My favorite place

Well we talked and it was a bit long and lead to a bit of a rabbit hole, but we are straight now.

We wentt to Rome yesterday and I was thinking about how much I love the way The Man is so protective. He holds my hand everywhere. He looks to see where I"m at all the time. He tells me when to cross the street and to watch my step.

I was thinking about how some women would hate it. Some women would be like, oh my gosh, I can cross the street all by myself thank you! But not me. I don't see it as Him thinking I'm incapable, I see it as Him needing His piece of mind that I'm safe. I love that He loves me that much. I love that worries over me. I love that I am that important to The Man.

I know that some women would resent being controlled, watched over, constantly told what to do. I know some would hate asking permission for everything and being held accountable. I know some women would feel suffocated. I don't. I love the way He loves me. I love that it doesn't matter what it is, He is going to make sure that we are okay. That I am okay. That nothing happens to me, and nothing happens to us. I rely on it. I rely on His ability to say no because that would endanger what we have, or you, or some other thing.... even when my knee jerk reaction is to not like it, or to disagree with His call on it... He still says no. He still insists that we don't take any steps that might damage us. Part of that, in His mind, is making sure that nothing happens to me because if something happened to me, then obviously something would happen to us. It's part and parcel and I adore it.

Submission is hard sometimes because it means letting go of what you think, or what you want, or what you like, or your sense of independence. I think for me, the sense of being dependant is probably the hardest thing of all to constantly adjust to..... it scares me how lost I would be without Him, without us. Yet, what scares me more is missing out on a piece of us because I was too scared to take His hand, and let Him guide me across the road.  So I let go, again and again, I let go and I trust in Him and then I wonder what I was even trying to hold onto in the first place because being wrapped up in His protective spirit of "us" is my favorite place to be.

Negative Nancy or Rachel Reality?

This time I know I’m right. It was a bull shit thing to say. Not lady like, I realize, but I don’t have any other way of stating it… it was a bullshit thing to say. It was born of tiredness and stress… got that. Doesn’t make me feel any better. So here it is 1Am and The Man is asleep and I’m stewing. How come they can sleep? I can’t. I stew. Admittedly I asked it be tabled until tomorrow… when being grouchy wouldn’t come into play, but that doesn’t mean I’m sleeping. Don’t get me wrong.. it’s cool they can sleep, I just sort of marvel over that difference. Anyhow.

We have always been on the same page. Reality is your friend. Rose colored glasses are only worn by those scared of facing reality. Reality means acknowledging all of the things about Italy that suck. For real.

Garbage filling the streets.

Buildings that look a lot like Central DC.

Burning garbage that stinks.

Appliances that don’t work…. Ever.

Pollution that makes you marvel over the area being open to Military.

Water that literally has toxic waste.

A crap school.

The people suck for anything other than chatting.

And let’s not even talk about the driving.

Okay. We joke. We make fun. We acknowledge it’s grossness. It’s how we cope.

I made a joke tonight and was informed that we have a long time here and that we needed to be positive about it. Huh. Okay. It wasn’t said nicely… it was filled with biting annoyance. Wow. Got it. I’m negative. Not reality based, negative.. Bullshit thing to say.

I also frequently mention:

That I love this house, despite cleaning it.

I love our view from the patio.

I love the view I wake up to.

I love chatting with the people.

I love the Country side.

I love the sunset.

I love the breeze.

I love everything we have learned here and I wouldn’t take it back.

That covers a few on both sides. See what I mean? Reality is looking at everything. He’s always agreed. When people said I was horrible for not just looking at the great things, I called it reality. He agreed. Only now, guess what? No no… they were right, I’m negative. I need to be positive to make this work. And He wonders why I’d take that personally.

Okay… so show me so many great things then that it’s all I see. Or tell me it was a bullshit thing to say. I’m not interested in it being twisted into meaning something it didn’t mean.

Want to know what I wonder? Will He wake up tomorrow and say it was bullshit? Or does He expect me to lie and stop saying what I think?


~sidenote, written on an old computer and I can't fix the font! So if it looks funny~Sorry!!

Grouchland is not worth visiting

It was HOT! So so so soooo stinkin hot that part of my brain melted, slid out my ear, and landed on the floor somewhere. I swear it's the only possible explanation.

Mr. Man makes a nice paycheck. He provides us with a nice life, a nice house, a nice... everything. Since He provides, He also chooses where said paycheck is disbursed. Fair enough. We live in Italy, as I've mentioned, and this is important for understanding some of the things we deal with. Our house is right by the Ocean.. lovely view, and a breeze that sweeps through with such strength at times it's down right windy in our home. We don't care if it's 90 out because the house is cool. Unless the unthinkable happens... no breeze. When it's 98 outside, and the breeze decides it doesn't feel like waving, this matters... like a lot!

In Italy there isn't central air. There are these things that hang on the top of the wall in each room that are supposed to be air conditioners. Electricity in Italy is insanely expensive. These "fabulous" air conditioners cost around 300 dollars a month, to run one, in one room, for a month, in the evening only. Yes, that's right 300 on top of your already insane electric bill. The Man doesn't feel the need to disburse this amount to the electric company. Again, the vast majority of days... we don't need it, it would be incredibly silly to use them.

Yesterday though was different. I mean oh my gosh... sooooo different.

98... check

humidity... check

zero breeze... check

Man at work in air conditioned office.... check

Me sweltering....check

Are you seeing how we might run into some issues here?

So I'm beyond irritated and I send The man an emailing explaining (read whining) about how hot it was and how miserable I was. I tell Him that I can't get a flippin thing done, not the floors (which I spend my life cleaning btw because they are white marble, seriously, 6 people, 2 dogs, and a persian, white, marble... shoot me), Not the laundry, not the patios, nothing, because it is soooo hot I can't even walk down the stairs without sweating. I'm cranky, really cranky, and hot, and have a list that I can't get done.

He writes me back and tells me to do the floors and then turn the AC on for an hour or so, or don't do anything, or hang out in the hammock.

Well, I don't want to sit in the hot sun! I don't want to do nothing, and I definitely do not want to turn the AC on for an hour or so after doing the stupid floors. I want to shut all the windows, crank ALL the AC units and get my stuff done! Now I'm in Super Grouch mode, thank you, so I take a cold shower, I hang out, and I stew in my grouchiness. I briefly contemplate not putting His laundry away because after all, HE was the one who said not to do anything. Fortunately, my brain, sort of mushy from the heat was still in gear enough to save my backside. Until He comes home.

