Summer’s end

We’re leaving tomorrow evening for the Midwest. Adam’s mom lives out in the middle of nowhere in a town smaller than our culdesac. Think oz, as in Wizard of Oz. Small town Kansas. It’s our last trip of summer before our kids start school and the chaos begins again. I have so enjoyed having my kiddos all to myself this summer. I always feel a twinge if sadness when they start back to school because I lose them a little more each year. They have their friends to play with, they ask their teachers what the moon is made of, they don’t need their mama as much. My kids are 8 and 10 years old. I know every parent says it, but I really do have great kids. They’re kind, polite, respectful, helpful, sweet as can be. I get told regularly how well behaved my kids are. Watching them grow is such a bittersweet privilege. I’m blessed to be their mama and it’s amazing seeing the kind of individual people they’re becoming. I sometimes wish I could keep them little just a little longer.

I’m nervous to make this trip with my leg out of commission. A 12 hour car ride is going to be miserable I think. Wish me luck y’all, I’m probably going to need it! The one positive this injury has given me, is that Adam is babying the heck out of me. He just got back home from the store to get me some mint chocolate chip ice cream I was craving. He came home from work and cooked us all supper too. I do miss his playful smacks on my bottom and our typical back and forth with tickles and any excuse to touch each other. He’s afraid to hurt me, so of course he’s not picking on me right now. Last night, he even shaved my legs for me and he painted my toenails! My son keeps asking me “Are you okay mama? Can I get something for you?” And my daughter played with my hair and laid next to me on the couch for hours today. I truly have the best family a girl could ask for ❤️

Grumpy

Last night, my leg swelled way up and I was in so much pain I wanted to cry. I had to crawl into the kitchen to get some Aleve and an ice pack because I couldn’t put any weight at all on my leg anymore. Adam woke up when I came back to bed and saw me sitting up holding my leg. He wanted to take me to the hospital but I said heck no, we don’t need an ER bill! I put on a brave face and waited until morning to go visit my doc. It appears, I overdid it yesterday and caused a mild to moderate tear in my calf muscle to become a severe tear. I’m told now I will be off that leg for 6 weeks and have to use crutches. Adam’s been very sweet taking care of me and I know he was really worried for me. I’m not usually a baby. I actually have a pretty darned high pain tolerance. I’m so angry with myself for making it worse. I was feeling pretty good yesterday morning so I figured I’d get some housework done, but that was obviously a mistake. So, I’m sitting here with ice under my leg that’s propped up on the couch, a little dopey from pain medication, feeling pissed off that this happened and cursing my body for doing this to me.

Strict orders

Well y’all, I was right. I went and got the stinkin’ ultrasound done and no blood clot. I do however, seem to have a pretty bad tear and was told I needed to take it easy for the next few weeks. Ugh. This afternoon, I swept and mopped and vacuumed and cleaned the bathrooms and wiped down the window in the storm door. I got 3 loads of laundry done as well. In my defense, this was all done before I went up to the hospital for the ultrasound. I’m hurting pretty bad right now, though. Not only has the doctor suggested I take it easy, but Adam has given me strict instructions to sit in the recliner with my leg iced. This sucks. It’s the last week of summer before school starts and my babies leave me. I wonder if it would be okay to take the kids swimming? Hmm? Maybe there’s something we can do at least. I’ll lose my mind if I have to stay in this chair for too long.

For Mrs Mcdaddy :)

I wanted to post a picture of my dog, Scrappy in the comments, but it won’t let me do that. This was my handsome fur baby who I got long before I had any kids. He was with me through both of their births and a miscarriage. He got me through the best and worst of times for all 13 years I was blessed to have him here with me ❤️ He had just gotten a haircut in this picture, but his hair was usually about like your dog, Ruffi’s.

