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"Tonight was to be the first night of my amazing sex journey. The perfectionist in me would have preferred fresh cut flowers and a room at the Ritz, but the realist in me settled for a clean bedroom.  With this in mind, I scanned my surroundings with the eagle eye of a CSI investigator. What I saw was unsettling to say the least. My sleeping quarters had morphed into The Kid Zone. As much as the pile of Dora the Explorer underwear and Scooby-Doo flash cards screamed, &amp;quot;Take me to your love chamber,&amp;quot; a small makeover was in order. One might even call it a &amp;quot;quickie makeover.&amp;quot; The first thing I did was remove all kid objects from the immediate vicinity. Except for their cute little mugs on the wall, no signs of tiny life forms were to be had. Floors were swept, laundry thrown in a basket, and what appeared to be a two-month old apple (or maybe it was a pear... hard to tell) was disposed of. By the time I was done, it actually looked like adults inhabited the space. Nary a &amp;quot;Sesame&amp;quot; nor a &amp;quot;Street&amp;quot; was in sight.  The next step? Make the bed. Normally this entails throwing Rex&amp;#039;s bachelor quilt under the duvet and giving the double layers a quick pat-pat, hoping the sheets underneath don&amp;#039;t poke out more than one inch over the sippy-cup stained dust ruffle. (That&amp;#039;s why I&amp;#039;m writing about sex -- not cleaning -- for Good Housekeeping), but unlike my sex life, I&amp;#039;m not complaining about it.) I methodically changed the bedding. I lovingly adjusted the shams. I even put a little love note on Rex&amp;#039;s pillow for good measure: &amp;quot;Just do it before I change my mind.&amp;quot; (I&amp;#039;m a smart ass that way.) Instead of emailing my computer geek husband mid-day to remind him of a week&amp;#039;s worth of kid events, I had Microsoft Outlook request a bedroom meeting at 9PM. Not surprisingly, the response back was immediate: &amp;quot;Attendee Accepts.&amp;quot;  When my husband came home for dinner tonight, he had an extra spring in his step. We both did. The evening felt different. The dinner hour was more enjoyable. The hot dogs tasted better. The kids&amp;#039; bedtime routine was less taxing. We worked as a team. We were not frazzled parents. We were super heroes on a mission for love! At 9PM sharp my husband crawled into our freshly made bed. As I freshened up in the bathroom, I heard a laugh. (He must have read the note.) Then I heard a thump as his bathrobe hit the floor. (He obviously wasn&amp;#039;t phased by my joke.) Then I heard a click. (The lights went out.) Then he heard a groan from the bathroom. And it wasn&amp;#039;t the good kind. I got my period. Ain&amp;#039;t that always the way? "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a2010/sex-blog-period/>