We hang out, have a drink, I keep the grouchy kinda in check, but do manage to convey how miserable I've been all day and how frustrated I am over not being able to get anything done. He listens, He nods, He understands it was incredibly hot. It's still hot, but not as hot, but it doesn't matter, I don't feel any better... I've been too hot all day to have anything matter at this point.

I go downstairs and proceed to cook in front of a gas stove, sweltering even more... this is where I'm pretty sure part of my brain slid out of my ear. I come back upstairs and before I know it, I'm over the side of the bed and I get 6 quick, fairly painless slaps with His belt.

I was furious. I was soooo angry that I busted into tears on the spot. Now, in this house it's okay for me to be mad... as long as I say my peace (read: don't stomp off or pull away) and say it respectfully. So I do...

I tell The Man flat out I'm angry!

I go on about how I sat in this sweltering house aaallll day!

I didn't get anything done that I wanted to get done because I was so frickin hot!

I make HIS dinner over a gas stove which only leaves me hotter!

I make HIM a drink, HOOF it alllll the way upstairs for Him!

I'm super sweaty and seriously cranky, and after all that, he spanks me?! Doesn't he even care how cranky I am? How hot I am? How much I still did do? Seriously?!

Hmmm did I really just say that? I think I might have just tipped the line on acceptable, but I was soooo right. I mean, was I right or was I right?

He laughed at me.

He pulled me down onto the bed and chuckled at me.

Then Mr. Man goes on to say, "Baby, I told you to turn on the AC for a couple of hours. I told you to lay out in the hammock and work on your tan like you like to do. I told you that you had the day off from chores. I told you to sit around and do whatever you felt like, read, go on the computer, whatever, just stay cool."

"That is not what you said! You said I could turn it on IF I did the floors."

"Did you read what I wrote, baby? Because that email was very clear that you could turn it on for a couple of hours. And if you weren't clear, all you had to do was ask."

Crap! I'd been too far past cranky to really read it. I'd looked for the one line I wanted to see.... turn them all on. He gave me the day off and a couple of hours of AC and I was so busy hosting my pity party that I didn't even see it! Double crap~ I wasn't right! I'm never right! Every time I think, this time, I am so right, He lays it all out for me, and suddenly, I am so NOT right.

He tips my face and gives me that deadly serious look. "And I did think about you, why do you think those slaps were so light? And furthermore, you do what I tell you to do. Whether that's washing the floors, or taking the day off, you don't get to get caught up in what you want, you think about what I've told you to do. It doesn't matter what it is."

Gulp!

"Unless you want 6 more that I guarantee aren't going to be small slaps with that belt you will knock off your BS, got it?"

"Yes Sir."

"I didn't spend all day at work looking forward to coming home and spending time with you, for you to be behaving like this. So, secure the attitude, now, got it?"

Uh huh!

And I did! And that's one of those things that makes all this so great. At another point in my life I would have carried the grouch all the way into bed with me.  Now I don't, now it isn't allowed. I'm so grateful because I don't want to waste one minute I could have enjoying being with The Man, wasted in Grouchland!

I still got it extra hard at bedtime.... just enough to spill some tears and put the exclamation point on the lecture. Just enough to make sure that today I stayed away from Grouchland~ it's a very dangerous place for a girl to go. Especially a girl whose been given a solid warning about the perils of visiting. The Man seems to think that if a warning is given, and NOT duly noted, then you wind up with double! So, today I am staying at Happy Camper Land~ it helps that the breeze is better.

Birthday Spanking?!

TV flicks off, The Man looks at me and says several things, but I can't hear them because I'm stuck on one particular phrase, "Your 41 cane strokes."

I'm sorry, what??

"What?!"

"Yeah, it's your birthday, 41 strokes of the cane just for you."

whaaat??

"Uh but if it's my birthday shouldn't I get what I want?"

"Yeah, and you did. Now you get your Birthday spanking."

"But but I don't want a Birthday spanking."

"See I think that Birthday spankings were invented as an excuse for people who like spanking other people. I like spanking and it's your Birthday."

"I don't recall this from last year, I don't know about new traditions and all that."

"We weren't together last year, oh wait, yes we were, but we were in the middle of moving and exhausted. It's not a new tradition, I did it the year before."

Why don't I remember this? Selective memory perhaps? Think... think....

"But my stoma~" I was going to say was too full from the amazing dinner he made, but realized He'd just put me in some crazy position or make me stand and bend or something. Bad idea. Still thinking.....oh oh got it!

"You know, since you love spanking me and I love to make you happy, maybe you should divvy it up. You know, not do it all in one night. Savor it a bit. Liiiiike say 10 a night for four nights."

"I already give you 10 every night, so you mean 20 every night for four nights."

Now it's true He sends me to sleep with 10, but they aren't that hard usually.... just enough to make me squirm, wriggle, whimper, and make Him happy. 41, even of those though sounded like a lot! And I wasn't convinced that He wouldn't get a little carried away in His enjoyment and wind up wanting to make me reallly wriggle and squirm! Even 20 every night sounded like dangerous territory!

"Noooo no no that isn't really quite what I was thinking. Somehow that turns 41 into like 80!"

"Actually, I don't think I'm going to cane you."

Sideways glance and wait for it because there is no possible way The Man is just letting this go.

"It's supposed to be a spanking after all, so I think I'll paddle you."

OMG!!

"Omg! You aren't going to make me cry are you?!" I do not like paddles, I do not like them, anywhere anytime anyplace that concerns me!

"Come here."

And before I know it there I am, face down, getting a Birthday spanking over his knee... And I had to count, of course I had to count. What is with the counting?! And of course I had to get one to grow on! Which really isn't fair since I'm supposed to be shrinking, not growing... shouldn't I have actually gotten one less?? Just sayin'.

Here's the thing that floors a lot of people... I don't like getting spanked! Not for fun, not for discipline, not for anything. I do love feeling His power, I love submitting to The Man, I love every little thing about it..... except the actual spanking. :) The physical act is the conduit to all the rest that I need and crave. So you can see why, for me, I was not all keen and like woo a spanking. Especially one that was with His hand, which might as well be made of wood, as well as, a real, thick, wooden paddle. Ack! I should also mention that when you are counting to 41, that it suddenly seems like a really big number!

