Reassurance

I had a little episode a couple of weeks ago that sent me to the doctor, who in turn sent me to a cardiologist, who appeared quite bored as he read my charts and ordered thousands of dollars of tests. In a couple of weeks, they want to hook me up to a bunch of wires and put me on a treadmill after they inject NUCLEAR material into my veins.  And oh, how proud they are of their services judging by the price tag.

Yesterday, they did a sonogram of my heart. The technician had me take off my shirt and lie on my side while she sat behind me and reached around to the front of my chest to probe my ribs with her little wand. It was up close and personal—only my wife puts her arms around me like that, usually in bed, and that’s the way I like it. The technician was nice but I didn’t like having her that close to me, and sometimes it smarted when she jammed that thing in between my ribs. 

Then they hooked me up to a monitor which I’ll be wearing for a month. Here I am sitting with my shirt off (I’m painfully aware that I don’t look like Adonis) while three women about half my age chat about how best to hook this gizmo to my body. It takes several tries and lots of conversation before they get it up and running.

It’s not reassuring to hear them speculate: “Let’s see, where does the white electrode go and where does the black one go?”  

They told me (while my shirt was still off) that I could do anything I wanted with this monitor on. 

“Can I leave?” I wanted to say.

I understand that trips to the doctor require some invasion of personal space. And I don’t usually mind being treated by a woman. Frankly, I prefer them because, they’re smarter and probably had to work harder than men to get through medical school.  And the women who have given me physicals are more respectful and considerate than the male doctors I’ve had. 

But this visit, though not so invasive as some physicals I’ve had, was different.

Mostly, I think it was because I’m scared. I’m probably going to be fine, but I really am a bit scared. 

Which brings me to the subject of being head of the house. When I’m scared, Lynda is afraid, too. It hasn’t helped that in addition to doctor visits, work kept me away from home, requiring me to go to the office early and stay out until nine or ten most evenings.

When Lynda is scared, she won’t admit it, even to herself. But she’ll talk about how tired she is and she’ll be even more absentminded and flustered than she usually is.  

Last night I was able to be home at a reasonable time. We had dinner together, watched a show (yes, it was a Star Trek episode) and then I told Lynda she was off for the rest of the evening. While the boys cleaned the dishes, I took her to the bedroom and showed her my electrodes (that’s not a cute word for something sexy). I showed her how it worked and put on an amusing show about how I was wired for high voltage action.  

Then I gave her a package from Victoria’s Secret that I had been saving, and had her do a modeling session for me.  

At some point I said, “You know with all this medical stuff going on, my male ego needs some reassurance.”

“Oh, you do, huh?” she said. 

And then I had occasion to demonstrate that my vigor has not left me.

It made us both feel better. 

Today, I have the morning off. I’m sure I’ll find a reason to give her at least a play spanking. And then repeat last night’s performance.

It’s all for her benefit, of course.  She’s really the one who needs reassurance. I’m doing it for her. 

Really.

No kidding.

I wouldn’t lie. 

Oh, alright. You people think you're so smart.    

Re-setting Herself

I’d like to thank Sara for the suggestion on novelty underwear from Café Press. I gave Lynda this pair of panties for her birthday:

I never know how Lynda will react but for this she burst out laughing.  And then of course she had to try them on and I wanted to test them out. They work great.

At one point during her birthday, Lynda told me, “I’m fifty-one and I feel great!” 

You know, when she was twenty-one, and many times since then, that she didn’t feel so great. While I generally have functioned better over the years, I can’t say I felt great either. And we weren’t happy with each other. 

But we decided to get hold of our lives a few years ago.  Simply put, I took control, and she agreed to give it to me. 

When I first started writing this blog, I described how I micromanaged her day, scheduling every minute and spanking her when she didn’t adhere to it.  And while I tried to be fair, I was pretty strict (I call it consistent).

It’s three years later. I don’t make detailed schedule like that anymore, although we still talk about what needs to be done during the day. I tell her the one or two things I expect her to do, and then there are the usual chores that must be done every day.  She manages her own life much more, now. 

These days our house is nice. The clutter is gone. We can walk and sit down. There are always clean dishes and clean clothes. Our finances are in order and the bills get paid on time.  We’re not late anymore to our appointments. And she does it on her own.

