Elmo is Killing My Sex Life

Sex after having kids — it’s amazing how often that topic appears in magazines, books and blog posts, considering how infrequently it actually occurs.  As for sex when you’re pregnant and trying to maintain a semblance of a career and have a toddler to chase after?  Yeah, okay, I’ll put that on my list of high-priority things to do.  Right after “offer to iron all of my neighbors’ clothes.”

Thankfully, my husband is a patient and understanding man who has resigned himself to enjoying the occasional brush-by and feigning enthusiasm for bedtime snuggling.  I know, right?  Snuggling!  No man should be reduced to that.  So you can imagine how thrilled he was when our Valentine’s Day evening was spent indulging in, um, lower snuggling.  Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.  In the midst of Mr. Candy’s very rare and, I must add, very nice Valentine’s Day “treat,” we hear this:


We pretend we don’t hear it.


We pause for a moment, make a weird face, resume “snuggling.”


What the hell?  Is she SITTING on that thing? I ask, rolling over.

Oh yes.  I had made the mistake of putting Elmo with Skye in her crib, the very same Elmo who professes his love every time you press his hand.  With one volume setting:  FREAKING LOUD.  The very same Elmo that Skye knows how to turn on, even in the dark.  Oh yes.  That Elmo, whose yapping, further amplified by the baby monitor on my desk, was a total mood kill.  Without offering up too many details, I will just say that we did not let Elmo put the kibosh on my “gift” to Mr. Candy.  However, Elmo was equally determined, refusing to shut up the ENTIRE TIME.





Our afterglow talk was about as romantic as you would expect.

MR. CANDY:  That may’ve been even worse than the time my dad called and we could hear him talking on the answering machine.

ME:  I’ve got to write about this in my column.

I eventually sent Mr. Candy on the very dangerous mission of extracting Elmo from Skye’s crib, in fear that the talkative red monster would wake her up.  When my smooth criminal of a husband successfully returned with the furry contraband, he informed me that our daughter had been using Elmo as a pillow.

Lesson learned:  Buy the kid a pillow.  At least in time for Mr. Candy’s next holiday “gift” — yeah, that’s right, it’s going to be a VERY happy Columbus Day around here!

Because sharing is caring, as I tell my kids. (Except my wine. Never my wine.)
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Candy Kirby

Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

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