This week, a teacher who aspires to be a skin-care influencer: 33, married, Long Island.
6:30 a.m. I hear my oldest daughter moving around in her room. That means I have about four minutes to cuddle with my husband. I LOVE being in his arms. We’ve been together for ten years and the romance and sex is still super hot.
7 a.m. Both kids are up. I’m making lunches and getting breakfast on the table. My husband is playing with them. What I love most about my husband is that he never complains. It would be easy to be in a foul mood right now — house is messy, breakfast is chaotic, I have to be at work in an hour, etc. But I’m not. I’m just … happy.
8 a.m. My husband takes the kids to preschool and day care, respectively, on most days. He’s a cop but the kind that works in an office, more or less, so he has great hours and I don’t have to be nervous like most Cop Wives. I’m a first-grade teacher at a public school in town. My side gig is selling skin care, and I’m also really working on my online presence in the beauty community. I only have about 4,000 followers but I’ve only been doing this for about two years.
4 p.m. I pick up my kids on the way home from school. (Most days they’re covered until 6 p.m. but not Mondays.) Hubby is working until later tonight. We get fast food from Burger King on the way home — it’s not a regular thing but today I’m in the mood.
7:30 p.m. Both my kids are sleeping so I take a shower to wake up.
8 p.m. I do a face-mask demonstration story on Instagram. I love seeing the “likes” pop up. I sent some videos of my little photo shoot to my husband, who’s still at work. He sends me back a dick pic from under his desk. Then another one …
9 p.m. I masturbate thinking about my husband and am asleep by 9:30 p.m.
7 a.m. I have to be at school early today because it’s conference day. My husband says he’ll do all the kid-prep because I have to leave. But first … as I’m walking out the door, he lifts my skirt up, pulls my tights down, and we have sex quickly against our front door. Our kids are watching Dora the Explorer, I think.
7:30 a.m. I’m grinning ear to ear on the way to school. My husband and I met on the Long Island Rail Road ten years ago when we were both coming back from partying in the city. He was with friends; I was with friends. I knew I’d marry him right away and I did, about two years later. We’ve never had any big issues (besides typical money stresses and parenting exhaustion) and we’ve always had great sex. We do it about four times a week these days.
3:30 p.m. I’m doing groceries and other errands. It’s always a grind. It’s hard to be a working mom and also a mom who does all the shopping, cooking, and cleaning, but I haven’t cracked yet … One thing is for sure, I don’t have much time for myself. It’s been months since I went out with friends or had a “me day.”
I guess I wish my husband helped out more around the house but he’s pretty old school, and thinks it’s a woman’s job. I’m old school too … so I can get over it pretty quickly. Did I mention we’re both Italian? Both our parents were immigrants. Having that in common has been crucial to our marriage. We understand almost everything about each other.
6:30 p.m. The whole family is eating dinner together. Yay! My favorite. Even though my son has thrown what looks like an entire lasagna on the ground. Really, our entire floor is covered in red sauce. He’s 2, and a terror but my daughter, who is 3, has always been easy and an angel. She helps me clean it up.
8:30 p.m. Kids are in bed. I make my husband put some new men’s product on his face and then I post some pictures of him on Instagram. When random women comment that they think he’s sexy, I just melt. It turns me on so much! I already know he’s sexy but when the sentiment comes from other women, I just want to get him right into bed … which is what I do as soon as I finish posting.
9:30 p.m. I’m on top. It’s my favorite. I come very, very powerfully. Then we have sex in a few more weird positions that he bends me into. He eventually comes from missionary.
8:30 a.m. At work, I scroll through to see all the comments about my hot husband. I love reading them so much it makes me wonder what that says about myself? I think I would be a jealous bitch if anyone actually DM’ed him or anything — but in our ten years together, I’ve never really had to deal with that. If I’m being honest, I think it’s because I have sex with my man. He always comes home to me. He never strays. He never even looks.
3:30 p.m. I’m home indulging in my favorite guilty pleasure: reality TV. I catch up on all my favorite Bravo! shows until 6 p.m. when I have to get my kids. Thank you Jesus for this moment.
7:45 p.m. Kids are asleep. Husband will be home soon.
10:30 p.m. We watched some basketball together and now I’m riding him on the couch. I ride him until I come and then he has us get on the floor and do some kind of doggy-type, from-behind position … I don’t really know my sex-position terminology.
8:30 a.m. Is this week over yet? I got an extra large Starbucks this morning.
3:30 p.m. My parents and brothers are coming over for dinner on Friday night (tomorrow) so I drive a few towns over to get the ingredients I want. A few good cheeses, some manicotti, etc. I’m not an amazing cook like my mother but I do enjoy eating, and I have a high standard for food, that’s for sure.
6 p.m. My husband picks my kids up because I’ve been cooking all afternoon. He tells me he’s meeting some guys out after we have dinner. I’m a little upset about this because I was hoping we could watch a movie together and cuddle, but something happened at work and they all want to have beers and talk about it. I try not to get in the way of that Cop Code they have.
