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"What used to be the most dreaded nights of the week (can we say homework, mad cap dinners, dishes and rowdy bedtime hours) have quickly morphed into my most treasured evenings of contentment. The moment I come home from work, the clothes come off, I lay down, and Rex takes over. The kids are tucked in their beds, the kitchen is cleaner than when I left it, so what do I need to do other than accept my husband&amp;#039;s decadent invitation? All six foot three of him, (damn sexy in his five o&amp;#039;clock shadow) caters to my every whim. I moan in ecstasy at his capable hands. I sigh in the sheer pleasure of how amazing it feels. There is nothing like being serviced by my husband. Yup, dinner on the couch is the best. Lest any of you new readers think I was tricking you with my opening paragraph (dare I say my foreplay) my old readers are well aware that I love me a double entendre. Perhaps the only thing I cherish more are acts of service. A maid, a good back scratch, dinner out... I&amp;#039;ll take it! And let me tell you, minus my bi-monthly maid (which I&amp;#039;ve paid for with many side jobs) I have done my fair share of work since the kids were born. Need the house painted? I&amp;#039;m your lady. Need a Xmas dress but don&amp;#039;t want to spend Nordstrom money? I&amp;#039;m not above the Salvation Army. Want to eat three times as much for half the price of regular shopping? It&amp;#039;s called coupons, club cards and newspaper ads. But...and here&amp;#039;s where the balance comes in... I&amp;#039;d gotten so good at doing everything myself I had forgotten about the peace and serenity that comes with allowing someone else to lift my burdens - specifically my husband. With so much time wasted being angry at him over the past few years (&amp;quot;why does he get to go to lunch with the guys while I&amp;quot;m brown bagging it with kids at the park?) I&amp;#039;ve realized that I had exactly what I wanted. While his payoff from a ten hour day at work might have been a dinner out with the guys, my payoff for a long day of work was a beautiful baby sleeping on my shoulder, or a little human being looking up at me with a grin that could light up a firecracker. I&amp;#039;m not saying that tired moms don&amp;#039;t deserve breaks. In fact, something I wish I had been more assertive with was exactly what I needed. I should not have waited until working out of the house to enjoy a few dinners on the couch. With how randy I&amp;#039;ve felt from being taken care of, I&amp;#039;m most certain Rex would have gladly pleasured a stay-at-home mama as much as he pampers his little working girl. (Well, his big working girll I&amp;#039;m six&amp;#039;1, which can only mean I need more tender care. And more food - I need energy for when I jump him later that evening. And by later, I mean at least two hours later. Sex post carne asada is not my idea of romance.) * Photo of Rex fixing our sink after cooking dinner. If I can hold on to these jobs a year or so, perhaps I&amp;#039;ll get some n ew tile for the kitchen to go along with the fabulous food I&amp;#039;m eating. (But the food trumps new counters any day.) "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a21800/i-love-being-served/?src=shelter_footer>