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"My son was diagnosed with Tourettes six months ago. This is a neurological condition characterized by involuntary vocal and physical movements that fluctuate in nature and last over one year. Unlike the media&amp;#039;s portrayal, very few people actually shout obscenities. That aside, it is still very painful to see someone you love uncontrollably roll their eyes or gulp, as was the case with my son. I knew that eventually I&amp;#039;d come to terms with my son&amp;#039;s condition, but as a mother, I also knew that there was more we could be doing to suppress these tics. I wasn&amp;#039;t buying my HMO&amp;#039;s statement that, &amp;quot;You can&amp;#039;t cure Tourettes.&amp;quot; The way I saw it, you can&amp;#039;t cure a person whose leg has been crushed by a semi-truck either. But with the right crutches and physical therapy, he or she doesn&amp;#039;t have to be wheelchair bound forever. I wasn&amp;#039;t ready to just &amp;quot;accept the tics&amp;quot; and medicate him with narcotics when he was older. You might wonder what Tourettes has to do with sex. And you&amp;#039;re right. This diagnosis had nothing to do with my physical relationship with my husband. Translation: I was so spent emotionally that I was in no mood for sex. &amp;quot;Hey, baby, some nosy body at Costco asked why Stink was twitching in the freezer section. Want to do it over the bathroom sink???&amp;quot; Yeah, right. Like my son&amp;#039;s condition, I knew that my sex life wasn&amp;#039;t irreversible. With the right tools, timing and some understanding, I would be able to enjoy what was once such a source of pleasure to me. The problem was that I had to figure out how to treat my son, and my husband, with 100% support without letting them know that deep inside I was dying. That I just wanted to go back to when Stink was a baby: A perfect bundle of love who had the whole world at his fingertips. I wanted to have that first year back with Rex: When I was writing for TV. When I&amp;#039;d come back so full from a stimulating day on the set, only to have my handsome boyfriend fill me up even more with a blended margarita, grilled fish, and his warm arms around me. I don&amp;#039;t know how it happened, but at some point I realized that my son, Tourettes or not, is still perfect. And my husband, though not the person I thought he was in some ways, was more of a man in many others. As my best friend told me, &amp;quot;Life is not something we stick a fork in. Just embrace the insanity.&amp;quot; As it turns out, not only did I find a way to suppress my son&amp;#039;s tics by 90% through diet and supplements, but I found a way to relate to my husband. I can&amp;#039;t say it&amp;#039;s &amp;quot;Happily Ever After&amp;quot; because that&amp;#039;s &amp;quot;Sticking a fork in it.&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;m opting to stick a spoon in it. Which just might mean making love to Rex and spooning off to sleep. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a2718/sticking-a-spoon-in-it/>