Comfort

Dragon is home for 2 weeks. He needs the time to recover and heal. All great and good right? I get a break from ttwd. NOPE. He is still in charge. In sneak attack form but still there. A bubble bath to pamper his worried wife and a few swats to reassure me that he is still on the job.

“I may have one arm in a sling but I still have a free hand to take care of my wife.”

I don’t know how that is a comfort but it is. Knowing he is still watching out for me and still firmly in his place as HOH. I watch him struggle with everyday things. Dressing himself, his home program for physical therapy, doing the things he does around the house to take care of us. I want to step up and take over. I want to take care of him but he has other ideas. Doing things for himself is his way of healing. Preserving his independence and getting back to day to day life. I understand but it is hard. Watching him struggle, seeing his pain. If I could take it away, I would.

I finally got to read the book I bought for the waiting room at the hospital. “The Reluctant Prophet” I cried while I read. It is a story about faith and following Jesus. It is the way I see Christianity, not the way most people do. It was a relief to see it in words. Uncomfortable faith. Reaching out to the prostitutes, the homeless, the hungry. I’m not in a position right now to do much but we still do what we can. I don’t tithe to a church. Since I don’t go to one, that isn’t a problem. When I have a little extra, it goes to those in need. It is hart to tell someone that Jesus loves them when they are hungry. With a full belly, it is much easier to feed them the word of God.

Another sigh of relief and happy tears came after I talked to my oldest daughter. I have always planned to change my will when she turned 18 and put her as primary guardian of her siblings if something were to happen to both of us. I didn’t want to change the will before talking to her. Her response surprised me.

“Mom, an aunt, uncle or grand parent isn’t going to love them as much as I do. The way I see it, I have to. I love them to much to leave them with anyone else.”

I had a good cry over the book. Sad tears. Then happy tears after I heard my daughter's words. Yesterday was a day for tears. I am one proud mom right about now.

My husband is still HOH and I know my kids will be in good hands if something ever happens to us. I can sleep good. All is safe and secure.

Tears Fall

Tears fall
like a gentile rain
washing away the mask
that hides me

Fear fills my body
trembling as I hide
turning my world inside out

tears fall
like a gentile rain
washing away the mask
that hides my fear

Worry eats at my mind
stealing happiness
changing who I am

Tears fall
like a gentile rain
washing away the mask
that hides my worry

Pain twists my heart
until I feel nothing
empty and changed

Tears fall
like a gentile rain
washing away the mask
that hides me

I write when I am hurting and when I am worried.  My husband read this on my computer and asked me to put it on my blog.  Nope.  I don't cope with change easy.  When the poop hits the fan you can find me hiding under my bed. 

He Knows Me

He knows so very many things. He knows that I would much rather get a pleasure spanking. He knows that I was asking for accountability and not punishment. He knows that in my mind, accountability and love are connected. He knows when to take the hard line and when to give me a little slack. He knows me and loves me anyway.

Priceless!

Day by day I can see all the small ways our lives are changing. He is stepping up as the leader and I am falling into step beside him. He is doing things his way. I wanted things to progress my way but that would make me the leader not him. At first I hated it. I wanted it my way. It took some time to realize that his way is better. It is easy to accept his leadership. Yes, I do have my moments of defiance but just one look from him reminds me that I need to take his hand.

He leads with force of personality, respect and quiet words. My own pride is a stumbling block. We don’t always agree on things. I want to be right and I will be right. Humph.

“That’s enough of that now.”

That is all it takes, most of the time, to put us back on the right track. I say us but really, that means me. Those words strip my pride and tell me it is time to back down. I can disagree with him. That is allowed but his decision will stand.

One day I will cross that line. Step right over the line from acceptable to down right defiance. Ok. Honesty time. I have stepped over the line a few times. We are both learning where that line is. He granted a moment of mercy and called it a learning experience for both of us. Dragon made it clear that if I dare cross that line again that there will be consequences. It won’t be fun or light hearted like a stress relief spanking. He doesn’t want to spank me that way and if I force his had by out right defiance, I am sure it will me a memorable experience.

If? Ok. I should have said when. I have crossed the line several times. Just because I know where it is doesn’t mean I won’t cross it again. My temper will get out of hand, I’ll forget my seatbelt again, argue in front of the kids. He will have me across his lap with a stinging backside before I know what happened.
He knows I want to be led. He knows I hate the idea of punishment. He knows me. He has a powerful tool in his hands, placed there by his loving wife. It is a tool of last resort. I am grateful he sees it that way. My every loving husband takes comfort knowing that he has a way to motivate me and change a behavior he doesn’t like. Spanking isn’t a cure all for everything wrong in our lives but just knowing that it is an option helps both of us.

I almost hoped that his shoulder surgery next week would put things on hold. He let me know in no uncertain words that it would not happen that way. He will have two weeks at home to recover. Some how I am sure he will have his eye on me the entire time. No breaks. Just moving forward one day at a time.

