Some Interesting Thoughts to Ponder....

I have one thought that keeps permeating my mind lately.  I wonder, often, as this lifestyle is hidden from family and friends, or at least the nitty gritty details of it are, about a few things.

First and foremost on my mind is would I want this lifestyle for any of our children?  You know those little rugrats that are always looking up to us, trying to figure us out, and drive us crazy all at the same time?

Our children do not know that Hoss spanks me, but they do know that Hoss is in charge and he has the final say.  Over the past year I have deferred to him for more things than ever before. Do they see a difference?  Aside from less arguing and more joy between their parents, do they see the changes going on?  I do not know the answer to this question exactly, but I do think they notice their parents are more loving and kind to one another, less strife, more patience.   Would I want for them to experience this lifestyle for their own when they become adults?  I'm not sure if I know how to answer that one just yet. Very curious what others think.....

Secondly, who, if anyone do you share this lifestyle with?
We do not openly share this lifestyle with others in our family, but do they notice a change?  

My mother has noticed a difference.  Mom has remarked that I'm happier, but also is frustrated when I defer to Hoss.  She has said often that she understands me wanting to be submissive (Biblical submission is what we discuss), but not why I have to ask him about plans and things that I used to just make on my own.  Mom knows I've always been so independent, so I know she's a bit confused at the change, not telling her though.  Good grief, can you imagine how that conversation would go down?  Yeah, not going there, folks.

My best friend has questioned me at times about how I'm always listening to my husband.  I have desired to share with her probably the most, but cannot.  That would just be so awkward.  Would she understand?  She's not particularly submissive, so I'm not sure she would.  

I'm thankful I can blog and get things out and off my chest.  I'm thankful for the other bloggers who have answered my bazillion of questions and listened to my endless thoughts.  For that I am extremely appreciative. 

I also wonder, if there were no adverse repercussions, who would I tell first?

So, what about the rest of you.  Do you share with loved ones?  Would you want this for your children? Would you even feel comfortable sharing this lifestyle or suggesting it to a friend?  I'm full of questions and ponderings this morning. 

Let me know what you think, I'm all ears!

--Baker

I Have A Problem...

It's actually a bunch of little problems.  

Okay, that's not quite right.  

I actually think it's a lot of little people causing me a lot of little problems.  

Now, a few bloggers out there have reminded me throughout the past seven months that this blog is mine and I can post about any issue as I see fit.  Well, today the issue is socks.  

Wait, that's not quite what I mean.  Socks are just a part of my issue.  Socks are good things. They keep your feet warm or absorb your sweaty feet odors (come on we all know we have them) or maybe are just cute and comfy and make you giggle with cute little sayings on them.  I mean they can be such a fun part of your wardrobe!  Well, these cute, comfy little critters are causing me a whole lot of issues.  

They are unmanageable.  I wash them and they either multiply or divide themselves in the washer or dryer or both.  I really do not know.  There are either not enough of them to match or too many or the wrong size or the wrong color or something.  I really do NOT know.  

What I do know is my husband has a sock fetish.  I mean he really likes to wear them.  Like to work.  Apparently, they have this weird dress code where he works that requires him to always have socks on his feet.  I know, they are a bunch of crazy nutty people out there expecting a grown man to show up with socks EVERY DAY! 

In my little world of children socks should only be necessary if one is going outside, in public, with shoes on.  In my children's world, that is not necessarily true.  As in children in my little piece of America, think socks alone are okay to wear outside.  Like they cannot wear them in the house, no they must be worn outside without shoes and they must be returned covered in dirt or mud or grass or squished bugs or wet or ????  So in my opinion, no reason for said children to have socks unless we are leaving the house to be in a public setting that requires shoes.

In my world I wear socks every day, all day and also to bed because my feet are always cold.  I put them in the laundry basket.  I wash them and mate them and put them in my drawer.  I am pretty much the only one in my family that understands the real system here.

Well, back to my man.  You know, Hoss.  It would not be so inconvenient if said Hoss used his wonderfully intelligent and smart brain to utilize the system that he came up with to help his absolutely equally wonderful, sweet wife manage the socks of several children.  

Just a side note here:  The children and wife do not like the system and have a very difficult time following said system, but it's his system and he is HOH and well, if he wants said system in place it is in place (in theory) and said wife and children should just have to comply, except when they do not.  

Okay, is everyone thoroughly confused yet?  

Okay, okay, I'll slow down a bit.  Hoss needs socks for work.  Every day.  I must provide said socks as I am in charge of laundry.  Hoss has a system to help me not lose said socks and help to keep them matched.  I am to keep each individual person in our house's socks in individual lingerie bags.  They put clean matched socks from the dryer into their drawers and put dirty socks into the bags to be washed.  The children do NOT comply with said system very well and neither do I.  I find it tedious.  Especially, when the one who created said system does not follow it.

There, I think that's clearer.  This pet peeve that Hoss has, has in turn caused me a great amount of trouble.  Like when he reaches in his drawer for a clean pair and there are NONE.  I know you all did a gasp.  The same gasp as I do when I frantically leap out of bed to hunt down a clean, matching pair of socks for my man to wear.  Yes, this happens more often than I care to admit in my blog, but it happens frequently enough that yours truly has had swats applied to her backside on at least one occasion when said socks did not appear quickly enough.  You knew there had to be a spanking in here somewhere, right?  Stupid sock fetish!