I have to admit though it wasn't nearly as bad as I momentarily feared. I have to admit that the rotation between hand and paddle did make the paddle a little easier. I have to admit that what followed after the paddling was well worth the Birthday spanking. What I'm really wondering about though is how I'm going to get this little tradition to cease before I turn 50 because that is just way too big a number! I've got nine years to figure this out... it seems like that should be plenty of time, and yet, I'm not certain it is.  

I'm already imagining my fiftieth birthday, me stewing and people saying, "It's okay, really 50 isn't bad at all." And I'll be thinking, Yes it is! Don't you know how long it can take to count to 50???

Coming out of the closet

Being wide open was not something I came by naturally. I remember a time when I frequently hid in the closet. The door, much to my chagrin, didn't have a lock, but it was the only place I could go without someone noticing. I never managed to stay in it for very long before The Man would notice I'd become MIA.

I haven't thought about those "closet days" in a long time, and now, they are funny, but back then... not so funny. I'd get overwhelmed, or hurt, or angry, or frustrated or some kind of something and I'd run. I couldn't help it. I was so scared of telling Him.

I wasn't scared of Him, (Well, okay I was and am, but in a good way! ;) I was terrified though of being... honest! What if Mr. Patient got mad? What if He didn't understand and made me feel stupid? What if He laughed at me? What if He thought I was being ridiculous and overly emotional? What if I irritated Him? What if... He didn't listen, or validate, or yelled, or... or.... what if I started crying? How many times could I cry without Him getting sick of it?! What if I was being stupid? What if I was being overly emotional, or unfair?! I needed to hide, to sort it out in my own head, to figure out if I could sweep it under the rug and forget about it! I was a Professional Rug Sweeper, let me tell ya.

Up until then my natural state of being was to sweep everything under the rug until the pile got so high in the corner you were tripping over it. Theeen I'd pull it back and let it a little out. This seemed to have been a good route my entire life. Obviously, it really wasn't because I was flunking in the course of Good Relationships, but hey, it was the system I was comfortable with.

So something would happen that would cause me some sense of anxiety and I'd go to the closet. I thought I could hide there just long enough to figure things out, but it never worked out that way. I'm a slow learner sometimes. I kept trying it. He'd always come find me. Sometimes He'd come sit next to me and we'd talk it all out right there, in what had become "my spot." Sometimes He'd ask me to come out and pull me onto the bed for a snuggle and a talk. Every single time though I wound up getting spanked. Every time.

He never did get angry, or irritated, or make me feel stupid, or overly emotional. He never left me feeling like I hadn't been heard. He'd scoop me up, pull me together and make me reveal every little thought that was flitting wildly through my head and my heart. I'd stammer, and I'd cry, and I couldn't look at Him, but somehow.... it all came out. Then He'd spank me for running. For not being open to Him, for hiding from Him.

Other times I'd be stubborn, tell Him it was nothing. I think I tried telling Him that I just happened to be in the closet looking for something. He pulled me out, threw me over the bed and spanked me into a blubbering mess. Then it would all come pouring out.

Finally, it occurred to me, that if either way you sliced it, I was going to wind up telling Him, maybe I should try to do it without having to go through the spanking, blubbering mess part. I told you, sometimes I am a slooooow learner.

So I began coming, ever so timidly to Him. I think I even said something about how normally I'd be in the closet, but was trying a new route. It was a lot easier. He'd just pull me in to a deep snuggle and patiently listen to fifteen minutes of um... well... it's just that... I mean... :) until I finally got it out. Got it all out without being thrown over the bed before or after.... well, okay sometimes I still wound up over the bed, but in a muuuch better way :)

Now, it's funny how easily I go to Him. I still struggle getting it out, but the stammer is cut down to like five minutes! Sometimes I'm mulling over how to start and He sees it spinning in my head and He asks. I give Him that look that I still can't help of slight insecurity, He takes my hand, pulls me onto His lap, and says, "What's going on baby?" And it tumbles out. A process that used to take two hours of spanking, prodding, crying, and reassurance is now like a ten minute process.

It took four years to get here. Four years of building trust and that's what it comes down to. I trust Him enough to tell Him everything. I trust that The Man is going to hear me, calm me, explain to me, help me, validate me... I trust that He is going to give me whatever it is that I need. I trust that when He said He wants to know everything, He truly does want to know. The Man had to set aside any feelings He had of anger, frustration, irritation, being tired, and focus solely on bringing me back into Him. At some point I had to be brave enough to start stepping into Him instead of running from Him. I still run a little, emotionally, for a minute, but then I remember there isn't anything to run from.

The Sweet Spot

So today I'm thinking a lot, a HUGE amount on how much the Man has changed my life for the better. I don't know what I'd do without Him, I really don't. I come from a crazy family. I mean they take all the fun out of dysfunctional. You can't even get a good laugh out of it because you are so busy scooping your jaw off the floor. The really crazy part is that they aren't even alcoholics or anything, they are just totally off the charts crazy! Okay, they were mostly raised by alcoholics so that probably has something to do with it, but still it's their very own brand of insane.

Here's the problem... I was raised differently. I have completely different reactions to things. I like to call my reactions... sanity. They however, do not recognize sanity because they well, aren't sane. It's unfamiliar territory to them. To them, I am the insane one who needs "fixing," because since they all see things the same way, and I'm the odd man out... obviously, I am the crazy one. The fact that I have an amazingly happy life where everything I ever dreamed of is a part of it, while they live in various states of misery, doesn't seem to register with them.... of course that's part of the whole "crazy factor." 

Another piece of the "crazy factor" is that when you are the one sane person amongst insanity you begin doubting yourself. It's truly bizarre, but it happens. They have this way of sucking you in. They have this way of making you think, that just maybe, since you are the only one in the herd, it really is you! 

When I met The Man, he asked me three things I wanted to work on for me. I listed being able to get disentangled from my family, as one. I kept trying to do it. I, in fact would do it for awhile, but somehow, they'd always reel me back, send me to the brink of insanity... and then I'd reign myself in. I told Him that I'd really like to stop that particular merry go round. It wasn't healthy. It did nothing, but produce negativity in my life, but I just didn't know how to do it. I admit, at that point, I still could get hung up on "family obligation." I also don't like fighting, or conflict and I couldn't ever seem to sort of go my own way, without a major fight!

