When we stopped cuddling on the mattress on the floor in front of a Buffy Season 4-episode this evening, and Mistress was about to get up, she first gave me a set of hard slaps on my butt, that I had conveniently positioned beside her.
"Mmm..." I said, "that diminishes tomorrows insufferable-ness from my side with at least... oh, 0.6 percent.."
She briskly administered a few more, and I admitted that it summed up to at least a whole percent or something. Then she had to walk the dog, and left me to my own devices.
This whole topping from the bottom thing, manipulating the Owner in to punishment and sexy torture by being bratty and challenging? It really doesn't work here. Mistress is no good at bottoming from the top! She just wont play along... *pouts*
Ah well. I'm guessing I'm in for a real sever beating any day now, whether I want it or not and whether I'm insufferably bratty or not, anyway. Just as soon as Mistress has slept a few proper nights without being woken by the little one umptheenth times in a row. And since we're at Mistress' parents place over the weekend, that will most probably happen sooner rather than later.
I love that she can make me heel and behave. And I love that she doesn't have to prove to me that she can.
Jan 11, 2013
A tired little one
This week, Christmas break was over with a vengeance, and our ordinary lifes fell on top of us like a ton of bricks...
Mostly on top of the little one though. We started to suspect it the whole of December, but now it's painfully obvious - she's not coping well with the long days at the pre-school. She's stressed out and exhausted. Our guess is that she's doing fine when she's there, and only showing her fatigue at home, which isn't that unusual for kids.
She's not sleeping well, or enough. She's throwing tantrums every day, over the smallest things, and becomes inconsolable every now and then. She can't sit at her chair and eat with spoon and fork any more, she sits in a lap and we feed her - something she didn't even want us to when she was a baby. And she's three and a half now. She cries every morning, and sometimes when she's dropped off, over not wanting to go. She wants to stay at home. When we get home at dinner time, she's grey-faced and her eyes are almost dead, she's immobile (and this is a kid that's ordinarily never still) and all she wants to do is sit in a lap with her blanky and pacifier and watch the telly. This is not a healthy way of being for her.
We've been referred to a child psychologist and we're waiting to hear from them. And I've booked a conference with one of the staff at the pre-school this Tuesday, to start discussing what they see and inform them of the change we're seeing.
This week has been a somber one for us. It's no fun when one of our little family isn't feeling well. Especially not when it's our precious daughter. Of course, the obvious solution is to shorten her days, but we can't do that. She started to go full days (9-4.30) this fall, and we need to keep working full time both of us this spring too. We can't afford for Mistress to work less (not without selling the car and perhaps moving, at least) and we both want to prioritise me graduating this summer, so that I can get a job and earn money. When that's accomplished, we can probably both start working part-time, and the problem will go away (at least until she starts school...). But this spring, we need it to work out for her.
Parenting can really put a damper on anything kinky or sexy or even slightly romantic. When little S isn't okay, we have one problem, and one problem only. The rest of life mostly has to wait.
Mostly on top of the little one though. We started to suspect it the whole of December, but now it's painfully obvious - she's not coping well with the long days at the pre-school. She's stressed out and exhausted. Our guess is that she's doing fine when she's there, and only showing her fatigue at home, which isn't that unusual for kids.
She's not sleeping well, or enough. She's throwing tantrums every day, over the smallest things, and becomes inconsolable every now and then. She can't sit at her chair and eat with spoon and fork any more, she sits in a lap and we feed her - something she didn't even want us to when she was a baby. And she's three and a half now. She cries every morning, and sometimes when she's dropped off, over not wanting to go. She wants to stay at home. When we get home at dinner time, she's grey-faced and her eyes are almost dead, she's immobile (and this is a kid that's ordinarily never still) and all she wants to do is sit in a lap with her blanky and pacifier and watch the telly. This is not a healthy way of being for her.
We've been referred to a child psychologist and we're waiting to hear from them. And I've booked a conference with one of the staff at the pre-school this Tuesday, to start discussing what they see and inform them of the change we're seeing.
This week has been a somber one for us. It's no fun when one of our little family isn't feeling well. Especially not when it's our precious daughter. Of course, the obvious solution is to shorten her days, but we can't do that. She started to go full days (9-4.30) this fall, and we need to keep working full time both of us this spring too. We can't afford for Mistress to work less (not without selling the car and perhaps moving, at least) and we both want to prioritise me graduating this summer, so that I can get a job and earn money. When that's accomplished, we can probably both start working part-time, and the problem will go away (at least until she starts school...). But this spring, we need it to work out for her.
Parenting can really put a damper on anything kinky or sexy or even slightly romantic. When little S isn't okay, we have one problem, and one problem only. The rest of life mostly has to wait.
