What’s your fantasy? The Spinoff Parents Editor Emily Writes guesses the fantasies of sleep deprived parents and lays it out for some night-time reading.
A week ago, while discussing writing in a writers group, I was reminded of the majesty of the prose in 50 Shades of Grey. I’ve read the first two books and I was thrilled by the appalling writing. I will never, in my entire life, forget the scene where Christian Trevelyan Grey’s “erection springs forth” from his “boxer briefs” as if his penis is a terrifying Jack in the Box. And I will always hold dear the line “it was like having my very own Christian Grey popsicle”. It was astounding to me just how repellent she could make a dick sound.
I mean, I ask you, what’s not sexy about imagining a peen as an ice block. They have so much in common – frozen, refreshing, keeps you cool in summer…
It also reminded me of the intense (and warranted – don’t worry, I’m not suggesting it wasn’t warranted and 100% valid) backlash against some of the “sexy” scenes in 50 Shades of Grey. Even though I agree that it isn’t a helpful narrative in many ways (especially given the society we live in), I did think at the time, and still do, that maybe critics were missing how some of the book maybe was kind of hot for one particular group of people.
That group of people, you guessed it, are sleep-deprived parents.
And yes, I’m going to tell you why. In 50 Shades of Grey there are many things that the titular character Christian Grey does that are definitely controlling in normal getting enough sleep and able to think clearly land. In the land I live in, I believe a (very small handful) of it is not controlling but instead falls into the “Oh thank God you’re doing that because I’m so fucking tired I could cry” territory.
For example – ordering my food for me. Frankly, I’m just glad I don’t have to cook and I don’t have to eat the crusts of a luke-warm half-eaten marmite sandwich that was left in my son’s lunchbox. And picking the restaurant? THANK YOU. This is what my husband and I do every time we consider going out:
I’m pretty tired.
But we should go out.
EVERY SINGLE TIME. Neither of us want to make a decision because we make decisions about the kids all day. We are exhausted and the mere idea of choosing a place to eat is just too tiring.
Scheduling my day – Some days I can’t even work out what day of the week it is. Someone saying – you need to do this and this and I’m sending a driver is a fucking dream!
Paying my rent and buying me a computer – OK maybe this one is the broke writer in me but I’d be keen as a bean for this and I’d totally tolerate a couple of slaps on the ass for it.
Cleaning me up after I puke on myself and putting out water and blue powerade for me – Ok this one doesn’t apply strictly to parents to be fair. Though most of us have had that first glass of wine after pregnancy and been like *rips off maternity bra and waves it in the air*. But, back to the point – This is bogan courtship 101 mate. This is pure romance and is basically how my husband wooed me.
Insisting you sleep in your own bed – Nobody else in the bed but you? Perfect.
It made me think about the perfect erotica for parents. When the kids are jumping on the trampoline or digging up the garden or transfixed by Peppa Pig my mind wanders and it’s almost always the same thing…
Alexander Skarsgard naked, sweat glistening, dripping down his magnificent V, his voice like honey…
…ironing my dresses.
Charlie Hunnam bare assed, tattooed, three-day growth, smirking as he…
….cleans the toilet and sorts out which bath toys need to be thrown out.
Ryan Gosling looks up at me with his big blue eyes, sits down at a piano and I say – I love your singing honey but could you please put the duplo away.
I can’t help it. I think parents are such intense multi-taskers with so much on their plate that inevitably domestic fantasy is combined with sexual fantasy.
I feel like a scorching hot fantasy for parents would be:
Picture a big bed. Clean sheets. None of them smell faintly of piss at all. There are no soft toys in the bed. It’s a crisp and white. Clean. Did I say clean? You pull open the covers, do you know who is in there?
NOBODY. No kids. No partner. Just an empty clean bed.
There’s a lock on the door. Go on, lock it. Oh yeah.
Next to the bed is a sleeping pill and a glass of water.
Yeah you like that.
Take the sleeping pill and sleep on your own for nine hours.
GIVE IT TO ME.
You wake up in the morning and look for the washing.
It’s done baby. You’re up to date with laundry.
Yeah do you want me to say it again?
No laundry. At all. It’s all dry and folded and it’s:
Are you ready?
It’s been put away.
It’s time for breakfast. Someone made it for you. Who made it? Who cares baby because guess what – you get to eat it by yourself.
Yeah ya do.
All by yourself and nobody gets to eat any of it except you and you can take as long as you want to eat it.
What’s that you’re drinking?
It’s a hot coffee.
You made it and then you got to drink it hot.
What do you want to do now? Because you can do anything you want. You can be spontaneous. You don’t need to schedule anything around Plunket visits or kindy or baby rock and rhyme at the library.
And are you ready for this?
When you want to go out you can just grab your bag and just
Oh lord. You love that don’t you?
You just walk out that door and you can just walk out with nothing but your keys and cellphone baby.
It’s almost too much but we’re not done.
You want a piece of cake?
You deserve it and you can eat it all. You can eat it all. All by yourself. You don’t have to share. And take as long as you want to eat it girl.
Now, I don’t want to do too much here, this might be a little bit too much but…
Do you want a nap?
You can have a nap.
OH YEAH JUST LIKE THAT.
Just decide you want a nap and just have one.
Oh my god you slept for two hours and now it’s almost dinner time.
Someone cooked for you. Who cares who it was? It tasted so good and you ate it slowly watching TV that wasn’t Paw Patrol and afterward you go to clean the kitchen and it’s already clean baby. So clean.
And now you can watch a movie if you want. And I’m talking any dirty, filthy, film festival shit that’s basically porn but it’s “art” but we all know it totally isn’t. I’m not talking about Alvin and the Chipmunks the Squeakquel I’m talking that film with the 18 minute orgy scene in it. Nobody is going to interrupt you. Nobody is going to say they want to watch The Chipmunks Chipwrecked.
Want to go to bed? You can…or you can stay up doing Buzzfeed quizzes until 2am because guess what – you’re not going to be woken at all during the night and you can sleep in as long as you want.
You can sleep naked if you want too – I can assure you in this fantasy your offspring don’t see you naked and then immediately take off their clothes and then say “Ooopsy” as you feel wee spread across your leg.
No this fantasy involves no urine at all, though you can get pissed, coz as I said: You get to sleep in. Yeah you do.
Sleep as much as you want.
All night long.
You’re going to sleep so hard.
It’s my perfect fantasy. And one day I’ll get it. Until then, dreams are free….and I better get back to my pile of washing.
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