So here's The Man. He comes along and He teaches me what love really is all about. He teaches me how to be honest without being hurtful. He teaches me to examine my own hypocrisies. He teaches me to listen without judgment. He teaches me to see the world in a whole new beautiful light. Or maybe, it'd be better to say that He taught me all of the things I thought might be true, were. He taught me how to not only think of boundaries, but to actually put them in place. He taught me to be true to myself and my beliefs. He helped change me into who I always wanted to be. Or better yet, He taught me how to be strong enough to be true to myself.  I was trying to be healthy in a situation that was impossible to be healthy in because I didn't have anyone shoring me up, saying, no honey, it isn't you that sees this all kinds of messed up.. it IS all kinds of messed up. Whew! 

So at long last, I've become disentangled. I can not adequately express what a relief it is. I can not begin to express how grateful I am to have Him, shoring me up, and teaching me how wide open love can be. There's the key though. In order for Him to help me learn all of these things, I had to be wide open to Him. No hiding. No secrets. No hidden fears or guilt. Wide open all of the time. He insisted on it and when it was hard, He forced it. 

I see TTWD as a piece of the whole... The marriage is about being wide open to each other, without secrets, judgments, recriminations, criticism, and so on. I think the relationship is supposed to make you a stronger, better, healthier, happier, you. I don't know why spanking seems to help make people more open to one another, it just does. To me, that's the whole point, being wide open to one another, that's the sweet spot, that's where you find everything; truth, love, yourself, and your very best friend.

Love this!

Vapors

So I'm on FB and someone posted one of those things. You know the things I'm speaking of.... the cartoon of a fifties wife saying something really witty, like, "Toss your hopes and individuality in here." While pointing to the washing machine. There were others cracking on how it's thanks to Valium that she can be such a great wife. On and On and isn't it hilarious.

I hate those things. I hate the idea that is constantly sold to us, as women, that we can not be happy as a wife, as a mother. I hate the idea that was propagated to me, and that I bought into, that I had to be something more in order to be fulfilled.

I was in constant conflict because all I wanted to be was a wife and a mother, and that meant that I didn't want to be enough. I hated the desire within to be a submissive wife because that's an idea that is openly scoffed at and ridiculed.

You have to be strong and independent and in charge. You have to keep yourself emotionally protected, even from, especially from, your husband. Being submissive in any environment is not acceptable, but especially not in marriage. It means you are a doormat. It means you aren't interesting. It means you aren't happy, but rather plodding along in misery. And most important of all, is that men don't want a submissive wife because they are all of those things. Who wants to be married to a doormat? What's interesting and stimulating about that? Men want a challenge! Men respect you for screaming, er I mean, telling them how wrong they are all of the time, and showing them how right you are all of the time. Really, that's how it works.

Chasing vapors... that's what the Man calls it. Those moments when I think, when I fall back on the idea, that I might be... omg... gasp... boring. I mean I just do what He tells me to do. I just ask questions when He's making a decision and then I let it go when He decides. I don't argue with Him. I don't get mad at Him, I just...... trust Him. I must be boring. I must be a doormat. I must be a shell of a woman. Really, everyone says so! It must be true!

Only He doesn't think I'm boring. He thinks I'm wonderful. He thinks the trust and faith I put in Him make Him a better Man. Being submissive and obedient to Him, makes me the most wonderful woman in the world, in His eyes. The most interesting. The one He wants by His side in all things.

I used to struggle with giving in, in part, because I was scared of not being that head strong, wild, impulsive, independent woman. Actually, I was keen on getting rid of her, but I was scared He would think I was boring. Even though it was all I really wanted.... what if it meant that I wasn't enough? Only in His eyes, me being just me.... submissive, dependant, obedient, doesn't make me less, it is in fact, the very thing that makes me more.

Post inspired by Sara's comment :)

Sara's comment inspired a thought for me. Normally at this time of the night I'd be making dinner, hanging out with the Man, talking about how our day went and so on. Today though is different. He had to take then kids somewhere and they wound up in an accident... just a fender bender... not a big deal.. thankfully! In the states this would be one of those times that you exchange info and carry on with your day. In Italy, a fender bender results in about 6 hours of paperwork. The police come. The traffic investigators come. The translators come. Then after all of that is hashed out, you go to the station and type up your accident report. Yep, that's right, YOU, type it up. All for a fender bender.. sigh. So, here I am all alone and feeling kind of odd about it, I admit. I'm a creature of habit, and all this quiet is, well, just weird! It's sort of nice, but I am certainly experiencing a, "what do I do with myself" moment!

Anyhow, I thought I would explain how it works in His house. It's pretty simple. Most of the time I know the minute something occurs that is going to get my butt burning. Honestly, I've gotten His expectations down enough that it doesn't happen that much anymore. When it does, it's one of those, "OMG! What I was thinking? How could I have spaced on that?" moments. On rare occasion, I've gotten snappy, realized it, and thought wow, did I really just do that?? All He has to do is point and I know... what's a girl to do? Snappy is snappy, ya know? There isn't a whole lot to do, but take the position. 

More often that not, at this stage, He will say something like, "So, it seems to me that you were supposed to..." And I gulp, but then explain. Explain, not justify. There is a huge difference. Explaining is telling Him that I was supposed to do x, but I couldn't for such and such a reason. Like:

"Weren't you supposed to order gas today? "

"Yes, but the phone lines were down for six hours." 

That is not the filibuster I was once famous for trying to create :) I realize though that if He weren't the way He is, I wouldn't be so obedient. If my gabbing, justifying, manipulating tactics had ever paid off, then guess what? I'd still be doing them! Why wouldn't I? Getting spanked hurts! If I thought I could weasel out of them, then why on earth wouldn't I try? I'd like to say that I'm really fabulous and would never ever do such a thing, but that's a flat out lie, I would.  

He never let it fly. He has always given me a moment to present a reason for failing in getting something done, changing a behavior and so on (Okay, never a reason for being snappy/disrespectful) but it has to be a true reason. An exception. Car accident, internet down, phone lines out, sort of thing, and anything short of that means I'm toast. When I finally realized that, it was a whole lot easier just to get on with it, and life got better.  Submitting and obeying became easier. There wasn't any point in the filibuster, it wasn't going to work. Obey. Bend over. Get it the heck over with it AND learn the lesson. So now, yeah, he says go, and I go. 