TTWD

TTWD, This Thing We Do, is sort of an all inclusive term for couples who incorporate any kind of “kink” into their lives. At least, that’s what I’ve understood it to mean anyway. I’ve been thinking, aren’t we all a little bit kinky? Who doesn’t have a fantasy or fetish? There are so many different things people can be into. From the common ones like playing “naughty nurse” or dressing in a sexy French maid’s uniform, to foot fetishes and beyond. I’m certainly not one to judge others for their own kinks, whatever they may be. It is rather annoying how judgmental some folks are about what other consenting couples are doing. I’ve received zero criticism for anything I’ve blogged here, and I’m grateful for that. However, I have seen plenty of online conversations where others have chimed in with their holier than thou attitudes concerning other couples and their turn ons. I feel genuinely sorry for those people because their sex lives must be absolutely bland or non existent. Now I’m not suggesting that we can’t share our own preferences or talk about why something others are into just isn’t your flavor. I’m talking about the buzz kills who do their best to shame and belittle people for opening up about what they’re into. Clearly, I like to discuss my own take on incorporating DD and a little BSDM into Adam and my relationship. I expect there to be very few (if any) folks who always agree with how I like to do things. That’s okay! I subscribe to and read a lot of other couple’s stories about their lives. Just because I’m not into all of the same things they are, that doesn’t mean I don’t find enough in common to find their writing interesting. Do I find some things to be a little weird? Sure. Feet gross me the hell out! You’ll never hear about me sucking someone’s nasty toes. To each their own though. We’re all a little weird, aren’t we?

To all my fellow kinksters in blog land, don’t worry about what other people think. Share your thoughts and don’t be afraid to talk about your secret fantasies. I have a theory that the people claiming to be the most horrified by our openness about what heats us up, are actually just really frustrated with their own inability to admit they’re kinky too. I mean, why else would they be reading your blog?

Life & Stuff

I’m a runner. I also love to go to the gym and do weight training. On Friday, I pulled a muscle in my calf, but rather than taking it easy, I overdid it through the weekend. By Sunday night, I was laying on the couch with ice under my leg that was feeling like it was literally on fire. After a restless and painful night, Adam insisted that I needed to have a doctor look at it. I could hardly walk and my calf was terribly swollen. So, I begrudgingly went into see the doctor. After a 2 hour wait to see him, I was finally taken back and given a 30 second examination after which he told me what I already knew, I’d torn a muscle in my calf. He also wanted me to go in for an ultrasound just to be certain I didn’t have a blood clot. For that, I had to drive over to the hospital and limp from the parking lot inside. I waited for over an hour and then they told me it was going to be up to 3 more hours before they could squeeze me in…so I said fuck it and went home. I’m active. I’m young-ish. I know I don’t have a stinking blood clot! I was a little worried Adam would be upset with me for leaving, but he said he understood and just suggested that I could try to get it done tomorrow (today) if I wanted to. I honestly don’t want to though. For me, it’s torture having to be still. I hate being confined to the couch/chair/bed. I’m going crazy not being able to do the things I normally can. I’d rather be doing laundry, and that is by far my least favorite chore around the house!

If I can come up with some good ideas or topics worth blogging about, I’ll probably write a lot more over the next few days. Hopefully, I’ll heal quickly. I do feel much better than I did yesterday. If anyone has some questions or suggestions for me to write about, please feel free to leave me a comment! I’m sooo bored!

Safe words

Adam and I have never actually had “safe words”. When it comes to sex, “no, stop, please” are all words that will put an immediate halt to things. I rarely say any of them, but it has happened, and Adam has always respected my requests. When it comes to spanking, there are also no safe words, however I realized just yesterday that there is one tiny phrase that Adam will pause for. “I’m scared.” I have only ever said it a few times before, but when he pulled a hairbrush out of the drawer, I was afraid. It’s been months since I’ve felt the sting of a hairbrush. He’d gotten me into position and had his arm raised when I said it, I’m scared. He brought his spanking hand down and used his other one to hold my hand he’d already pinned behind my back. I didn’t get out of the spanking, but that small gesture made me feel safe and comforted. Obviously, there’s an element of fear when you know your butt’s about to get whooped, but Adam would never want to do anything emotionally damaging to me. It’s important to him that I feel secure in those vulnerable moments. I honestly have never consciously thought to vocalize those words as an attempt to stop, or even pause, a spanking. It’s always genuine when I’ve said it. I guess I just hadn’t ever really thought about their impact. I love that Adam knew exactly what I needed. I love that he listens to what I’m expressing in words and in my actions. I’ve never felt the need for a safe word with Adam. We are so deeply connected to one another, he can always read my body language. He gets me.