Ps. He showed me his staying power last night. I have four new patterns coming in the mail. I want to put two projects on my cutting table aside to work on the new patterns. Nope. he won’t hear of it. I have to finish the two baby dresses before I can start on the skate dresses. Pout. I guess I better get to work if I want to play with my new patterns. He means business.

The Memory Glitch

I have memory problems.  Not as bad as some but enough to annoy those around me.  Tonight is one of those nights.   I am on day 2 of the Miserable Monthly.  It is the most uncomfortable day of the month for me.  Cramping, headache, emotional, tired, irritable AND I’m still sick.  Double MM.  Do you see trouble coming?  I didn’t. 

 We are working on an order and it is almost done.  Just four more designs to do.  That’s it.  The end is in sight.  My tummy was cramping so bad I was miserable.  A bad one would hit and I was off to the bathroom.  Miserable.   I apologized  for my numerous trips and he turned around a yelled at me.

“Enough!  You have apologized 7 times now.  I understand.  Now leave it alone!”

Tears filled my eyes immediately.  I had no idea I had said the same thing so many times.  I understand why he was frustrated.   I can’t help it.  He knows that.  It is just hard for him to deal with at times.   As soon as he realized what happened he apologized  and held me while I cried. 

One bubble bath and lots of cuddles latter all is forgiven. 

(That memory glitch is a part of every day life. I have lost friends over it and gotten into arguments with my family. Sometimes it isn’t a big deal. Other times it is scary. The glitch is a part of my life. That is why it has a spot in my blog.)

Sick x Six = chaos

All six of us are sick. Tempers are short, no one wants to clean house, cook or walk the dog. This family is headed back into chaos. Regular school work has been put aside and we are learning about viruses. Dragon still has to go to work like clockwork every day. Oh fun. Can I just curl up in a corner and sleep for two weeks until this passes? Please????

Back to the timer. Mommy is not allowed sick days either. It is time to put on my big girl panties and do what I am best at. Mothering my family. One kid wants vanilla ice cream, another kid wants Jell-O, the other two want chocolate pudding.  Super Mom is on the job.

How Romantic

At 13 I had just started taking an interest in chapter books. I read everything I could get my hands on. But…. Some books were off limits. The books my mom and grandmother read all the time. They didn’t look all that special to me but they were always reading the things. I wasn’t allowed to even read the back cover. What does a teenager do when told no? Sneak! I was left at home alone a lot. I had plenty of time to take a peek. I was hooked.

Hero meets heroine. They hate each other, they fight, they make up. He is always a manly man who takes control and she always swoons at his feet like a good little woman. In the historical romances, that manly man would put the little woman over his knee, flip up her skirt and blister that bare bottom. Using his hand, a belt or brush he would make his point crystal clear. I never liked the detailed sex parts of the books but the spanking scenes had to be read twice.

In a society that values female power, why are these books so popular? In reality I was fighting for my freedom from a male dominated word. In the privacy of my small bedroom, I longed for a take charge man. Ironic isn’t it? When I read about a man carrying a box for a lady, I thought how romantic but you wouldn’t see me admitting I needed the help of a man. Gasp! A fictional man holds the door open for a lady. What a gentleman. In real life, I thought differently. What a jerk.

I looked at the boys around me. They were pushovers. I saw them as weak. They did everything “right” by the little rule book in my head but it didn’t feel right. She bossed him, she got her way and he let her. GIRL POWER! ! ! Ok, now you know why I didn’t date in high school. I couldn’t date a boy I thought was weak. That was just wrong. I wanted a strong man, a romantic man, not a honey do man.

So where does this need for DD come from? If it is such a bad thing to submit to your husband and be spanked, why do we read so much about it? I know that not every teenage girl reads the trash novels. This is how I think the idea was planted into my head. Studies on submission at church reinforced the idea. Finding a place that my submission was acceptable made it possible to make ttwd a reality. My submission enabled my husband to step up and become the HOH he is.

I think that there is a need to submit hard wired into the female brain. The need is there but pressures from society sometimes over ride that programming. A small minority of women over come this brainwashing. I left an abusive household where fear was the rule of the day. I stepped into a permissive one. Now, my home is becoming a sanctuary of piece, harmony and love under the leadership of my husband. I know what abuse is. I have felt that fear. What I feel now is the opposite of fear. I am a wife, taken in hand by her husband and I feel loved.

Ps. I read an article after I wrote this that suggested something quite different. He thinks that the rape scenes in the book are why woman read them so much and why we ask for DD. WHAT? let me tell you this. I have been there done that. NO WOMAN EVER CRAVES TRUE RAPE. Fantasy and fun are ok. But Rape is a crime of violence and something I could never forgive. DD is consensual. Rape is a not.