ritual where you simply focus on taste, and how that particular liquid makes your body feel.

8.) Read grown up bedtime stories.
Long before I became a writer, I learned to love reading erotica. As tweens, my friends and I would buy second-hand romance novels, the ridiculously over-the-top ones with heaving bosoms and swarthy pirates, and highlight all of the sex scenes. We’d read these to each other at slumber parties with sheer delight. Erotica now has mass appeal, and there really is something for everyone. I recommend this as an alternative to porn, if porn isn’t your thing because it engages the imagination, and really gets your sensual brain in overdrive. The mind is the most important sex organ, and one or two naughty bedtime stories will add spark to your waking life, and weave some seriously yummy themes through your dreaming.

9.) Exercise.
If you want your body to feel alive and sexy, you have to take good care of it. This may seem really obvious, but we often find ourselves so bogged down by work and life that fitness and nutrition take a real back seat to everything else. Make sure you are doing some type of exercise activity each and every day, and take a look at the fuel you are giving your body. I’ve recently been through a total overhaul, and I can’t tell you what a difference it has made to my self-image and sex life. Meowr.

10.) Enjoy solo play dates.
If you don’t masturbate, it’s time to start. Self-love is absolutely essential to a great sex life, and overall wellness, and anyone who tells you any different has some other agenda that you don’t need to concern yourself with. Understanding how your body works and what you enjoy in terms of touch and stimulus is the key to great partner sex. If you don’t masturbate daily, start by promising to explore your own body weekly. Don’t pressure yourself to have an orgasm, just really enjoy the process. The only goal here is to explore and see what your body can teach you.

Even if you can’t implement all ten tips, challenge yourself to try as many as you can. When we take the time to focus on our sensual selves, when we embrace sensuality as part of our daily grind (I couldn’t resist), and we open doors to sensual possibilities that might have otherwise been lost to the daily shuffle. Life is too short to not be a little bit sexy every day.

Our Childhood Fears

The Journal Project

I’m watching Hootsuite very closely because the air is thick and heavy, and there are severe thunderstorm warnings all over the place. In a house with no cable, where we seldom listen to live radio, I’ve realized the only way to keep on top of the weather alerts is via Twitter. I learned this last summer when I watched a funnel cloud start to rotate  while looking out my kitchen window, only to realize after turning to Twitter that a tornado ALERT had been issued for our area. Not a watch. Not a warning. An alert!

I’ve been afraid of thunderstorms, particularly tornadoes, since I was very small. I thought that adulthood and reason had kind of diminished this fear, but when faced with a tornado alert and a house full of sleeping children, my fear was catapulted to the surface again. That night I stocked the basement with water, blankets, shoes, flashlights, and other emergency type things, and I fought to keep the panic at bay. Some things never change, but at least as an adult, I felt like I could do something to protect myself and my family.

Today, with The Journal Project, we explore childhood fears. Use the prompts below to guide your writing, and share with us here. My own entry is italicized below.

 

4. Fears from my Childhood

 

Do you have any fears that linger from when you were very young? What are they?

I’m really afraid of the possibility of experiencing a tornado.

 

Can you recall the first time you remember feeling this fear? Describe your age, and the circumstances surrounding your being afraid.

I remember being afraid of a tornado during the first thunderstorm I experienced post Wizard of Oz. I suspect the fear started before that, but at around six or seven I recall being terrified any time there was a thunderstorm. I would cry, and try to hide, and the thunder made me cover my ears and tense up like a nervous cat.

 

How has your fear changed as you’ve grown up?

Knowledge was power for me as a kid in facing this fear. I read a dramatized version of the Edmonton tornado as told from the perspective of a tween, and then did a lot of my own research about tornadoes. Understanding them, and learning about tornado safety really helped me deal with my fear.

As an adult, in the city, it was easier to feel less threatened by the elements with the shelter of tall buildings all around. Now, in the country surrounded by open fields and forest, I witness the power of thunderstorms like I never have before, and I feel afraid again. Last week a tree across the street got struck by lightning and it was absolutely terrifying.

 

Describe the events/circumstances that stir this fear up.

Spring and summer weather events. The nighttime thunderstorm is the worst.

 

How do you deal with this fear when it comes to the surface?

I consult a bit obsessively with Twitter to discover weather alerts. I close up the windows to diminish the noise. I keep sturdy shoes near by, and flashlights. I try to breathe and stay calm so that the kids don’t develop their own fears.

 

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Entries from our Journaling Community

“I had/have a fear of apes, monkeys, any primates.

I was probably 6 or 7 when this fear began. I wonder if it’s related to a movie, like King King, although I don’t remember watching that movie. I also remember being at a small zoo and watching some apes throw their feces at one another and then at the glass we were standing behind. They were baring their teeth chasing each other and screaming.

I think the fear peaked when I was at Universal Studios. My mother would not let me wait outside alone while the others rode the king Kong ride. I sobbed and hid through the whole experience.

I think I am much calmer about this fear now although I avoid apes and monkeys at zoos and in the media. I no longer cry though. Now it’s more disdain than anything else. People laugh at me when I share this fear and tease me. We’re all afraid of something though; even if it does seem silly!”