Tomorrow morning Mistress leaves for Spain. She'll be back Friday, and even though I really don't like her going away from me, it feels a lot better than the last time she travelled. One of the main reason is probably that this time neither I nor anyone else thinks I'm okay with it, and expects me to be perfectly all right when she gets back.
We have all kinds of support in place, the biggest one being my in-laws coming and living with me and little S from Tuesday to Thursday. And we're going to talk every day, and I'll have a schedule, and there's food in the fridge, and everything is going to be okay. Except that I'll miss her like crazy.
Yesterday she whipped me, hard and deliciously cruel. Today we made our version of sweet love, including a whole lot of nipple pinching and strangling. I feel safe and loved and treasured. It's going to be okay. And at least she'll be home soon.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 10, 2013
Broken down
I took the car today, to have lunch with a friend. I really didn't need to, I could have taken my bike, but it was raining and I was feeling tired and grumpy. Or the bus, but truth be told, I fell asleep and when I woke up I would just make it in time with the car.
I had a lovely lunch with an old friend I haven't seen in ages, and when it was time for her to return to work I offered to drive her. When we got there, I turned the engine off while we finished our conversation, we hugged and said good bye and I turned the ignition key, and got nothing.
The car wouldn't start. And that turned a so far good but a little low day in to a rather horrid one.
In the end, I got home again around six-thirty, and the worst part of the whole day was the look in Mistress' eyes. She looked so sad, and defeated, and tired and angry and well, just generally frazzled. Most of it has nothing to do with me, or with the car, but knowing that decisions I've made today, like taking the car at all for instance, made her day worse makes me hate myself a little.
I don't know if she's angry with me for any of it. I texted her as soon as it happened, and she was informed of every decision I made and I did as she told me to when she had any input, but in the end I still feel guilty. Like I should have done better. I know she hates it when unexpected things happen, and especially when she's not in control of them. I think she would much have preferred being the one waiting by the broken down car over having to leave work early and pick up the kid and fix dinner and play nice and be in a good mood with a cranky four-year-old.
And now her mother called. Today we know whether her dad has skeletal cancer or not. Today is not an easy day.
---------
Mistress is still on the phone with her mom, but she just gave me a thumbs up. The relief is immense.
I had a lovely lunch with an old friend I haven't seen in ages, and when it was time for her to return to work I offered to drive her. When we got there, I turned the engine off while we finished our conversation, we hugged and said good bye and I turned the ignition key, and got nothing.
The car wouldn't start. And that turned a so far good but a little low day in to a rather horrid one.
In the end, I got home again around six-thirty, and the worst part of the whole day was the look in Mistress' eyes. She looked so sad, and defeated, and tired and angry and well, just generally frazzled. Most of it has nothing to do with me, or with the car, but knowing that decisions I've made today, like taking the car at all for instance, made her day worse makes me hate myself a little.
I don't know if she's angry with me for any of it. I texted her as soon as it happened, and she was informed of every decision I made and I did as she told me to when she had any input, but in the end I still feel guilty. Like I should have done better. I know she hates it when unexpected things happen, and especially when she's not in control of them. I think she would much have preferred being the one waiting by the broken down car over having to leave work early and pick up the kid and fix dinner and play nice and be in a good mood with a cranky four-year-old.
And now her mother called. Today we know whether her dad has skeletal cancer or not. Today is not an easy day.
---------
Mistress is still on the phone with her mom, but she just gave me a thumbs up. The relief is immense.
Oct 5, 2013
A day in the life of a stay-at-home slave
I'm having trouble accepting just how good things are right now. That's a first world problem if I ever heard of one... But really, it scares me a bit, because how it is right now is something I could live with forever. And that's a bit troublesome, because right now I don't do much.
I'm a stay-at-home slave for the moment. I mean, I'm not even a stay-at-home mom, because that would require my kid to be, you know, at home. But she's not, she's almost full time at pre-school. I usually get home around nine thirty after dropping her off in the morning, and then I go pick her up after four in the afternoon. And really I'm not a housewife either, because doesn't a housewife do like all the housework?
I once read a study where a lot of couples in Sweden had filled in surveys about the amount of housework they did, each person in the household answering separately. And of course, in heterosexual relationships with kids the woman did an insane amount more of the housework, many more hours per week more than the man, unrelated to their professional workload. Except for if the woman worked full time and the man was unemployed, those couples were statistically most equal, since then the men did roughly half...
So yeah. In that scenario, I'm the guy. Mistress works full time, and she still does all the laundry, most of the grocery shopping, all the planning, always cleans up after dinner and do most of the vacuuming. I vacuum occasionally, clean the bathroom, cook dinner, sometimes empty the dishwasher, shop some groceries and do strange errands like picking up parcels at the post office or getting shoes mended and other odd things, and usually leaves off and picks up the kid, but at best one can say I do half. Which is an enormous improvement compared to last year, when I did literary nothing, since I devoted all my energy to getting through school.
But the thing is, I love this. Finally, for the fist time in my life or at least since I was five, the demands placed on me are equal to or lower than my resources. I'm not exhausted. I'm enough. What I'm capable of doing without getting sick is for the first time enough for the tasks that I need to fulfil. I've always felt like Bilbo in the Lord of the Rings when he explains the effect the Ring has on him as thinning him out, like to little butter on a to big piece of toast. I've always felt stretched, always felt that what I am and what I do and what I manage isn't enough. Naturally, since it hasn't been enough, since I have lived my whole life with an undiagnosed neurological handicap.
