His Arms

This has been a hard topic to write about. I keep trying but everything I write falls short. How can I tell you how good his arms feel wrapped around me? The comfort, the security, the love I feel when I am held so very close to his body?

I thought this would be an easy topic. That the emotion would imprint itself on the page as I write.
　
Nope. Not going to happen.
　
At night he would go to seep turned away from me. I have a small lamp on my side of the bed and usually fall asleep with it on. Every night around 11 I have an asthma attack. You can set your clock by it. I am sitting strait up in bed and he is snoring with his back to me. When my breathing returns to normal, I lay down and try to sleep.
　
With his back to me it is hard. I need to feel his arms around me. I need to know he is there.
　
Instead of pouting over his night time lapse, I said something. I asked him why he turns away now. And what does he do? He makes sure his arms are around me every night. As soon as I lay down I feel his weight shift as me moved to wrap me in his warmth.
　
In his arms

I feel loved. I know that I am his.
I feel secure. Chaos and worry do not exist
I feel warm. He warms my heart
I feel safe. Nothing can ever harm me when I am in his arms
In his arms I have learned to love and to trust another human being.
　

serenity, forgivness and unconditional love

My daughter keeps dropping little bomb shells on me. “Granny said this.” “Granny did that.”
　
I know she needs to vent and I really do want to know what went on while she was gone. But I am getting just a little bits and pieces of the story at a time. Amber needs to talk about what went on. She wants me to know what my mother thinks about me. The whole truth.
　
How can I keep forgiving? When do I finally say enough? When is it time to confront my mother?
　
Those are the burning questions. I know my husband will never allow her to spend any unsupervised time with the kids. Not after this summer. She spent two months doing her level best to turn Amber against me. I don’t want to let her spend any time with the kids. EVER! But I know that is the wrong attitude.
　
I want to confront her. I know it will have to be done with a quiet voice and calmly.
　
Shhh.. What to know a secret?
　
Don’t tell.
　
I have a temper and this woman hurt my child. I am one mad momma bear. She tried to turn my own child against me. What am I supposed to do with that?
　
I want to scream. I want to tell her how much she has hurt me once again with her selfishness. I want to throw all those years of abuse back in her face and prove to her once and for all that I am NOT an abusive mother. That I am a good wife. I want to make her hurt as much as she hurt me. I want to make her listen. I want to make her love her only daughter.
　
It all comes down to one thing.
　
I am a Christian lady.
　
I can’t scream at her like a lunatic. I can’t make her love me. I can’t make her see past her hate and jealousy
　
Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen
　
That says it all. I’ll keep my mouth shut. I will work on my bad habit of holding on to anger and resentment. I’ll pray for my mother and I’ll remember the lessons I have learned about unconditional love. If something needs to be said in the future, Dragon will by my side. He will say what needs to be said. He is head of our house hold and protecting us from harm is ultimately his job.
　
God can do all things.  In his love, I will find my way out of this darkness.  Healing will come.

Living 15 Minutes at aTime

Our schedule is hectic. Dragon is taking some classes in addition to working full time and local volunteer work. The kids play sports and home school is in full swing. I am dealing with a spiteful teen who doesn’t want to live at home but dearly wants the coveted high school diploma. It is enough to send any self-respecting lady scrambling for the nearest hiding place.

Yes, TTWD is still part of our home. A big part but with so much going on, it is limited to quiet warnings and the evil glair. He is gone more than he is home right now. Dragon comes home, eats supper, studies for a few hours and starts snoring before he falls into bed. Add to that, this week is a 12 day work week.
　
I can’t ask him for help with the kids or Mt Never-Rest. I can’t ask him for help with the anxiety building in my stomach. I have what feels like a permanent case of indigestion.
　
So……
　
Where does that leave me? With Fly Lady. She is an angel in this house. I can’t do the routines she has on her page but I can modify them. “Anything can be done in 15 minutes. “ Is one of my favorite Fly sayings. “Perfectionism is a disease.” is the other.
　
I can’t work for long periods of time. My health just won’t allow me to have a cleaning day. I have to break things down into 15 minute fly mission and 30 minute breaks. Those are the magic numbers for me. And since I expect the kids to spend 45 minutes per subject that works out perfectly. Everything is based on having a routine and not being a perfectionist about it.
　
Routine and timer. I can do that. Easy. It is the perfectionist part that gets me.
　
I can do this.
　
Breath.
　
It only takes one step to walk a thousand miles. I only have to think about the next step in my day not the million or so things on my to do list.
　
Ready?
　
Set the timer!
　
MOVE! ! ! !

Where were you?

Where were you when the world stopped turning? That day had a huge impact on my life. Most of it I can’t talk about in blog land. Make of that what you will. It has changed my family forever. That day wont go away for me. It keeps coming back to hurt us. I don’t know how much more I can take.