9 p.m. I sext my husband every few minutes, just to make sure he’s paying attention. I wonder if he’s showing the guys the pictures of me touching myself. I don’t really care if he does. He writes back pretty quickly each time, which is what I like to see. My sexts are really like little tests to make sure he’s missing me and focused on no one and nothing else besides what’s waiting for him in his bedroom.
10:30 pm. I can’t keep my eyes open so I fall asleep, even though I really wanted to wait up and hear what happened tonight and what the work situation was.
10:45 p.m. As I’m dozing off, I hear him pull into our garage. I want to rally but I can’t. Good night!
8:30 a.m. No one loves Fridays more than a teacher. I’m counting the seconds until I can go home, pull my house together, and get cooking for our dinner party with everyone tonight. Did I mention it’s my big brother’s 50th birthday? I love my brothers; I have three of them. I’m the youngest. We grew up very, very, very close and still are. The only issue is I don’t love who any of them married. I just find all their wives to be cold and a little too cool for school. They aren’t great to my parents and certainly don’t give much love to me. I think all my brothers could have done better, but that’s just me.
5 p.m. I’m cooking and cleaning like a crazy person. My husband knows to get the kids as soon as his work is done. Everyone is showing up at 6:30 p.m. My parents will be starving.
6:30 p.m. Well, I did the best I could do. My kids are messy — my son with green boogers everywhere and my daughter looking like someone threw up on her dress at school — but I have to get dinner on the table and be a gracious hostess. I could ask my husband to change my kids into nicer attire but to be honest … I don’t think he knows where their clothes are.
7 p.m. The food is out. My kids are being bad, so I have my husband put them in front of the TV. I want some decorum so I can toast my brother. I tell him how lucky I am to have him and that the world is a better, safer place because of him. I choke up a little saying this. (My brother was a firefighter so he’s been through a lot.) I feel very emotional, and with me, once I start crying, I cry for hours, so I wrap it up quickly and we all get back to the food. My parents seem really happy and definitely well fed. I’m super relieved.
10 p.m. I kid you not, I crawl up the stairwell to my bed. No sex tonight. No way!
6:30 a.m. Dear Lord, just let me sleep in this Saturday! Nope. Both kids are fussing and don’t give a crap that it’s the weekend. My husband is sleeping in. Good for him. He’ll let me sleep in tomorrow. That’s how we usually do it. Sunday is the only day he’s a little bit of a Mister Mom. He’s not very good at it but at least he tries, and really, all he has to do is keep the kids alive.
8:30 a.m. I put on some Disney movie and hope my kids will not need a single thing from me for the entire 90 minutes.
9 a.m. Second pot of coffee. My husband wakes up. He tells me to go back to bed but I’ve already drank so much damn coffee. I remind him that I’ll sleep late tomorrow. We gossip a little about the dinner last night and my bitch sisters-in-law. My husband gets a kick out of my attitude toward them. He likes when I’m sassy, I think. We sneak back into our bedroom.
9:30 a.m. We have to keep our door open in case there’s an issue downstairs but we have very, very quiet sex, which is very, very hot. He comes inside of me and because I’m ovulating (I know this because I track my cycle in my calendar), I get a funny feeling that he just got me pregnant. We’d both be okay with that, but we’re not in any rush to have a third kid. We definitely want more though.
3 p.m. We go to a local mall, which is quite a depressing place, but it’s something to do. On the way home, we decide to get pizza out. I’m so fucking happy not to have to cook or clean tonight.
5 p.m. Fun pizza dinner. Lots of laughs. Kids are being monsters but cute monsters.
9 p.m. Since we had sex earlier and I’m really tired, I have no shame about going to bed at this ridiculously early hour.
9 a.m. I slept in! Twelve hours of sleep, baby. I’d like to sleep the entire day, frankly. But I walk out of the bedroom and feel like a new person.
10 a.m. We take the kids to a local park, and pick up donuts along the way. Kids are wild maniacs but the donuts are delicious. My husband puts his arms around me as we take in the chaos together. I kiss him and taste the chocolate donut on his lips.
3:30 p.m. We visit with my in-laws every Sunday. They’re wonderful people. They can’t help up too much with the kids because they’re much older, which is frustrating, but what can you do. They put out a great Sunday supper. It’s a tradition that I love and cherish. We always take home tons of leftovers, which is even better, and makes my husband very, very, very happy when he can pack them for lunch the next day.
6:30 p.m. While I’m bathing the kids, my husband brings me a glass of red wine. What a nice way to end the weekend. This will make bedtime a little less treacherous.
7:30 p.m. Kids are asleep and I’m on my second glass. We cuddle up on the couch and out of the blue, I turn to my husband and say, “Do you want a blow job?” Obviously, he says yes.
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