Sunday, April 29, 2007
How To Make A Spanko
Whilst at work the other day, I was having a polite conversation with one of my nosier co-workers. This was actually a woman approaching sixty whom I did not know all that well. She was asking some general, conversational, getting-to-know-you type questions when she inquired as to whether I had any offspring. I indicated that I had two daughters, one who was a junior in college and one that was a freshman in high school.
“That is quite a difference in ages,” she responded. “Was the younger one an ‘accident?’” she asked with a wink.
I found the question very nosy. I was tempted to tell the woman just exactly what I thought of her effrontery, but instead opted to hold my tongue. Rather, I told her that Colette, my youngest, was not an accident but indeed a planned, expected, and quite welcome addition to our family.
Colette was very certainly welcome. The planned and expected part is slightly more complicated.
Maribel’s birth was expected from the onset. Angela and I felt it was time to start a family, the doctor determined that Angela was perfectly healthy, we had sex, Angela became pregnant, and nine months later, give or take a few days, she delivered a healthy, bouncing baby Maribel.
Fast forward about four years. We began to discuss the idea of bringing forth a second child. We both agreed that it was what we wanted, but the time never seemed right. First it was we had just bought a new house. Then Maribel was starting school. Then we needed a new car. Then Angela was starting a new job. I was starting to wonder if Maribel was destined to be an only child.
When Maribel was about six, Angela began showing symptoms of a condition often referred to as PMS, although Angela began calling it “the devil in my (vaginal region).” (I prefer not to use the term that Angela chose for “vaginal region,” cultured person that I am). The first thing that the doctor had her do was to stop taking her birth control pills. Curiously, this seemed to relieve the condition. I had never heard a woman having this kind of reaction to birth control medication, but strange things can occur when you don’t really exist.
The intention was for Angela to perhaps try a new birth control medication. However, we had hit something of a lull in our sex lives. We were both working and Maribel was in school. I would leave for work (I was not working from home at the time) at a ridiculously early hour, Angela would see Maribel off to school, and I would be home to see our daughter safely home. As a result, I also would be seeking my slumber at a ridiculously early hour, usually well before Angela. Since I can be cranky when woken, we had few times when we were both conscious enough for marital relations. Since Angela was feeling well, we therefore decided that, for the short term, we would use a combination of condoms and the rhythm method.
Now, it should be pointed out that Spakowiaks are not especially known for their rhythm.
Some weeks later, Angela and I found ourselves awake and naked late one evening, after the child had been put to her rest. We began to partake in the usual activity that two horny people will frequently partake in whilst naked. When it came time to, shall we say, “engage,” I reached for the handy box of condoms in the nightstand. However, I found the box empty.
I related this bit of information to Angela. Her response:
“I don’t care! Just fuck me! Now!”
I truly despise disappointing my lovely wife, especially when she is naked. I happily obliged her, without giving any thought to where we might be in terms of rhythm.
The next part of the story is probably predictable. Perhaps a month later, Angela informed me that she had a doctor’s appointment. When I inquired as to the nature of the appointment, she responded, “I think I’m pregnant.” Since Angela had, to my knowledge, been pregnant only one other time in her life, I asked her what aroused this notion.
“I feel just like I did the last time I was pregnant,” she said.
No further explanation was necessary. Indeed, a medical opinion was not really required, either, as I was quite certain what its outcome would be. When she returned from the doctor, she informed me that, sure enough, she was truly carrying the early stages of life.
That evening, after much nervousness, we sent the little Maribel off to bed, and sat down to discuss this latest development. Angela hemmed and hawed for a fair amount of time while I sat, expressionless. At last, she got to the heart of the matter.
“What do you think we should do?” she asked.
“Well,” I began. “We HAVE been talking about having another baby. We were only waiting until the time was right.”
I paused, reading the anxiety in Angela’s face.
“And, my dear, it appears that the time is indeed right.”
The smile that exploded on Angela’s face almost blinded me with it’s intensity. She launched herself towards me and swallowed me up in a most massive embrace. She was so immensely happy that she took my hand and took me up to the bedroom, where we proceeded to make love again, this time with no concern towards condoms, rhythm, or any other method of birth control.
Alas, that love-making session did not end quite so pleasantly as the one previously described. One of the symptoms that Angela develops during the early stages of pregnancy is a tendency to become ill when engaging in sex. The sound of her barfing, though, was like music to my ears, as it served to completely confirm the fact that there would soon be another Spanko in the world.