I am sooooo thankful that He is this way. I am grateful I can't filibuster, cajole, flirt, or tease my way out. I needed that. I yearned for it. I almost gave up thinking I'd ever find a Man that would be strong enough to compel my true submission, my peaceful obedience. I will never ever stop thanking God and contemplating my good fortune.

Oh~ I'm weird... I do better with a cane than anything else... even His hand, if anyone can figure that one out, please feel free to enlighten me!

Ah, yay they are on the way home, so I have to fly to make dinner! 

Strip, bend, grab, wait.

Now since I know the consequences for not doing something the way He's decided He wants it, you would think I'd be totally on top of it, right? Especially since there aren't that many truly small things He cares about, you would think that when He mentioned one, my ears would perk, right? That it would become this big yellow post it on my brain, right? Me too! Only somehow, it doesn't always quite work out that way. Mental forehead slap!

The Man and I are so intertwined that I frequently know what He's thinking. I just sense it. He's started making the joke that since I'm so in tune with Him, I should get punished for not doing something He thought of, but forgot to mention. I don't think that's a very funny joke, personally.

So last night after dinner, I was doing the dishes and I had this horrible, niggling sensation, that I was going to be getting in trouble, but I couldn't figure out why! Maybe it was because He'd grilled me on a few things? But I'd passed on all of them! I'd had a moment or two of thinking, oh my gosh! But then realized, wait, yes, I did get that done! Yay me! So why on earth would I be in trouble??? I decided I couldn't be. I'd done everything. I was a good girl! No need to sweat it!

I plod up to third floor (Yes, our bedroom is on the third floor, why I do not have an ass of steel, I have yet to figure out!) step out to the balcony, where he is sitting, and say, "Wow, what a beautiful sky!"

He looks at me and says, "Yes it is. Now, go inside, take off your dress, bend over, and grab your ankles."

omg! crap! crap! craaaap! I want to pout, and whine and ask what I did, but I don't. I go, I strip, I bend, I grab, and I wait. I wait while He closes the door. I wait while He picks a cane. I wait while I wonder what I did. I wait while the fear builds and builds inside of me. I wait for all of thirty seconds until He's standing next to me, thirty seconds that felt like countless minutes. Have I mentioned obedience is hard?

"Do you know what you did?"

"No." It's a breathless squeak.

He tells me. It's a small annoyance, but it's one He's repeated over and over to me, yet somehow I repeatedly forget to make a sticky note on my brain about it. He reminds me that He isn't all that into repeating Himself.

The Man begins swooshing, I begin my screaming, sobbing, breathless apologies. Once He feels His point has been adequately delivered He pulls me up, wraps His arms around me, and cuddles me into His chest. He kisses my head, strokes my back, and whispers in my ear until all of my tears are shed. I tell Him how sorry I am I caused Him an ounce of irritation. I hate when I do, not because of the consequences, but because He's so damn great that I just can't stand to be the source of the smallest angst. He smiles and says, "Don't you know it's impossible for me to be irritated with you?"

Really?

Later in the night, I said to Him, "You really don't get irritated with me?"

"No. Well, yes I do, but only for a minute, as soon as I see you bending over any irritation I felt is gone."

"How come?"

"Because you look so good like that."

Maybe the stairs are making a difference on my ass after all?! Maybe I don't need that stupid elliptical?! Probably this qualifies as false hope.

"And because as soon as I see you being so accepting of being punished, being so obedient, and just bending over when I tell you to, it all dissipates."

I used to finagle, pout, reason, and basically try to filibuster. Geeze, God, could I drag it out... to a point. Eventually He'd say enough, but until that point, I really tried! Once I figured out it was pointless and simply accepted my medicine, life became sooo much easier. And this morning? You better believe His message was etched into my brain! The source of irritation was taken care of before His feet hit the kitchen floor.

Attitude Counts

Mr. Man has some of the craziest ideas, I swear! Personally I've always been of the mind that as long as I obeyed, does it matter if I did it happily? I mean as long as I complied... we are all good, right? Only Heeee always had this idea that not only should I obey Him, but I should always do it happily. Good grief!

I look at the struggles some of the new people go through. I remember those struggles! I think almost all of us come into this arena, which I'm going to call a traditional relationship, with very clear ideas! We read stories that are erotic, or loving, and in the best scenario, a mix of both! We imagine how it would be to have a big, strong, husband really taking care of us; Making decisions, leading us, holding us accountable, and just being... men. Real men. John Wayne kinda men. Ssswooon!

Only then you are actually dealing with one and visions of Maureen O'Hara stomping off somewhere makes so much sense to you! It can be hard, and frustrating, and no one mentioned how much a spanking really frickin hurts! No one told you that sometimes you will hate his decision and guess what? It isn't that he didn't hear you and it needs repeating... it's that his decision isn't the one you wanted. Annnd you have to accept it with grace! ARGH!

Submission is hard. Obedience is doing as they say, even when all you want to do is stomp your foot and scream! There was a time when The Man would look at me and say, "Go ahead, stomp your foot, I know you want to." And I would! And man, I'd feel better for it, then I'd wander off and do His bidding. I was never allowed to yell or get smart out of anger, but I could stomp :) I put every little ounce of angst into that stomp, let me assure you. 

 At least for a minute I could stomp, then I was expected to comply in a peaceful manner. I could fume inside. I could hate it with every breath, I could totally NOT want to do it, as long as I did it, and did it well, and did it with a smile on my face. Attitude counted. I could have my momentary fit, but then I'd better get over it and be focused on accepting/doing whatever it was He commanded. At some point He'd pull me in close and whisper in my ear a reminder about why I'm His, why I obey, why I really, ultimately want to please Him. Those whispers still get me all warm and fuzzy and happily trotting to His will.... usually! 

Admittedly there are few times anymore that I desire a foot stomp. I can't even tell you when the last time I desired one was. There are still times when I don't like something, but I've learned there's a big difference between resisting due to fear, and resisting due to dislike. Do you fear his decision? Do you fear his leadership? Or is it that you just don't like it.