This little issue has been an issue for 15 years.  Hoss has never taken care of his socks, but that was manageable until, well, maybe like 10 or 11 when little people learned to put their own shoes and socks on and I became less concerned about where they put the leftover or used ones.  Hoss likes to make them into little balls and let them fall off the bed onto the floor because apparently it is too difficult to take them off before getting into bed.  Or he will shed them under the computer desk because his feet became randomly too hot.  The children.  I have no idea where they put their socks.  To be honest I do not want to know.

I truly am the only one in the house that typically know where my socks are.  That and one sweet child who thinks the world of his momma and actually understands that socks do not miraculously appear like a dollar from the tooth fairy on their bed in the morning.  He will make some woman happy one day if I can keep everyone else from their negative sock influence.  To the other future spouses of my children.  I apologize ahead of time.  I have tried!

Hoss, does not understand my dilemma and it is my dilemma.   I figure if no one else cares to manage their socks then, why should I?

I just want people to not wear socks.  Or if they do wear them to take care of the ones they have, so I can find them when it is time to wash them.  And I do not believe anyone should have the right to complain if they do not understand the concept that dirty clothes should go into a laundry basket, gasp, and not beside it, and not under the bed or computer desk or stuffed in the couch.  

Ahhh, I feel so much better just sharing this quandary with you all.  Even if you all think me a bit odd for sharing it.

Have a great, sock free day!

--Baker

When My Submission Went MIA

There are days that we are humming along doing very well.  It feels as if there is almost a magic in our home that abounds peace and happiness like nothing we have ever experiences before.  Then there are days such as yesterday where it does not matter how hard we try things fall apart and there seems that there is little to no ability to recover.  

The day started like a typical Saturday, quiet, everyone sleeping in..  I was up early, but feeling a bit off. Not a huge concern.  We had a busy day ahead of us, so I was preparing breakfast and losing patience rapidly with a little one who was particularly whiny.  By the time I made it downstairs to Hoss I was feeling way off, but trying very hard to keep my cool.  We had an errand to run that required us to be out the door shortly after 9.  We were back home by ten and things took a dreadful turn.  

I blew up over a few things he was trying to explain to me that needed to be done.  I may have rolled my eyes a bit.  He reacted as any HOH would and retrieved Bertha from her secret lair.  Things went downhill quickly from there.  I did not submit readily.  I argued about not needing a spanking.  I wanted to talk things out. There was a lot of "I this", and "I that," going on.   It was one of those spankings that came rapidly and in my mind out of nowhere.  I was unprepared mentally for the assault on my backside and was pleading and negotiating for a break from the first swat.  While I was trying to do a very ungraceful swim on the bed to get away from the brush he was demanding for me to stay in position and well, neither of us were very successful in our pursuits.  Then it happened.  A huge, huge no no here.  I flung my hand back and he accidentally caught my fingertips with the swat he was delivering.  He dropped the brush and walked away.  Guilt ridden for almost injuring my hand, he left the room.  I was thanking the good Lord the kids were occupied outside and they did not hear the craziness going on in our room.  I lay on the bed, butt hurting, fingers smarting, and trying to figure out what had just transpired.  It was a hard spanking, but it was more the fact that I was not submitting.  I was fighting the spanking.  What was going on with me?  

He returned a few minutes later, apologized to me for striking my fingers and reiterated why I am not allowed to fling my hands about or try in a vain attempt to cover my backside.  He then finished up the spanking.  We hugged for a moment.  I would like to say that was the end of things. It should have been over. Wrongs were righted by the spanking, yes?  Nope, not this time.  Typically when I’m in the wrong I admit it and we move on.  All is forgiven.  

Not so this time.  This time I was left feeling angry and frustrated with myself.  Yes, we had both apologized for mistakes made, but I had failed to submit.  I was for all intensive purposes acting as if I had never heard of ttwd/dd and what it means to our marriage.  I had failed to submit to one of the simplest of his commands and I had in fact put myself in more danger by acting like a fish out of water, flipping and flopping around.  What was going on with me?  I thought I had moved past this kind of reaction. Where had my submission gone?

Hoss had left for work, so I spent some time reflecting.  Then napping.  Sometimes a nap helps to improve my outlook.  It did not.  Typically processing things out in my head helps.  It did not.  I basically walked away from things just as confused and upset as when it started. My attitude towards my husband deteriorated as the day went on, even though it was not his fault, I was still blaming him.  My mind would not let it go that he did not listen to me.   Yes, I know, it was his right to decide how to handle the situation, but for some reason I just could not let things go.

Finally, later in the evening, my sweet friend, Bea, messaged me.  We hashed things out.  Me, explaining my thoughts and feelings.  Bea, reminding and questioning, trying to understand where I was at emotionally.  I call her, “my voice of reason.”  It was through this process that I think the answer finally came.  I had felt unheard.  I had felt out of control.  I had tried to be in charge.  Not my job, not my role,  a lot of “not mys” going around.