Practical submission

What does submission really look like? Have you ever been stopped by the police? Maybe you were going too fast. Maybe you had a taillight out. When you see those lights flip on in your rear view mirror, you know exactly what you’re supposed to do next. You find a place to safely pull over and you fumble through the glovebox for your insurance and registration. The first question every officer asks is “Do you know why I pulled you over?” Now, there is always a dilemma going on in my mind when I’m asked that question. Do I admit I knew I was speeding? Do I feign surprise when he tells me I’ve got a tail light out that I’ve actually known about for months?

I was once pulled over when I was 16 years old for running a stop sign. Thing was, it wasn’t me. I had a cousin who looks more like my twin who also happened to drive a car very similar to mine, same in color, and with the same style license plate. We were both driving in the same town around the same block at the same time. When the officer told me he’d seen me run the stop sign, I was frustrated because I knew that I had not done that! I tried to argue that it was not me who’d done that, but the officer was having none of it. I realized quickly I wasn’t going to win this argument and if I didn’t shut my mouth, it was only going to get worse for me. He gave me a verbal warning and let me go.

Things like that happen in marriage sometimes too. Adam will come to me with “Do you know why I’m upset with you?” I have to quickly decide how I’m going to answer that question. How much does he actually know? Is he talking about what happened yesterday, or does he know about that other thing? Sometimes, I’m genuinely not sure what I’ve done. Occasionally, I completely disagree that what I’ve done was in any way wrong. Rarely, but it happens, I didn’t do what he’s accusing me of. I have choices to make in every situation like these. I can get angry and defensive. I can cry and plead. I can play dumb about it. Or, I can humble myself and listen carefully to what he’s saying whether or not I agree with him. Adam is always willing to listen to my side of the story. He gives me the benefit of doubt much more often than not. He’s never cruel. We do not always agree, though.

Submission does not mean I can’t give my opinions. It doesn’t mean I can’t disagree. Submission is pulling over when you see those red and blue lights flashing behind you. There’s a right way to disagree. If you choose to argue your case, you can go to court and do so, respectfully. If you get belligerent and angry at the officer, it’s not going to end well. That officer has the authority to put you in handcuffs and throw you in jail if you decide to escalate the situation. In the same way, my husband has the authority to discipline me if I refuse to cooperate respectfully. I can still be in submission and argue my case if I just do it in the right way.

It isn’t always easy to submit. It can get ugly real fast if I get indignant and uncooperative because I know I’m right and he’s wrong. Submission is something we all do everyday. We submit to the laws and the people who uphold them. We submit to our bosses. Submission is not something only weak or mindless people can do. I think it takes strength to submit. It takes humility to admit when you’re wrong. It also takes integrity and good character to be worthy of submission. A tyrant can force others to physically submit to their will, but only those who have earned trust and respect are worthy of true submission of the heart, mind, and body.

God + marriage = good sex?

For all of you believers and the secularists out there, I was recently asked about my own faith and how I reconcile that with my insatiable appetite for all things sexy. Everyone who knows Adam and I, know that we enjoy each other’s bodies daily, sometimes multiple times in a day. We have a marriage that those around us repeatedly tell us they envy. My single girlfriends say they want to find their own “Adam”. After more than a decade together, we are still in love and can’t keep our hands off one another. We bicker sometimes, occasionally really piss each other off, but no matter what, we never even think about ending our relationship. Divorce is NOT an option. We pray before meals, attend church, and are open about our faith. And then we go to bed and f#(k each other’s brains out. We have a drawer full of toys and flavored lube. We regularly experiment with new places and positions. We have never brought anyone else into our bed and we are 100% faithful to each other. Besides that, I can’t think of anything we haven’t or wouldn’t try.

I had only one other sexual partner before my husband. He didn’t treat me very well at all. He was selfish and used me like a plaything for his own pleasure without considering or caring for mine. Needless to say, I didn’t particularly enjoy or look forward to sex when I first met Adam. It was just something I did to keep my man interested and happy. Adam showed me a completely new version of sex like I’d never known was possible. He took care to make certain that I was enjoying it. He was cautious about doing anything that might hurt me, unless I specifically asked him for it. Adam had a whole lot more experience than I did with the opposite sex. I almost refused to date him when I found that out because I wasn’t sure I could trust a man to be faithful who had been around the block so many times. I’m so glad I took that risk anyway! Adam has never cheated. I don’t believe he would ever hurt me like that either.