I realized that fear, for me, comes from a lack of faith. Faith equals trust. Fear equals faith. They go hand in hand, and if I'm fearing his decision it's because I'm experiencing a lack of faith in His choice. These moments are few and far between now, and when they happen I spend some serious time questioning the source of my lack of faith. Honestly, at this point in our relationship I usually discover the lack of faith isn't even in him anymore, it's in myself. It took a long time, a lot of heart to hearts, patience, pressure, action, and love, to get to a place where He held my absolute faith. Was I obedient? Yes, but was my heart always in that obedience? No, ergo foot stomping. 

The fear based rebuffing is completely different from just not liking something.. I don't liiiiike having to exercise. I'd be quite content to whine about needing to lose weight while eating some awesome, homemade enchiladas, and drinking beer. The Crazy Man thinks I should not only exercise, but do it happily, without even whining about it! Just like I accept any decision/thing He chooses without stomping my foot, so too, should exercise come from a place of joy in submission. I have excelled in one area because it was about having faith/trust and losing my fear. The other one though, is somehow harder. I think because it's the smaller moments of, meh I just don't wanna, I don't like it, whine, whine, pout, that are seemingly inconsequential. I mean they aren't as important as taking a leap of faith, right? So how much does it matter? Sigh... a lot. 

Mr. Man told me to think on this today. Think on being a good girl and all the different ways that being obedient means not just being, but joyfully being, obedient. Happily accepting what His desire is, (Here's the clincher) regardless of what that desire is. In other words, not just when we are talking about the big, scary, leap of faith, all your trust vested stuff, but the small~ just don't like it and it makes me pout, stuff too. So I've thought and realized that obedience and submission means focusing on Him even in the small things. I've rediscovered what I already knew~ it requires a tremendous amount of selflessness, but then so does being a great leader. The selflessness on both sides, in even the small ways, is what keeps this circle going round. 

Why should I be happy to exercise? Because sometimes being submissive and obedient is about working through your lack of faith. Other times though, it's about learning how to disregard your knee jerk dislike/crankiness over the matter and truly finding the joy in just doing it because it makes Him happy. When I focus on the joy of submitting to Him, I find the joy in the action itself. The action becomes representative of my submission, my love for Him. 

So that's what I'm working on.. letting go of the dislike factor, accepting it with grace, and then some day, maybe even deciding I like Him enough, to like the action He is insisting upon. Okay, I already like Him enough ;) but I still need some work on getting to the liking it piece. Mantra: Elliptical represents submission and love, embrace it with joy. The lesson has been reiterated, but the mantra is going to need some work.

Maintenance?!

It all started with one of my very funny little smart ass remarks. I think they are funny. Usually He thinks they are funny. Of course that's because I've learned the difference between what He will find funny, and what He, well, uh, won't. You can gently tug the tigers tail and get a fun little growl, or yank it and get mauled.

I was popping into bed and giggling over a comment I thought of, but kept to myself.

"What are you laughing about?"

"Sometimes I'm amazed at how well I keep the tongue in check now."

Pulling me in close to His chest with a twinkle in His eye... "I don't spank you enough."

Clearly the man is crazy! He wakes me up with happy swats. He sends me to bed with happy swats. He comes home from work and gives me happy swats. He makes love to me with harder swats. In between all that, if I've done something wrong, He gives me the not so fun, happy, omg I'm gonna die, swats! Not enough?!

Giggling~ "Not enough? How in the world do you figure that?"

Pulling me deeper into His chest~ "If I spanked you enough, you wouldn't even have the thoughts that need keeping in check."

Full chortle now~ "So you're going to start spanking me for thoughts?!"

"I'm thinking maybe I should do maintenance with you."

Maintenance? Maintenance? I thought that's what all that swatting through out the day was! This is starting to sound a little worrisome. We don't already do maintenance?!

"Maintenance?"

"Yep. I think every Friday night, six good strokes of the cane, bent over grabbing your ankles."

Okay, this isn't funny anymore. Dead, heart stopping silence.

"I think it would be a good way to make sure we're even for all of the things you think and do that you don't confess to."

Blink, blink.. and then I can't help it, burst of laughter..."Maintenance equals being even?!"

"I think so. I like that, but here's the problem; you have a hard enough time confessing. (It's true, unless it's really bad, I don't confess if I'm not asked. I figure if He didn't ask, then it wasn't that important. I can take care of it the next day without any harm or foul, thank you)  I think if I instituted the Friday rule, you'd stop confessing all together, you'd just say, oh well, I'll pay for it on Friday. And we still wouldn't be even because you would have racked up a lot more than the six."

Does The Man know me or what?!  "I swear I love that you know me so well."

Snuggling me even deeper and kissing the top of my head, "I do at that, baby. Besides, I love your spirit and I'm glad you haven't lost it."

Bliss!

Faaaaabulous Friday!

I love Fridays. Friday nights are the best time of the week. The week is done and put away, yet you still have the whole weekend ahead of you. Not a single moment of the weekend has slipped by and left you wondering where it went. 

In the Mr.Man household we are BIG on appreciation. We spend a lot of time telling each other and showing each other how much we appreciate one another.  Having a good marriage takes a lot of work from both parties. Knowing that the other person doesn't take it for granted, but rather receives it with gratitude, goes along way in keeping the circle going.

I doubt it's easy being the "Big Man." He works hard, long hours to provide for us. He's always there for us whether it's that we need a shoulder to cry on, a good long heart to heart, or a serious kick in the butt. (Okay more like paddle, but you get the idea) He doesn't come home and stare at the TV... He might have a small internet news addiction, but we can forgive that :D I can tell Him anything in the world and He won't yell at me, He won't make me feel like an idiot, or embarrassed.... He'll just listen and make everything okay. In fact, that sums Him up... He always makes everything in the world, okay. He carries our world on His shoulder and that's gotta be a pretty heavy weight.

Likewise, I have to carry my side of the equation. I have to be emotionally open and vulnerable to Him all of the time. I have to think in terms of Him, all of the time... not what I feel like having for dinner, or what I feel like doing, but Him. How can I please Him in this moment? I have to be honest in every possible way. I have to be open to whatever it is He wants at any given moment. I have not just be obedient to what He says, but also to what I know He wants. Other women are out mindlessly blowing their husbands paycheck on shoes (mind you, I'm speaking of nonworking wives) while I'm asking if I can buy a new crockpot.