So you can see that, while we were planning on having a second child, and her arrival was truly welcome, her conception was not entirely expected. It was no mistake or accident, though. It was, in a word, fantastic.
“That is quite a difference in ages,” she responded. “Was the younger one an ‘accident?’” she asked with a wink.
I found the question very nosy. I was tempted to tell the woman just exactly what I thought of her effrontery, but instead opted to hold my tongue. Rather, I told her that Colette, my youngest, was not an accident but indeed a planned, expected, and quite welcome addition to our family.
Colette was very certainly welcome. The planned and expected part is slightly more complicated.
Maribel’s birth was expected from the onset. Angela and I felt it was time to start a family, the doctor determined that Angela was perfectly healthy, we had sex, Angela became pregnant, and nine months later, give or take a few days, she delivered a healthy, bouncing baby Maribel.
Fast forward about four years. We began to discuss the idea of bringing forth a second child. We both agreed that it was what we wanted, but the time never seemed right. First it was we had just bought a new house. Then Maribel was starting school. Then we needed a new car. Then Angela was starting a new job. I was starting to wonder if Maribel was destined to be an only child.
When Maribel was about six, Angela began showing symptoms of a condition often referred to as PMS, although Angela began calling it “the devil in my (vaginal region).” (I prefer not to use the term that Angela chose for “vaginal region,” cultured person that I am). The first thing that the doctor had her do was to stop taking her birth control pills. Curiously, this seemed to relieve the condition. I had never heard a woman having this kind of reaction to birth control medication, but strange things can occur when you don’t really exist.
The intention was for Angela to perhaps try a new birth control medication. However, we had hit something of a lull in our sex lives. We were both working and Maribel was in school. I would leave for work (I was not working from home at the time) at a ridiculously early hour, Angela would see Maribel off to school, and I would be home to see our daughter safely home. As a result, I also would be seeking my slumber at a ridiculously early hour, usually well before Angela. Since I can be cranky when woken, we had few times when we were both conscious enough for marital relations. Since Angela was feeling well, we therefore decided that, for the short term, we would use a combination of condoms and the rhythm method.
Now, it should be pointed out that Spakowiaks are not especially known for their rhythm.
Some weeks later, Angela and I found ourselves awake and naked late one evening, after the child had been put to her rest. We began to partake in the usual activity that two horny people will frequently partake in whilst naked. When it came time to, shall we say, “engage,” I reached for the handy box of condoms in the nightstand. However, I found the box empty.
I related this bit of information to Angela. Her response:
“I don’t care! Just fuck me! Now!”
I truly despise disappointing my lovely wife, especially when she is naked. I happily obliged her, without giving any thought to where we might be in terms of rhythm.
The next part of the story is probably predictable. Perhaps a month later, Angela informed me that she had a doctor’s appointment. When I inquired as to the nature of the appointment, she responded, “I think I’m pregnant.” Since Angela had, to my knowledge, been pregnant only one other time in her life, I asked her what aroused this notion.
“I feel just like I did the last time I was pregnant,” she said.
No further explanation was necessary. Indeed, a medical opinion was not really required, either, as I was quite certain what its outcome would be. When she returned from the doctor, she informed me that, sure enough, she was truly carrying the early stages of life.
That evening, after much nervousness, we sent the little Maribel off to bed, and sat down to discuss this latest development. Angela hemmed and hawed for a fair amount of time while I sat, expressionless. At last, she got to the heart of the matter.
“What do you think we should do?” she asked.
“Well,” I began. “We HAVE been talking about having another baby. We were only waiting until the time was right.”
I paused, reading the anxiety in Angela’s face.
“And, my dear, it appears that the time is indeed right.”
The smile that exploded on Angela’s face almost blinded me with it’s intensity. She launched herself towards me and swallowed me up in a most massive embrace. She was so immensely happy that she took my hand and took me up to the bedroom, where we proceeded to make love again, this time with no concern towards condoms, rhythm, or any other method of birth control.
Alas, that love-making session did not end quite so pleasantly as the one previously described. One of the symptoms that Angela develops during the early stages of pregnancy is a tendency to become ill when engaging in sex. The sound of her barfing, though, was like music to my ears, as it served to completely confirm the fact that there would soon be another Spanko in the world.
So you can see that, while we were planning on having a second child, and her arrival was truly welcome, her conception was not entirely expected. It was no mistake or accident, though. It was, in a word, fantastic.
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