Neither of us had a relationship with God before we got together. Personally, I’d never doubted His existence, but I used to say I just wasn’t ready to be that good yet. Christians are so boring. I’ve learned that’s not the case at all. God is actually pretty kinky! Ever read Song of Solomon?! Of course, the stipulation was marriage and commitment. God wants us to have as much kinky sex as we desire, within the confines of marriage. I happen to be married, so as a Christian, I don’t have to feel guilty about sex. I’m absolutely not judging anyone who isn’t married and enjoys sex. I’ve been there. Adam’s been there, many many times. I’m only trying to explain how my own faith can work with TTWD (This Thing We Do). I believe God intends for a husband to be in authority over his wife. I believe husbands are to love their wife as Christ loves the church, so like, A LOT). I try to live in submission because I believe it’s what we’re told to do, but also because it’s what I deeply desire to do. I feel safe, cherished, protected, loved, wanted, needed, adored when I give Adam the gift of my submission. Is it always easy for me? NO! (Read my blog post immediately ahead of this one lol). I falter, stumble, fail, but that’s where Adam comes in. I want him, need him to love me enough to discipline me. I crave the emotional release I get when the guilt and shame of my destructive behavior are washed clean by my husband’s loving hand.

Is all this biblical or “Christian” of us? I think so. We’re not perfect examples of Christians. Not even close. But, I do not believe for a second that what we do in our relationship with each other is wrong or goes against Christ teachings. I’m sure there are plenty of bible thumping, fire and brimstone believers who’d have lots to say about why I’m wrong. I couldn’t care less what they think, though. I care what God thinks. I care what my husband thinks. Nobody else’s opinions matter much to me.

When he can’t make “fix” it

I’ve had a family member struggling with terrible health issues. I’m doing everything I can to help her. Seeing her unable to do things she once so enjoyed, in tremendous pain, and with good days so unpredictable and growing fewer, it’s all taking a toll on my own emotional health. This is absolutely not her fault. She did nothing to bring this on herself. There is no blame to go around and maybe that’s even more frustrating? I feel helpless. This is out of my control and I can’t make it better. My stress and hormones are all over the place. We have some very important dates coming up early next month where we’re going to learn whether she’s improving or the disease is progressing and if so, how much time we have left with her.

The smallest things seem to set me off. I feel like my cup is too full. Even one extra drop of water and everything spills over. Adam was trying to get some work done using a new computer program that he’s unfamiliar with. It was getting late, I was tired and grumpy. He was struggling and instead of being supportive, or even just walking away, I made him feel like crap. I reminded him of how incapable he was at similar tasks in the recent past. He’s technologically illiterate. He doesn’t understand what a “cloud” is or how it works. He can’t ever remember a freaking password, so he’s constantly having to recover them. After I had sufficiently crucified him, I finally walked away leaving him to fend for himself. I stepped outside and felt the summer night air. I listened to the locusts and watched an owl fly out of a tree and land on our fence. I opened my blog and began to read my own writings from just hours before. My heart softened and I began to realize how cruel and disrespectful I had just been to Adam. I wished so badly I could take it all back. I wished that Adam had told me to knock it off, yelled at me, punished me, anything other than what he’d done. He’d simply sat there and quietly took in all of my tongue lashing. I knew why he’d stayed silent. I knew I had gotten a pass because Adam knows I’m in pain. I think he feels powerless too because he can’t make this pain stop for me. Adam’s a fixer. He sees a problem and he finds a solution. This is not the kind of problem he has any power to fight, though. I can imagine exactly how he must be feeling because I’m struggling with the same emotions feeling useless and weak against the punches life is throwing right now.

I went back inside and found Adam already laying in bed. He patted my side of the bed, the spot right next to him where I sleep every night. I walked over and climbed into bed and I laid my head on his chest and put my arms around his neck. I wanted to erase the things I’d said to him earlier. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was. I couldn’t find words in that moment. Instead I laid there crying silent tears and trying to wipe them away before they fell on his chest and made him aware of my upset. I didn’t deserve comfort. I can tear down my husband’s confidence so quickly with my angry words and defiant actions. I knew I’d hurt him, made him feel small. He let me do it without fighting back because of the pain and the guilt he feels about what I’m going through right now. I took advantage of the deep love he feels for me. I failed miserably at submission last night. I am so very sorry for that.