The crazy thing is that none of this feels like work to either of us. It's just what we do, and we do it with happiness. We fill our roles bringing great contentment to each other. There is really something to the idea that you get back a lot more than you give. It never feels like "giving."

So Since Friday kicks off the weekend I try to do something extra great for The Man. It sets the tone for a loving weekend when He walks in the door and sees I've been thinking of Him and anticipating the weekend with Him. I figured I'd share the idea in case someone else wanted to pick up on it. Okay, I admit it, I encourage everyone to pick up on it :D

So, in case you're thinking... geeze what could I do? I don't have much time! 

Wear a skirt or dress if you normally don't.

Do your hair and make up and look really beautiful just for Him.

Be bent over the bed with your skirt flipped up and His favorite implement laying next to you.

Cook His favorite meal.

If the laundry makes Him crazy.. tackle it!
(Okay so that one isn't great if you don't have much time, but maybe you are home today) 

The point is... do something!  And most importantly..... Tell Him! If that's the only thing you do that's okay, it's the best part... sit on His lap and tell Him how much you appreciate the weight He shoulders for you, and the love He gives you.

I know it might sound obvious, but ya know, sometimes we women make a lot more out of the little things that we don't think are quite right, than all of the things we think are perfect ;)

Have a great weekend!

Label me That

I admit it... I used to get really hung up on labels. I needed one that described me. I needed one that I could easily identify with... hey, we all do it! We like labels, despite our insistence that we shouldn't do it, we like them! We hear the label and boom! we can deduce something about the person and whether or not we think they will fit in with us, or more apt, will we fit in with them? With that group? Will we be accepted? So for ease, for quick deduction, we label. We've always done it, and we listen to our kids doing it.

She's a cheerleader

He's a Jock

She's the Prom Queen type

He's a Lawyer

She's a teacher

He's a Republican

She's a liberal

They are really religious

The list and labels goes on and on. It's all well and fine really, it's what we do. 11 Years ago when I started exploring this thing that had niggled relentlessly in the back of my brain... I was flummoxed! So many labels that I didn't know, let alone could identify with. 

"So, what are you?" 

"Uh, what am I?"

"Yeah, are you a bottom, top, switch, slave, sub, Domme, spanko, brat, 50's lifestyler, what?" 

"Uh... is there an I dream of Jeannie group?" 

Wouldn't it be awesome to hear, "Yeah, next door on the left."

Anyhow~

I tired them on, sub, slave, bottom, spanko, brat, but I seemed to caveat myself out of each of them. I mean, each one hit the spot (HA!) here, or there, but none of them were really all inclusive of who I am. I like all inclusive. I mean I understand there are exceptions to each thing, but when you feel like: I'm z, well, I mean I'm z, but with more s than t, and there isn't any r involved, and I'd be cool with more t, but he likes v better... give me a break!

It's taken me 4 years with Mr. Man to finally get what I am, what I always really longed to be:

Not a modern wife.

Not an independent wife.

An obedient wife.

His obedient wife.

For years I tried to figure out how to walk the line between how our relationship exists and how to portray myself to other people. I really struggled. You feel like you have a secret. You feel like you are pretending to be able to make decisions that are no longer yours to make.. and most women don't understand that. You can't say to someone, "Gee, Louise, I'd love to buy that, but I have to ask Joe for permission." 

Okay, maybe you can, but with the women I know, you sure couldn't.... at least not without some major blow back.  

I was constantly on this wire, trying to be seen "correctly", trying not to reveal "the secret" all while being asked, "How do you guys have such a great marriage?"

Uh......... blink blink 

I finally got it though... I can say, we have a traditional marriage. I can define respect, and obedience, and striving to make Him happy, under that label. And I can still be funny, and I can still be a smart ass (oh so carefully ;D). I can explain why I like keeping the house clean, and making Him breakfast, and listening about His job, and dressing in skirts and dresses, and being a wife. I can explain what being a wife, to me, and to Him, means. Suddenly I have a label, a definition, that suits me, that I don't have to feel like I'm hiding from. Freedom! And more importantly, I have a corner stone to speak from on why our marriage is so great. I want to be able to tell people. I want to help other people explore themselves, and their marriage. I want to help people find the love they doubt really exists. 

When you feel like you have to hide a piece of yourself from everyone else, especially a piece that makes you so happy, you wind up feeling really conflicted about it. You struggle with submitting to Him, because it's wrong. Society says so! And see how screwed up you are because you can't even tell people that you do submit to Him, further proving just how wrong it is... it has to be a secret! Look, submission is hard. Obedience is hard. Even though you desire it, it's still hard. It flies in the face of everything we've been taught. (I'm not supposed to like doing His laundry, I am suppose to bitch about Him leaving it on the floor! Really, just ask anyone!) Pile on the secrecy and you are talking about serious inner conflicts that compound each other exponentially.  

Once I figured that out, once I could let go of all the other titles, and secrets, I could just.. be. I could just be His obedient wife. Striving to please Him. Striving to be more obedient to His desires. I'm never going to be perfect at it. I'm always going to wind up bent over the side of the bed swearing I'll try harder, but now I have a label. I have the name of what exactly I'm striving for... An obedient wife, and everything that label encompasses in my (and His) mind.

Thank You! And Frustration!

So here's the thing, we live in Italy. I know, I know it sounds really fantastic doesn't it? Well, we live in Southern Italy where nothing ever actually fully works! I am also, obviously using Blogger, which can have it's own little tantrums once in a while. Soooo here I am, trying to give a HUGE thank you to people for reading thus far. I am trying really hard to say thanks to Jenny for not only reading, but also commenting. I'm attempting with all my might to tell Bonnie how much I truly appreciate her warm welcome and putting me on her site.... and I can't! I can't do anything other than post. =( argh!

It could be Blogger. It could be more Italian internet issues (it's been on the downslope for 8 hours here), and it could even, possibly be.... me! I admit, sometimes I make things a little (er maybe a lot) harder than they have to be. So, once Mr.Man gets home, he'll look at it and he'll at least say, "Baby, it was you" and fix it... or He will sigh in His own frustration. The plus to Him sighing, and it not being me, is that I get to feel that rush of.. YAY it wasn't meeee! The downside is that it still won't be fixed =/ For once I will hope that it's me!

