Good morning, readers. I said last week that Jason is holding me accountable to weekly blogging, and he is. He just gave me permission to blog this morning instead of yesterday, when a few things came up that I hadn’t planned on.
So…here I am! 😊
Lately, things have been in a bit of a state of upheaval here, and Jason and I are weathering through. Parenting teens is a tricky thing and although I really love it, it’s stretching us in many ways. Our teens are up later than they were when they were little. They need loads of attention, they need to talk and process things. They need rides hither and yon, and things like new sneakers and backpacks. Then our other non-teens have their own needs as well. Jason has his job and I have mine, we’re preparing for major renovation in our home, and travel and extended family visiting add more complications to the mix.
Things are fantastic, though. Really. It’s just a busy, busy time, and for someone who thrives with consistency and structure, there have been times lately that I’ve been scrambling for purchase.
This fall marks our sixth year living a full-time Dom/sub lifestyle. My, how things have changed. I always get a bit reflective this time of year. I love being Jason’s submissive and he says he loves being my dominant. We never really anticipated how things would change as the years passed. It’s become who we are. We’re most fulfilled in our roles, so we’ve learned to make this work despite the urgency of the moment with so many other things.
And that’s it, isn’t it? When our time and energy and focus are called in so many directions, it becomes harder and harder to find time for each other. But anything that is worth doing is worth doing well, and anything that is worth doing well must be prioritized.
I think what is most telling over the years is the fruit we bear when we live this lifestyle. We’re happier. There’s less conflict. The erotic vibe in our marriage keeps the romance alive, and despite our aging bodies and the way we’ve changed, we’re as into each other now as we’ve ever been. More so, even. There’s something about growing together that pulls us closer. He still makes my heart go a-flutter with a mere look, and he still curls an arm around my shoulders when we go out together and calls me baby.
So how do we make it work? We keep pulling ourselves back to center.
Saturday we didn’t check in. I was busy, he was busy, and mid-morning I started getting grumpy that our routine was off. I said something off-hand and he snapped back at me, and we started snipping at each other. My heart was uneasy, and I was saddened. He was sitting at his desk at his computer. He wasn’t fuming—it wasn’t a big fight, but just a little spat—and I sat down beside him. I didn’t say anything, or even pout. I just quietly looked at him like, “I don’t want to fight with you.”
And before I knew what was happening, he pushed away from the computer, pinned me to the bed, and kissed me. “I’m not going to fight with you,” he said.
“Well then don’t,” I said back. “You’re taking what I said way too seriously.”
He tipped me over and smacked my ass. “And you’re pouting.”
I giggled, and he smiled, and then he tickled me. “We’re not going to make this a fight,” he said.
I agreed. “That would be stupid and silly. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“Good,” he said, pinning my wrists above my head. “Then behave yourself, and remember your rules. And don’t you dare come back here later and say this wasn’t a check-in.”
He smacked my ass again, and let me go.
Did we go over all my rules? No. Did he put me in my place with a good spanking over his lap? Well, no. But we stopped the silliness before it got out of control. We recognized that we didn’t want to fight, and that we had the control to stop this. So we did. He reminded me who he is, and I submitted to that. And he made me feel special.
Sometimes that’s all it takes. A humble apology. Dropping what we’re doing and reminding each other who we are and why we do this.
Sometimes it means we get a babysitter so we can go to dinner and talk alone, just the two of us.
Sometimes it means shutting off Youtube and Netflix and locking the door and making love.
Sometimes he sets his alarm early (I get up before him, so I don’t usually need to set one), because we have early morning plans that might threaten our check-in, and we want to make that happen.
And sometimes our check-in ends up modified, and we have to settle for the drive-thru version and say, “Good enough.”
Sometimes--and for me, I have to admit that's with regularity, at the very least every Monday morning--it means a good, hard spanking is needed to remind me who I belong to.
Making this works means recognizing that our lives aren’t static. Children grow. Older parents grow ill and demand our time and attention. Our jobs change. We get pregnant and have babies, or sometimes we are the ones ill. Sometimes it means finding what isn’t working and fixing it. And when things are working well, we need to not take the good for granted, but find out why and continue to make things work.
Sometimes It means finding the balance between prioritizing what we need, and not putting ourselves above all others. It means giving thanks for the beauty we already have and finding contentment with what we already have.