Jan 5, 2013
Fighting - not fighting
We had a fight, or almost a fight, this morning. A very typical situation, Mistress were going to take little S to the supermarket, little S refused to put any clothes on and ran around the living room naked, we aborted the mission and had some coffee and donuts instead, and afterwards we semi-tricked her into clothes by offering her the too big Pippi Longstrump-t-shirt we got her this summer.
I was deftly and sneakily pulling a pair of underwear on her legs while distracting her with small talk when Mistress interrupted me and wanted me to wait while she got the pair little S started the day wearing, instead of putting on a new pair.
And I flipped. Because... I was doing my best. Because I was almost succeeding. Because I was pretty sure that the delay would mean little S would go back to dancing naked around the living room, and I frankly didn't have the energy or focus to manage to lure her in once more. Because I had been so proud in knowing I was helping, that I was contributing, that I could feel like a competent mom and an asset to the family, and because it hurt me that 1) it wasn't good enough and 2) I wouldn't be allowed to succeed.
Mistress was forcing me to failure, and then, in my minds eye, I was sure she would be angry and irritated with both me and little S, and I would feel guilty for not being able to fix it. And also, the pressure of the thought of having to once again run around chasing a little naked someone and trying to dress her (like putting a hysterical octopus down a net with big holes in it without any arms sticking out...) felt like it was crushing me. In an instant I was convinced that it would end with Mistress angry and me crushed, broken down, laying on the living room floor crying, a failure both as a mother, a wife and her property.
So I snarked at her that couldn't she pleeease not bother just this once and let me do my thing? Or something to that effect. And Mistress got angry and pointed out "all the things I haven't said anything about!" which made me feel like a complete failure at everything, and sent me spiralling down an emotional chasm of raging fury and despair. Mistress jumped down her own dark well in the same instant, and well... here we go again.
Only, we didn't. We didn't yell or accuse or acted out. We tried talking, in intervals between getting little S ready and prepared to go out the door, and in the end I stalked off to go sulk on the bed. Before she left, Mistress came in and looked at me and said: "I know your feelings are hurt and that you're angry. But I'm going to give you an order now. I want you to get dressed and put your running shoes on and go out for a jog, and when you get inside again I want you to take a shower. And I want you to start now."
And I did. It was possible, even if my hurt feelings felt like a lead weight in my chest. And after running a while I sent Mistress a text, and she texted me back. And all is right in the world again. And soon they'll be coming home, so I'll go make pancakes now. And we're so frikkin awesome to save this, to not destroy the whole day, to actually keep our heads even when the hearts are screaming in terror.
She's my Mistress. And I'm so incredibly proud of her, and of being allowed to be hers.
I was deftly and sneakily pulling a pair of underwear on her legs while distracting her with small talk when Mistress interrupted me and wanted me to wait while she got the pair little S started the day wearing, instead of putting on a new pair.
And I flipped. Because... I was doing my best. Because I was almost succeeding. Because I was pretty sure that the delay would mean little S would go back to dancing naked around the living room, and I frankly didn't have the energy or focus to manage to lure her in once more. Because I had been so proud in knowing I was helping, that I was contributing, that I could feel like a competent mom and an asset to the family, and because it hurt me that 1) it wasn't good enough and 2) I wouldn't be allowed to succeed.
Mistress was forcing me to failure, and then, in my minds eye, I was sure she would be angry and irritated with both me and little S, and I would feel guilty for not being able to fix it. And also, the pressure of the thought of having to once again run around chasing a little naked someone and trying to dress her (like putting a hysterical octopus down a net with big holes in it without any arms sticking out...) felt like it was crushing me. In an instant I was convinced that it would end with Mistress angry and me crushed, broken down, laying on the living room floor crying, a failure both as a mother, a wife and her property.
So I snarked at her that couldn't she pleeease not bother just this once and let me do my thing? Or something to that effect. And Mistress got angry and pointed out "all the things I haven't said anything about!" which made me feel like a complete failure at everything, and sent me spiralling down an emotional chasm of raging fury and despair. Mistress jumped down her own dark well in the same instant, and well... here we go again.
Only, we didn't. We didn't yell or accuse or acted out. We tried talking, in intervals between getting little S ready and prepared to go out the door, and in the end I stalked off to go sulk on the bed. Before she left, Mistress came in and looked at me and said: "I know your feelings are hurt and that you're angry. But I'm going to give you an order now. I want you to get dressed and put your running shoes on and go out for a jog, and when you get inside again I want you to take a shower. And I want you to start now."
And I did. It was possible, even if my hurt feelings felt like a lead weight in my chest. And after running a while I sent Mistress a text, and she texted me back. And all is right in the world again. And soon they'll be coming home, so I'll go make pancakes now. And we're so frikkin awesome to save this, to not destroy the whole day, to actually keep our heads even when the hearts are screaming in terror.
She's my Mistress. And I'm so incredibly proud of her, and of being allowed to be hers.
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