At any rate, thank you, thank you! I was going to post a real entry today, but now that I've messed around with this for much longer than I care to admit, I have more pressing wifely type of duties to get moving on!

The Story (Part One)

I started off on this path almost 11 years ago. It seems so long ago! The exploration, research, figuring it out, discovering that I wasn't actually alone in the crazy meanderings of fantasies unmet. I think that was the very best part... I wasn't alone! Not only that, but it didn't have to be a fantasy, it could even be reality. It was reality for some!

I brought it up to my husband, he tried~ kinda. He just didn't get it... not really. Honestly, I didn't get it all either. When you are new, there are growing pains, and trying to make sense of what you are, who you are, what you need, what you want, what you like, and what you don't! With each layer you figure out, a new one is revealed... and with it a new question. He couldn't guide me through that... heck, he couldn't guide me through anything! Which is probably a big part of why I was soooo hungry for it. I was so tired of being the guide in everything! I tried to let it go, I figured that he couldn't be what I needed any more than he could change the color of his eyes. Except then I realized that just like he couldn't be what I needed, I couldn't live without any of my needs being met. Eventually we split, and not because of DD, but because of so many, many, many ways that neither of us could get what we needed from the other. 

I dated for a few years. Entrepreneurs, County Directors, Ministers, Military men, all strong, all successful, all spankers! Life was good, except for two tiny things. Okay, not so tiny. If they fell in love with me, they stopped being strong... ugh. They wanted to "Please me" and "do whatever to make me happy" which was completely the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted strong. I needed strong. I didn't want to rule their worlds, I wanted them to rule mine.

The second problem was that even if they didn't fall in love with me, it never took long for me to wear them down. Subtle manipulation, a little sexual seduction, a whine here, a pout there, a bit of indignation, a litany of reasons explaining how it really wasn't my fault.... I could wear them down. Not every time, but often enough that it was exasperating. I didn't want to win, but I sure had to try, I couldn't just hand them their victory. I couldn't just meekly fold. I wished I could, geeze it'd make life a lot easier, but it wasn't in me. I had to be taken! Wasn't there a man out there strong enough for me?!

I decided that maybe I was better off just dating. Maybe I was just too stubborn. Maybe I was just too manipulative and crafty... and maybe that was okay.  I mean, I was a pretty happy person. I loved my life actually. Loved my house, my community, had a lot of friends, three great kids, and was on the way to figuring out the crazy thing called a career, so what the heck. Why not just date and have fun? I could date a while, meet interesting men, enjoy them while it lasted, and then move on. If that's how I spent my life, well, that was better than being in the wrong marriage for sure... I could sort of have the best of both worlds, right? I mean it wasn't really the best, but it was a decent enough compromise, right? So okay, good to go, new plan! I like plans, plans make me feel good, happy, and in control :)

Well, we know what they say about the best laid plans. I wound up on a dating site, via a friend. She asked me to check out a guy she was looking to date. Okay, sure, I look, he seemed decent enough, whatever. Only then curiosity got to me :) And you know the story about the cat, right? Yeah. I checked out who was within an hour of me, and the second profile I saw made my heart stop. One flash of the picture and everything in me said, that's the guy. Weird. Scary. I left it alone :) For like four months. Seriously! I'd go back and look at his profile every so often to see if he'd found someone. He was still looking. Hm. He crept into a couple of dreams. Weird! Finally at 3 Am on a Saturday (okay Sunday) morning, when I couldn't sleep... I emailed him. Three lines.

Six days later I was meeting him for dinner. I drove there thinking, this is it, if this guy isn't the one for me, I'm really sticking with the plan... I'm giving up the ghost, I'm a dating only girl!

The Story (Part Two)

Earlier in the week I had been texting him while on my way to do some shopping. He told me right there and then to stop texting him immediately. Texting while driving was absolutely not allowed. Hm, okay. I agreed, and I even kind of followed it. It wasn't like I'd even met the guy, so really how much was I going to obey His rule?! However, in the spirit of the best foot forward, I did at least try... mostly. I waited until I was at a stop light, or a very long, slow moving, traffic jam. Sometimes it would be when I was so close to where I was going I was practically there... like pulling into the parking lot. 

Saturday night had rolled around and I was supposed to meet him at 6. I knew he was pretty big on punctuality from previous conversations and I rolled into the lot right at 6 on the nose. I wanted him to know I was there... on time. I was not, at that time, particularly punctual, so I was feeling pretty pleased with myself for getting there on the dot.... maybe not in the door, but definitely there. As I turned into the lot, I glanced up, saw a spot, and sent a text as I maneuvered into the space. The text I got back was simple... "I know, I'm looking right at you." crap! Seriously?! 

I look up and sure enough, he's parked in the car that mine is now nose to nose with. I couldn't believe the odds of that, seriously, who does that happen to? And yet, that pretty much defines how our entire relationship has gone. Somehow, He is always just there... He just knows what I'm doing, He just knows the exact question to ask to make everything in me tumble out. And I love Him for it. 

At that particular moment though, I just laughed. What else could I do? He held a smile that teetered between amused and disbelief. We started dinner at 6 and we left when the place closed at midnight. We stood outside at his car for another two hours. Talking... and by then... kissing, and laughing, and talking some more. At one point He wheeled me around and He got me, in no uncertain terms, for the texting while driving. He didn't ask. He didn't worry if it was okay. He just did it! I was hooked. I was done for. I was all in, albeit with baited breath, hoping against hope He was everything He seemed to be. He was. He is. That night was the start of the greatest love affair I could ever hope to experience. That night was four years ago, we've never looked back, other than to laugh, and see how far we've come. 

So that's how we started, two people looking for something different. Something bigger and better than previously experienced. Two people who went into it just being themselves and hoping that was enough for the other. Two people figuring if it wasn't enough then that would be the way the cookie crumbled, and life would still be good. We were lucky, we were exactly what the other person needed, wanted, and dared to hope existed.  

We've had bumps and scrapes and peeled back infinite layers that were tough to get to, but He is always... just there, for me, for us. He is the Patriarch, the provider, the head of the house, the protector of us, of our relationship. He is the disciplinarian, and the leader, and He has given me every reason and tool, to both desire being, and to become, an obedient wife.