I skip school mum socials for sex with my husband — we do it more now than in our 20s

Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger.

This week we hear from Marla*, a 41-year-old writer and mum-of-four from London, who has been with her husband since she was 25.

Marla says the pair are busting the myth that kids equal a sexless marriage. In fact, they have sex four to five times a week on average which ‘is way more sex’ than they had before they became parents.

‘I don’t want to pretend every sexual encounter we have could inspire sensuous, (preferably female-directed), erotica, because that’s definitely not the case,’ says Marla.

‘But I’m also happy that the narrative that your sex life disintegrates after children doesn’t have to be true.

‘For me, sex is also about self-discovery. We got together young and my experiences before my husband were all pretty vanilla. For example, I thought I would hate anal sex and find it painful, but we added that to our repertoire one night and I loved it so much that I now find myself initiating it every few months.

‘I’m thinking 2024 might be the year we go to a sex party together.’

So, without any further ado, here’s how she got on this week…

Monday

With four kids, weekends are non-stop – in a good way, but it’s just not conducive to sex the next day. Mondays don’t feel like a fresh start after a relaxing weekend; once the kids go to school, I try to start on my writing work first thing, but my brain is fried.

This is unfortunate considering I have two articles and an interview to manage today.

A therapy session I have is amazing and really useful, but takes a lot out of me emotionally, which also makes the possibility of sex less likely. And it’s only 11am.

No surprise then, that tonight ends a sexless wasteland, me crawling into bed at 9pm. Two of my kids are still awake (their dad took them to a cricket coaching session and they got home at 8pm), and it’s the two who share the room next to ours, so that’s another nail in the potential-for-intercourse coffin.

Tuesday

Recently, I’ve been getting intense hormonal symptoms each month (headaches, breast tenderness) which make me feel totally unsexy. Today, my stomach hurts and my digestive system is acting up, so I don’t even need to check my Moody app to know that something’s going on in my cycle.

My husband went to Paris for work and gives me a nudge-nudge, wink-wink when he snuggles into bed next to me at 10pm-ish… but it is a hard pass from me.

Sex with an aching tummy holds zero appeal.

Instead of getting it on, I tell my husband all about my symptoms. (Bonus of married life: you get to talk to someone about all the gross and embarrassing things happening to you.) I’m happy I’m communicating with him and can be so honest.

Equally, I feel anxious about my body symptoms and their impact on my mental health. Last year I had a back injury for months, and our sex life – and, as a consequence, my mood – took a hit.

I start watching a Christmas movie on Netflix and relax to sleep quickly.

Wednesday

It’s date night. I am so excited to have some 1:1 time with my hubby. Except, I’m still behind on work assignments after a child was home last week and I have an article due first thing tomorrow – when I’m supposed to be taking another child to visit a school – so I tell him I have to cancel.

I promise some mind-blowing sexual antics the next day. Bells, whistles, lingerie… ‘I’ll make it worth your while,’ I whisper into his ear, attempting to sound seductive as my fingers tap away frantically on my laptop.

No sex tonight, but my mind is buzzing when I get into bed at 11pm. My husband is asleep, so it’s me and my hand for some self-pleasure.

My mind races at night and sometimes the only way I can get to bed is with a bit of TLC… although often, it’s more for the mental release than the physical one.

Thursday

Today is one of those insanely overscheduled days where I see about 10 people, take a bunch of trains, do work in between and then have two evening school-related events I am supposed to go to.

Since our lives are so hectic, with both of us working alongside raising the kids, I often prioritise sex over a social engagement – I’m too exhausted to manage both.

I skip the school stuff, put on some lingerie which looks like something Xena: Warrior Princess might dress in, and I’m delighted when my husband started kissing my nipples and asks if he can eat me out (the best way for me to come).

Sex follows – missionary, but it’s great – and not at all surprisingly, I don’t regret missing the mums’ social/school info evening at all.

I need emotional connection to really enjoy sex, and I think that’s why our sex life feels better over the years. My body has changed, my moods are up and down, but my husband still sees me the way I’d love to be seen and knows exactly which buttons to push/kiss/lick.

Friday

Disaster: I discover a moth larva in my younger kids’ room and a patch of carpet the moths had eaten. I also learn about the existence of carpet moths – I thought they only ate clothes up until now.

I feel horrified, Google incessantly, email pest control, spray insane amounts of some lavender thing meant to repel moths and then tuck myself into bed at 9pm.

I manage to stop thinking of moths as we are doing it, doggy style, so I can confirm sex is a viable distraction technique for insect infestations.

Saturday

I spend a busy morning seeing various family members while my husband plays golf with his brother. My hubby is in wonderful spirits, after frequent sex and golf, so agrees to pick our eldest up from a party while I watch The Buccaneers all evening with my younger three. (Bliss!)

Everyone is hyper and up until 10pm. On the plus side, because my husband was on pick-up duty, he is awake and perky past 11pm – an extremely rare occurrence in our household since he gets up at 6am for work most days.

We cuddle and have sex in a position my husband thinks of as ‘the bullfrog’ and I like to call, ‘I’ve put 10 creams on my face so please don’t look at me right now’.

Sunday

We have a fun day taking the kids swimming and playing sports with them. I need my husband to move a giant wardrobe a neighbour pal is giving us for one of our kids’ rooms, so I promise sexual shenanigans in exchange for his physical labour.

(I used to think people who scheduled sex were boring. Now, some of the most enjoyable moments in my marriage involve making dirty, sex-based deals each week.)

We are both snoozy after such a full-on day but before falling asleep, I give my husband half a blow job, followed by a quickie-from-behind in bed.

I wonder if sex has become like exercise for us: something we need for our mental and physical health. Something we enjoy the more we do it.

If we don’t have sex for several days, the atmosphere in the house changes: moods plummet and we’re sharp with one another. Whereas on weeks like this one, we’re the model of a harmonious, chore-splitting, still-kissing-in-public pair.

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