When Hoss went to spank I had not thought we were headed into a spanking.  I was still very much into the moment of trying to explain my position.  I had not had time to process that we had moved from talking to a spanking.  I am typically given a minute to grab a pillow, undress, and get into position.  I was not given those luxuries.  I was told to lay down and he started.  No rituals.  No “stalling” as Hoss calls it.  No time to mentally prepared.  I was being roasted and toasted before I mentally had moved past the words and talking part to the action part.  I was trying to be in control of the spanking because I was not ready.  I am a control freak most of the time anyway, so when I felt out of control I acted out of control.  Flipping and flopping is not the norm.  I was out of control mentally and physically.  

Once I was able to identify what was going on in my head, I was better able to have a heart to heart with my man.  It was then the guilt set in and we were able to deal with the issues that had transpired.  I went to sleep cuddled up next to my man, with my head on his chest and felt heard, validated and cherished.  I realized by giving up the control I was actually finding my submission was not lost, just a bit misplaced.  That even on days when submission alludes me he is still there, my sweet loving man, gently helping me and not so gently helping me to get where I truly wish to be.  

Have a blessed Sunday everyone!

--Baker

I Will Try....Again

It’s the wee hours of the morning here.  I am awake, which for me is odd.  I am usually up at the crack of dawn, but seriously there’s no inkling of any dawn cracking here.  Nope.  Not even close.  What there is a wife, riddled with guilt, over a poor choice that she knows she has an early morning reckoning coming.  

Last night before bed my husband had some words for me.  Was I listening?  Did I hear him?  Yes, actually I did.  So much so that when I woke up in the middle of the night his words were still right there echoing quietly in my ears.  Did I understand?  Yes, I do now, but at the time of the incident in question I did not see the significance of his request.

A week ago, this past Monday, I had seen the doctor regarding an ear infection.  Instead of an antibiotic I was given a good dose of steroids to “calm the swelling down.”  I went to fill the prescription and called my husband to tell him what the doctor said.  He had asked me to call my endocrinologist and make sure there would be no adverse side effects.  I verbally agreed, but in my mind I knew I probably would not be following through. I knew more about my body and I had been on steroids for my asthma oodles of times before.  I did not need to waste the nurse’s time with endless questions about medications.  By the time sweet Hoss had followed up I was in full blown crazy mode (due to the steroids), miserable and in worse pain from the ear infection.  His instinct to care for me and cut me plenty of slack had kicked in.  He mentioned a few times about calling the doctor, but I still did not.  Yes, I know, but crazy lady had shown up and reasoning is not her forte.

Fast forward to last night.  I had been Tuesday to see the doctor again as my ear was no better.  After my appointment I had filled the prescription for an antibiotic and Hoss informed me I would be calling the endocrinologist and reporting these new medications.  There would be no questioning this time.  I was back in my right frame of mind and I was to obey.  I did call and leave a message on Tuesday afternoon and heard back early yesterday morning.  Hoss had been busy at work and had not received my text until late that afternoon, so it was not until last night when we were discussing our day was he reminded of the med issue.  I reported to him what the nurse had said and that is when the lecture of disobedience had surfaced from the week prior.  He must have been stewing over this for the entire ten days, unbeknownst to me.  See, I was under the impression we had moved on.  Let’s just say, in his mind we had not.  

He laid out his point of view regarding his position and I was not to talk, but simply listen.  

That is so incredibly, astronomically hard for me.  This is where I can easily get into so much trouble with interrupting!

This time I knew I had not a leg to stand on.   I did listen fully as I knew he was absolutely right.  I needed to hear his words.  He was pouring out his love and concern for me and my well being.  I literally felt like a complete moron for not listening the first time.  We went on to other activities after his lecture.  A while later he called me to cuddle with him and he reminded me again how precious I was to him, how much he loved me, how he truly only had my best interest at heart.

So now the guilt has set in.  I know that there’s little chance to get out of a spanking.  I do not even wish to, as I know the guilt will vanish and we can move on.  I’m not relishing or eager to be at the spanking part of this discussion, but I do know the benefits will definitely outweigh these feelings of hurt and discord.  I know there will be forgiveness, I know he has already forgiven me, but it will take the spanking to allow me to forgive myself. 

See, not so long ago, prior to dd, I would have totally and utterly gaffed my husband off.  Now, I just do not do that.  I try to listen and do as he requests.  I try to respect his opinion and not take it with a grain of salt.  I do try very hard in this area to submit willingly to his authority.  So when I mess up like this it really, really bothers me.  It makes me feel as if I have made no progress in this area at all.  Yes, yes, I know there has been a good amount of forward momentum, but it is times like this where I question have I really changed much at all?  I want to please him and show him with my actions the respect he deserves. I do not want this kind of backsliding, and yet I know there’s a process to be learned here.

 

So in the morning, I will.  I will listen to his words and take them to heart.  I will submit and learn from this incident and make progress again.  I will move past these negative feelings and do my best to submit again.  I will simply….try again.

Happy Thursday!

--Baker