Pray for the Fire fighters, police and the brave soldiers who fight for your freedom

Thank a soldier today.  And be sure to take time to honor those who were lost that day and the lives that have been lost fighting for your freedom. 

Women’s Liberation Movement

　
The first women’s rights convention was held in Seneca Falls, New York. In 1848 a group of men and women gathered to discuss the injustices women faced in society. The very rights we take for granted today, they had to fight for. The right to vote, hold a job, earn a decent wage. Women were second class citizens seen a property. Marriage and divorce laws were written to favor men. A married woman lost all rights to her own money and property. Education opportunities were limited to those that were seen as proper for the more delicate sex.

The heros that fought for our rights have given future generations a very valuable gift. The right to choose.

Women's Rights History
　
A little five year old girl knows that she can do anything and be anything she can dream up. A doctor, teacher, architect, pilot or a vet. She can go to war with both men and women. She can own property, control her own checkbook, get a loan at the bank and drive a car. She can vote in an election and even hold the office of President of the United States.
　
Feel that estrogen ladies!
　
It is sad that today, the stay at home mom is frowned upon. She isn’t respected by her friends who hold jobs. She works hard to provide a comfortable home for her family. Cleaning, cooking and maintaining her home. The kids are clean, well educated and her home is in harmony. Yet she snubbed.
　
Why?
　
In the eyes of society she hasn’t embraced the Women’s Liberation Movement. I am a stay at home mom. Gasp….. And ….. AND I submit to my husbands authority.  Not only do I submit to him but he spanks me when I break a rule.

“lock her up in a mental institution and put him in prison. These people are CRAZY!”
　
Do you see the heads turning? Do you see the shocked look on the their faces?
　
Society can accept kink and perversion. Why not a submissive wife? What happened to that word Choice? Did it go out the window? Am I not allowed to choose who I am anymore? I can choose to be a lesbian and marry my female lover. I can choose to hire a nanny for my kids and be an absent parent. So many choices today! It is amazing.
　
But I can’t choose to be submissive? I can’t choose to be spanked?
　
The choices seem a little lopsided to me.
　
I choose to be me.

Stepping it up

Yowza ! ! ! !


He stepped it up a notch or two or ten. For weekly stress relief, he has to hold me down. Hard and fast. The swats fall one right after the other and hurt so much all I can think about is getting away from that hateful paddle.
　
It starts out with slow easy swats. A few with his hand, a few with the paddle. He massages my skin as it begins to turn a pale shade of pink. He shifts his leg across mine and holds them firmly in place. His free hand is ready to grab mine when I decide to stop the session. The only safe word I have that words is BLUE. Red, stop, I’m done…. Nope. They won’t make him stop.
　
Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to let them fall.
　
The swats fall. Unending. It feels that way to me. Somehow I am sure it lasts less than 5 minutes but you will not convince me of the when it is my bottom on fire. I can feel the heat radiating from my skin.
　
At last it is over. He pulls me into his lap and kisses me. His hand squeezes my tender skin cruelly. Fresh tears cling to my lashes. I kiss his face and neck. His hands move across my back, shoulders and rest on my neck. Pulling me ever closer.
　
It was a night a will not soon forget. Stress relief more intense than I have ever experience followed by making love. No not sex. Get your mind out of the gutter. Hands, lips and skin. Erotic and hot but no sex. Just the two of us rediscovering all those hidden hot spots and falling asleep in each others arms.
　
I don’t like this new intensity.
　
Ok. The love making I like. Love that part.
　
But the harder spanking? Nope. No way. I want to go back to the erotic fun kind. These aren’t fun at all. My backside is sore from last nights session with the paddle. Yowza! It is so hard to muffle my squeals with the pillow. Silence is impossible.
　
With two teenagers in the house and two pre teens, I don’t see my stress levels going down anytime soon. I see it getting worse. So no. Stress relief session won’t get any lighter. I HATE HATE HATE them right now. WOWCHY best describes them. As much as I dislike them, I know it is what I need. He knows where my head is. He knows what I need. And yes, I do feel more relaxed after it. And no, the old, softer swats were not doing the job. But I can still say I don’t like it.
　
Can’t I?
　
S#*! What have I gotten my self into. !@# $%^ ^&*+
(I’m not allowed to cuss. And don’t want to earn a punishment if that is the NEW stress relief)
　

Stages of Becoming

JE from my Fet account. 

stage 1.
I will never submit to a man. A man will never support me. I will never depend on a man for anything. They are all pigs.


stage 2.
Ok. I’ll marry this one and let him in my life but I won’t depend on him for anything. Can’t trust a man. They are not worthy.


stage 3.
Well maybe I can trust him a little.


stage 4.
I’ll let him support me for a little while. Just while I’m still in school.


stage 5.
I don’t want to go back to work. I want to stay home but I will not submit to him.

stage 6.
Ok. Maybe I should submit to him.

stage 7.
He owns me. I feel lost without him. With his encouragement I am becoming the person I always had the potential to be.