Blog Posts by The_Stir

messy bedSex Confessions" is a series featuring your naughtiest bedroom secrets and fantasies. Some will sound familiar, others may give you ideas, some will turn you on, and some are dark and twisted. You might want to sit down for this.

Thirty-two-year-old Jeanie* is sharing her dirty little secret today. Well, really it's her husband's secret. You see, Mr. Jeanie loves to play with sex toys. Jeanie was totally game when he first suggested it and just assumed that meant there would be some more buzzing pleasure for her. She never thought he meant he wanted sex toys for himself. And she's a little weirded out about it. She realizes it's a double standard, but can't shake the feeling that it's just odd. It makes her feel inadequate. Let's read what Jeanie has to say.

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My husband and I are that couple that never had any kind of issue in the sex department. Even after two kids. Sure, it's hard to find time, but we do and

InnoTab 2 Baby
InnoTab 2 BabyThis morning I opened my email to find exciting news! The first-ever tablet specially designed for babies is out for the holidays, and it's selling for the low, low price of nearly 90 bucks. Glory, glory, hallelujah! Another piece of crap babies don't really need to lure parents into the baby commerce trap!

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Moms! Dads! You're going to need to learn the following phrase once your kid hits the toddler years anyway, so listen up: just because it's there doesn't mean you need it.

In fact, there's zero evidence in this world that babies need their own tablets. Not even the fancy schmancy InnoTab 2 Baby from VTech.

Hold on, I'm not some Luddite out here trashing tablets. I own an iPad, and my 7-year-old got a Kindle Fire for her birthday. But we're both of an age when we can actually do things like, oh, I dunno, read, and wipe our own butts. And neither of us has chewed on anything

I can't have any more children. At least none that are biologically mine.

I'll never be pregnant again.

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A couple of weeks after our first child was born, I underwent a radical hysterectomy to remove cancer that was discovered at the time of my C-section. Having the surgery was a no brainer. It was a do it or die situation. I chose to fight to live, and that's what I'm going to continue to do for as long as I can.

But now that the cancer seems to be in remission, I'm noticing that I sometimes feel jealous around pregnant women.

Now, who knows if we would have chosen to have another child after Maggie. When she was born, I was no spring chicken at age 44. And I wasn't going to get any younger.

Plus, ours was a high risk pregnancy. We were fortunate to deliver a child with no apparent health problems. To us (and to her pediatrician), she appears to be perfect. So,

Teenager, toddlerI remember, way back when Girl Child was little and wasn't yet capable of articulating the many random thoughts that were probably floating around in her tiny baby mind even then, I used to tease her and say, "Pooter, when are you gonna start talking?" And she would burble or chew on her foot or smile and my one-sided conversation would come to a close.

I remember those times fondly because that same baby is now 14. And long gone are the days when I have to ask her when she's going to speak up. That chatterbox gets a-turnin' early in the morning and doesn't stop cranking out run-on commentary until she's in deep sleep again at night.

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But the more things change, the more they stay the same. Packs of Pampers aren't loaded into my shopping cart, formula no longer lines the shelves in the kitchen, but I still find a surprising number of similarities between my daughter the baby and my daughter the teenager.

j bubbles Growing up, I was taught that turning 7 years oldsignified reaching the "age of reason." What that meant, exactly, I wasn't quite sure (except that I could make my 1st Holy Communion). But now that I have kids of my own, an 11-year-old and, you guessed it, a 7-year-old, I think I kinda get what they were talking about. Once you hit the age of 7, you're a bonafide big kid. A 7-year-old knows right from wrong, more or less. A 7-year-old is also pretty independent, or at least that's the way it seems: Like he's capable of handling most of the everyday tasks that younger kids with less developed motor skills can't pull off on their own. And in fact, he seems capable because he probably IS capable. Phew! Time to take a step back, helicopter parents.

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Except, not really.

Just because he's capable of getting things done "all by himself" doesn't mean he actually will. Here are 7 things you still can't trust your big kid

GymThe other night I was at the gym minding my own business. My legs felt like they were carrying 25-pound weights on every step of my three-mile treadmill run. I looked up after my exhausting run and saw something that made me infuriated. Ehhh, I'm exaggerating a little. Strongly perturbed.

A woman. In full makeup with hair looking like she just came from a salon. Curls. Dark brown curls. Tight yoga pants. Small tank top with designer push-up sports bra. Photo shoot-ready.

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And there I am, a sweaty mess. Dripping. No makeup. I feel like the ugly duckling on steroids. To be blunt: all I wanted to do was channel my inner Lindsay Lohan and straight up punch her in the face.

Let's talk about wearing makeup to the gym, shall we? I understand if you're going throughout your day and you have some eyeliner and mascara on from who knows when. Putting makeup on to GO to the gym, though, is something I'll just

steak dinnerJust say "no thanks" to steak!As trendy as it may have become in recent years, going vegan is no small feat. It's a serious, hands-on, full-time-job-like commitment. Or at least that's what I hear from my sister, who did it pretty strictly for a year. Inspired by her efforts (and okay, weight loss, too), I actually tried my hand at a pesca-vegan regimen for a couple of months only to throw in the towel when I realized I actually felt better overall -- more energy, better weight management, higher satiety -- while eating lean poultry, low-fat cheese, Greek yogurt, etc. While I still opt for almond milk and coconut milk desserts more often than cow's milk and ice cream, I now know veganism and I just weren't meant to be. As for my sis, well, she quit recently, too, because she was "hungry." Ha.

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So, in retrospect, I started thinking about reasons people might -- for better or worse -- believe

clothing racksLike most women in the general population, I L-O-V-E to shop, and I really love to shop for new clothes. There's nothing quite as satisfying as finding a few classic pieces to add to your wardrobe that make you look and feel like a million bucks.

But as much as I love to hit up my favorite stores in the hopes of picking up some cute new duds, I often find myself entering the store feeling hopeful and excited, but leaving feeling like something just one notch above complete sh&%.

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And yes, I know exactly why -- it's because I'm all caught up in what the size label on whatever I'm trying on says and whether it's "telling" me that I'm fat and unattractive or not. Because if that number is anything bigger than the "cutoff" number I have designated in my head as to what is acceptable for me -- I won't buy the outfit, no matter how well it fits or how great it