We’ve all read the posts and heard the daily revolving news stations citing that scientific evidence proves sex is good for the mind, body and soul. Furthermore we’ve all, at one time or another, been advised that sex can reduce stress. I comprehend the argument here but only up to a certain point.

When your daily routine within your family home becomes a redundant reminder that your spouse, kids, bills and taxes are pressurized responsibilities all of which we want to satisfy, often of which the stress actually reduces sex. I personally feel like my wife and children deserve more than the usual routine, but unfortunately life often throws us lemons that lack  vodka. As my readers are now far more than familiar with, I would like to offer you an example of what I’m implying only as counter evidence to the fact that sex reduces stress, and it is rather the stress that has the ability to completely eradicate an intimate encounter with your spouse. I believe that any parent living under the constant pressure of family life grapples with their intimate life, or as in my case find that stress can even result in the imminent eruptions of fissures in your ass.

10 phases of stress that can eliminate the golden goose in just one day.

1. You wake up earlier than the family in order to achieve a stress free morning by virtue of prepping the children’s needs to make the bus on time. Your wife has a long workday ahead and you are able to show her some love with offering her peace to get ready on this morning. The children slowly begin to awake and immediately commence arguing about why one should use the toilet before the other. My oldest son accuses his little brother of peeing all over the toilet seat, to which my younger son replies “I always pee on the seat so that you won’t use the toilet in the morning because it always smells worse than a stink bomb and I don’t own a gas mask……..you dipshit”. When the cursing begins this early, my blood starts to boil as a first reaction and I yell up the stairs with “watch your mouth this instant”. This is phase one on the tress indicator.
2. My daughters come downstairs and sit at the counter to take 3 bites of their cereal which always ensues with my comment in a reprimanding tone “if you guys keep wasting cereal and milk then you won’t have any at all for the next month”. They ignore me as they are now solely focused on what type of lunch I am packing them for school. My oldest daughter notices that I may have perhaps packed her little sister a chocolate chip cookie with more chocolate chips than I packed for her-  as if I purposely positioned myself as a cohort with the fucking Chips Ahoy company for just this precise moment in my life. Yes, I have taken an enormous amount of time out of my crazy schedule just to coordinate a chocolate chip conspiracy against one of my own children. After threatening my oldest daughter to cease the personal attacks of what an inconsiderate father I am for always spoiling “the baby(our youngest daughter)”, she backs off in fear of losing her cookie altogether. Phase two.
3. As the morning progresses and nears the 7:45 am bus pickup, I check emails on my phone and have received the 4th reminder that one of our many bills are due this month. Ok, let’s see. At this point in our lives we choose the lesser of two evils. Since the kids all have dentist appointments coming up we’ll spread the dough for that instead of the credit card company that calls us 20 times a day- I love answering them when I’m sitting on the “throne” and accentuate the noises that would be quite reminiscent of a mad bull giving birth to an enormous calf. Yes, this does give me some pleasurable relief- dual wise. Phase three.
4. In the duration of time it took me to get my kids out of the house my wife has prepped herself for her work day. I have a coffee ready for her and I’m convinced that the great start to her day may result in a great ending of the day for both of us. Such a mind frame is all too naive however. Something always occurs. Just as we are finally having that first “adult” discussion of the day, one of the children pops back in the door, full of frozen tears and covered in snow. “What happened?” I asked. The child then explains how she was ganged up on by her siblings and ultimately paid the price by falling in the deep snow. She explains that boarding the bus in tears was not the preferred option. I feel bad for her, so I adjust the morning schedule just a tad to work around the issue. And, I get suckered into packing her an extra chocolate chip cookie under the premise that she doesn’t reveal our little secret to her siblings later on. Oh how that one comes back to bite me in the sac. Phase # to be advised later.
5. As my wife leaves for work I’m given one simple task of mailing an envelope with pertinence to be sent within the day. As I’m not working on this day it shouldn’t be an issue. Yet, no sooner does she leave the driveway that I begin to receive calls that beckon me to dive into the clerical mess of our bills, school activities, future work obligations etc etc, not to mention the taxes which I have opted to tackle on my own this year.