I love being Mistress' stay-at-home slave. I love it so much. For the first time, we have a routine that actually works. And it shows on Mistress too. She's been able to go to the gym. She had lunch with a friend the other day (they realised that they hadn't seen each other alone for two years, and they live 20 minutes apart...). Even though I regularly have depressive thoughts about not doing enough for us as a family, Mistress seems to appreciate the things I actually manage to do a lot. And that means the world to me.
I like my days. I get home in the morning, I drink coffee and rest for a while, and then I usually do something - go to the gym, or to a pony I've started to take for walks in the woods. She's young and she's much to small for me to ride, but the owner appreciates that she gets attention and exercise, and I appreciate the equestrian company. Then I have lunch, either at home or a lunch date with one of my friends, and around two I go rest. I always rest in the afternoon, and it's a really good thing for me. I usually start with a mindfulness-exercise laying on the bed, and after that I just roll over and sleep for an hour.
And then it's time to get myself ready, take a shower if I haven't done that, prepare dinner and straighten things up a little bit, and then go get little S. Mistress comes home around five, she plays with the kid and I finish dinner or the other way around, we eat at five-thirty, Mistress cleans the kitchen while little S and I watch telly and then usually they play until bedtime and I go rest again (I rest a lot). But the other day I actually went to the store and got milk and bread and stuff, that was a bit of a milestone too.
And then we have our going-to-bed routine that takes from six-thirty to seven-thirty, and after that it's time for me and Mistress to hang out, talk about our day and cuddle on the sofa.
I love this routine. I have no idea how I'm ever going to be able to stuff another full time job in to this family again. Last year we both worked more than full time. No wonder we're exhausted. That was crazy. Now, when I'm left to my own devices most of the day, I can rest, exercise and meet friends as much as I need to during the day, and have just enough energy over for my family the rest of the time. I get why I got sick, and I definitely get why I haven't been to the gym, eaten healthy or had much of a social life the last couple of year. I had, obviously, school instead.
I like this. I'm going to take a nap now.
Oh, and this was my 200th post. Yey!
I'm a stay-at-home slave for the moment. I mean, I'm not even a stay-at-home mom, because that would require my kid to be, you know, at home. But she's not, she's almost full time at pre-school. I usually get home around nine thirty after dropping her off in the morning, and then I go pick her up after four in the afternoon. And really I'm not a housewife either, because doesn't a housewife do like all the housework?
I once read a study where a lot of couples in Sweden had filled in surveys about the amount of housework they did, each person in the household answering separately. And of course, in heterosexual relationships with kids the woman did an insane amount more of the housework, many more hours per week more than the man, unrelated to their professional workload. Except for if the woman worked full time and the man was unemployed, those couples were statistically most equal, since then the men did roughly half...
So yeah. In that scenario, I'm the guy. Mistress works full time, and she still does all the laundry, most of the grocery shopping, all the planning, always cleans up after dinner and do most of the vacuuming. I vacuum occasionally, clean the bathroom, cook dinner, sometimes empty the dishwasher, shop some groceries and do strange errands like picking up parcels at the post office or getting shoes mended and other odd things, and usually leaves off and picks up the kid, but at best one can say I do half. Which is an enormous improvement compared to last year, when I did literary nothing, since I devoted all my energy to getting through school.
But the thing is, I love this. Finally, for the fist time in my life or at least since I was five, the demands placed on me are equal to or lower than my resources. I'm not exhausted. I'm enough. What I'm capable of doing without getting sick is for the first time enough for the tasks that I need to fulfil. I've always felt like Bilbo in the Lord of the Rings when he explains the effect the Ring has on him as thinning him out, like to little butter on a to big piece of toast. I've always felt stretched, always felt that what I am and what I do and what I manage isn't enough. Naturally, since it hasn't been enough, since I have lived my whole life with an undiagnosed neurological handicap.
I love being Mistress' stay-at-home slave. I love it so much. For the first time, we have a routine that actually works. And it shows on Mistress too. She's been able to go to the gym. She had lunch with a friend the other day (they realised that they hadn't seen each other alone for two years, and they live 20 minutes apart...). Even though I regularly have depressive thoughts about not doing enough for us as a family, Mistress seems to appreciate the things I actually manage to do a lot. And that means the world to me.
I like my days. I get home in the morning, I drink coffee and rest for a while, and then I usually do something - go to the gym, or to a pony I've started to take for walks in the woods. She's young and she's much to small for me to ride, but the owner appreciates that she gets attention and exercise, and I appreciate the equestrian company. Then I have lunch, either at home or a lunch date with one of my friends, and around two I go rest. I always rest in the afternoon, and it's a really good thing for me. I usually start with a mindfulness-exercise laying on the bed, and after that I just roll over and sleep for an hour.
And then it's time to get myself ready, take a shower if I haven't done that, prepare dinner and straighten things up a little bit, and then go get little S. Mistress comes home around five, she plays with the kid and I finish dinner or the other way around, we eat at five-thirty, Mistress cleans the kitchen while little S and I watch telly and then usually they play until bedtime and I go rest again (I rest a lot). But the other day I actually went to the store and got milk and bread and stuff, that was a bit of a milestone too.
And then we have our going-to-bed routine that takes from six-thirty to seven-thirty, and after that it's time for me and Mistress to hang out, talk about our day and cuddle on the sofa.
I love this routine. I have no idea how I'm ever going to be able to stuff another full time job in to this family again. Last year we both worked more than full time. No wonder we're exhausted. That was crazy. Now, when I'm left to my own devices most of the day, I can rest, exercise and meet friends as much as I need to during the day, and have just enough energy over for my family the rest of the time. I get why I got sick, and I definitely get why I haven't been to the gym, eaten healthy or had much of a social life the last couple of year. I had, obviously, school instead.
I like this. I'm going to take a nap now.
Oh, and this was my 200th post. Yey!
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