I have so many things to share, so much to write. I have half a dozen drafts of posts, and notes here and there, my mind swirling with things to write. It's how I think, how I process, how I understand, by writing. So, stay tuned. More to come. ;)
Today, I want to write about what I experienced yesterday. It's pretty much what I experience every Monday.
I am grateful Jason has a fairly traditional 9-5 job. Weekends are ours, and I love that they are. We are busy people. We have a house teeming with people, day and night. We have to work hard at being alone, and having our down time, but we always manage to connect on the weekends. I get spanked (woohoo!), we watch tv together, and I revel in the little things like taking a car ride, or Sunday morning brunch, or going on a date.
But then Monday morning comes around. I get spanked every single Monday morning. Jason makes it a priority. He is going back to work, and I have to say good-bye to him. The responsibility is all mine again -- the kids, the house, the weight of the work I'm doing, managing it all. So every single Monday morning, that man o' mine pulls me over his lap and gives me a good, hard spanking and goes over my rules. I need it. It helps so much for me to stay focused during the day.
Those of us who crave being spanked know the feeling of when we sit, or stand, and we feel those twinges, that physical reminder of having been taken in hand...how it feels. The residual pain of a role affirmation spanking brings me solace. It takes me back to being over his lap, where I am vulnerable but safe. Back to where I am all his, and deeply loved.
I got a sound paddling yesterday morning -- just exactly what I needed -- and throughout the day I would periodically reflect on being taken over his knee. It made me smile to myself. As I went about the tasks at hand, I would wonder how he was doing, who he was with, and as I busied myself with what I need to do, the pain of missing him became just a steady, but distant ache.
I washed the laundry, and cleaned my house, and cooked dinner. I read to my children, and fed them, and played games with them. I took them outside and enjoyed the beautiful fall day. But always, ever present at the back of my mind, is my husband. His warm smile. The silly, funny things he does that make me laugh. How I feel when he takes my hand. That quiet, steady voice that chides me and says, "Be a good girl" before he leaves for the day.
I am a busy person, and so is he, but the reality is, I am not myself until I am back with him. It's like...I do what I need to do, but I'm holding back. I put on my game face. But it's just not...right...until he's home again.
I send him messages throughout the day. He wants me to. I'm supposed to check in with him and let him know how things are going, and I love that he wants this from me. Yesterday, I was in a silly mood, so I sent him a few teasing messages and his responses had me laughing out loud and smiling to myself. We sparred back and forth. When I see his name in my inbox, my heart races a bit faster. When I hear the phone ring and see his number, I put everything else down and answer. I love hearing his voice. It makes me happy.
So finally, the day draws to an end. The house is tidied, the kids are situated, dinner is simmering on the stove. I glance at the clock and find myself counting down the minutes until he's home. The second I see him, I smile. I love to watch him.
Sometimes I sit next to him while he reads, and I try to read myself, but really, I'm just admiring him. I try to do it discreetly, but sometimes I just can't help myself and I have to reach out and touch him. I run my finger down his jaw, outlining the scruff of his beard. I reach out and touch his strong, powerful hands. And yes, sometimes my heart skips a beat when my eyes come to rest on the belt around his waist. And when he turns to me and smiles, his blue eyes crinkling at me, and his hand reaches out and draws me close to him, I smile.
So yesterday, he came home. And I was dying to connect with him. He asked me how my day was and I told him, and we chatted. I said, "So, you don't want to know about my rules?" and he said, with that stern voice, "Do you have something you need to tell me?" My heartbeat spiked and I shook my head. "No, no, I've been an angel today!" He smiled and said, "That's my good girl."
We had a few minutes together, but he had to work. I knew he did. So I knew he wanted to have some down time before he worked, and I gave him his space.
What I wanted to do was run to him. I wanted to kneel by him, and have him put his arms around me. And I did, a bit, but not as much as I wanted to. I wanted him to have his down time and not have to fuss about little ol' me. I sat by him, but didn't touch him, wanting him to recharge and get what he needed. I wanted him so badly. But I waited.
Finally, he put his book down. He smiled at me and said, "I love you, baby girl. Put the kids to bed, then I want you back here with me."
So I did. But I was exhausted. So I took my blanket and sat next to him on the couch, and napped while he worked. When he was done, he wanted to watch a tv show, so I followed him to the family room, put my head on his lap, and slept that way. It felt so nice. We didn't talk. I was so tired. But he would stroke my hair, and rub my back, and I just lay there, utterly content until he woke me and said quietly, "Time for bed, baby girl."
I followed him to bed, and tucked in by his side as I do every night...content to be at his side, where I belong.