6. Fast forward to the kids arriving home from school that afternoon- an all too often bittersweet moment. The peace and quiet will end imminently and the clean house I labored over is about to be destroyed in a matter of minutes. Usually my children come home, drop all of their belongings not excluding jackets and backpacks and head straight for the cupboard to seek out a snack. I beg them over and over to first empty their lunchboxes, and they repeatedly reply with the two following phrases in an arrogant tone, or even as if they are annoyed with my simple request: “hold on”, or “just a minute”. These two phrases nearly transform me into a child killer these days as the expression is a constant default every time my kids are uninterested to comply with their instructions. Yet I remind myself that I do love them and I’m glad to have them home safely. Its just that I don’t like them right now.Phase four.
7. After the children, mind you I have four of them, scatter to and fro amongst the home, they leave paths of destruction. The tornadoes they invoke whilst portraying utter indifference ramp up my blood pressure and cause my inner demons to arise. The dishes are all over the kitchen, crumbs leading to the toilet where my middle son is now currently fully naked for his usual pooping ritual, sitting like a king with half of a muffin protruding from his mouth. In a loathed demeanor I simply glance at him in a manner that hopefully conveys enough meaning for him to appreciate finishing the fucking muffin before wiping himself. I turn to other duties- no pun intended. Phase 5.
8. I have managed to salvage much of the clean home I once recognized earlier in the day before my children’s grand entrance, and my wife looks rather pleased with the state of affairs upon her arrival. Dinner is just about ready and we all sit down to eat as a family- a rare commodity these days. We enjoy just a few laughs until my wife asks my oldest son how his grades are developing, and he replies with “whatever”. Shit. Here goes. When my oldest son refuses to give direct answers and only marches forward with “whatever”, we all know damn well that much more lies behind the secret curtain. Eventually we discover that his performance is less than what we require and therefore we must confiscate his Iphone. He curses at the prospect of this form of punishment, and to make matters worse my middle son decides to chime in, proclaiming that his brother is a “biatch”.  As we reprimand them both we notice that my oldest daughter is attempting to seize the diversion of our focus on the boys as an opportunity to clean most of her unfinished plate into the garbage. Thus we must now turn to her and explain the whole routine about “why money doesn’t grow on trees and that good/healthy food is extremely expensive, for the 500th time. Phase 6
9. As the children are finally clearing the table after our 5th request, of course only out of fear to losing their ipads or kindles for the evening, my wife asks me whether I sent the envelope earlier. Damn it! Although the stress of my day and surely hers was still not at the point of return, the damned envelope didn’t help matters- for both of us. While my wife was correct that my day’s schedule should not have barred me from driving to the post office, I also felt like after dealing with all the little things of the day, including the kids, it was good enough reason to have the issue slip my mind. phase 7
10. My wife and I are now both exhausted and anxious for the children to retire for the evening. My wife asks the kids if they have brushed their teeth and to please head for bed. An HOUR later they have finally all complied with their dental obligations and ultimately landed on their beds. For the following hour they persist in back and forth antagonizing comments to each other . My middle son yells over to his big brother’s room “Your’re gay”, to which big brother ensues with “you’re a little pussy.” On the other side I hear my oldest daughter ask her little sister “stop singing”, to which little sister sings back “stop singing”- this goes in circles for about 20 minutes until one of them gives in or I make pounding footstep noises as though I’m coming upstairs to murder them. Phase 8
11. My oldest daughter calls to me from her bed and asks why I packed her little sister the extra cookie that morning. Ughhh…. Another 10 minutes of whining about how I only care for my youngest daughter and hate my other children. In my head I’m screaming “ITS JUST A F’N COOKIE!!!”. Actually wait a minute. Maybe it wasn’t just in my head. Phase 9
12. My wife and I, drained of energy, knowing full well that it starts all over again tomorrow with only one difference; I go to work and she stays home handling the load. We sit back, take a deep sigh, turn on the TV with the last bit of Chi we can muster, and via non-verbal communication we reach the mutual understanding that there will be no sex for Daddy tonight. Phase 10