There are lapses. We had one last week, which I wrote about.

“You’re actually doing very well,” I said as I whacked her bottom.  “In fact, I’m pretty happy with you and with things around the house.” (whack whack whack).

“And when things don’t get done fast enough, I get to do this, and that makes me happy.” (whap whap whap). 

A light session. I let her go when her cheeks had two cheerful read spots.

Well okay, they made me cheerful. 

Earlier this year, Lynda’s brother passed away. Once she had gotten back home from all the proceedings, she got back to the ordinary cycle of each day.  I looked often to see if she was sad, but she wasn’t terribly. She seemed pretty peaceful, all things considered. 

“I have reset myself to a new normal,” she said.  “Which is to feel good.”

“Things happen,” she continued, “that disrupt my day, but I realized when that happens, I can go back to normal soon enough, which is to feel good. If I need to, I can do something that helps me feel that way.”

And she does.  She has finally learned to nurture herself. She takes time to listen to the music she likes. She’ll relax and play a video game with the boys. And she does artwork. 

She never gave herself these things before.

Before, it was always a fevered rush to catch up, and usually she created more chaos in the attempt. And she rarely finished a task. Then she’d cycle down and just stay in bed. But now she has time to enjoy herself and take care of her tasks. 

I have always been her leader. But lately, sometimes, it feels like she jumped way ahead of me and is teaching me things. 

She’s fifty-one and she feels great. 

I think that's pretty great.  

Seeing the Signs

I guess it makes sense that at times Lynda knows before I do that she’s getting a spanking.

But it really makes my head spin to realize she doesn’t know that she knows.

You know?

Yesterday, she neglected one of her tasks. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t such a big deal, especially considering how well she has been doing in general. But it is one of those ironclad issues around here that always earns a spanking.

She caught her slip pretty quickly. Chances are I might not have noticed it, but of course, I did, although I didn’t say anything at the time. Even if I hadn’t noticed I would have seen indications from her that told me she knew a spanking was coming. 

She claims that when she knows she’s going to be spanked, she puts it completely out of her mind until I bring it up.  But it just won’t stay buried.

It has taken me a long time to recognize the signs, but it was clear this morning.

She was mildly agitated, although she tried not to show it. She fluttered about the house, busy with small tasks, moving past me just fast enough that it was hard to get her attention. At times she started conversations that got me off my train of thought.

Before ttwd, she was like this most of the time. And that was on her good days. But now it’s mostly when she’s trying not to think about how she’s probably going to get spanked.

I was thinking of dealing with this at lunch, but I didn’t want her to go on this way all morning. 

So we took care of it before I went to work.

And she was in a better mood. And she had a productive morning. 

We just had our thirtieth anniversary and I’m still learning about her.

Feeling Silly

When I give Lynda a deadline for an assignment, there is always the opportunity for her to renegotiate the time table if something delays her.  But she hasn’t really learned to take advantage of it. 

I can’t count the times we’ve had this conversation while she’s over my knee:

“You know, (smack smack). If you had called me earlier (smack), perhaps we could have adjusted your schedule (smack), and you could have avoided this (smack, smack).

“But I did call you. Ow!”

“Catching me at the office just before your deadline is not what I mean (smack smack)”

Then she always says this to me: “It’s just that I feel silly calling and asking you… ow.”

“How do you feel now?” I ask as I smack away.  

And there’s no answer. 

Well okay, there’s one answer she often offers: “I just figure you’ll tell me you still expect me to get it done. So why bother?”

That could well be the case.  But I also know that things can get more complicated than we anticipated, and I’m prepared to make adjustments for her. Even if she is right about my insisting that she ought to still be able to finish the task, wouldn’t it be worth a phone call to see if I’m flexible, especially after I’ve said, “call me if you hit a snag.”? 

This feeling silly issue is interesting to me. Many readers wrote in the last entry that, like Lynda, they feel silly calling their husbands “sir.” As I wrote before, I can accept it, but I don’t understand. If calling me “sir” makes her feel silly, how does being upended and paddled make her feel?

Again, I don’t have to understand. Sometimes it is enough to accept. But it makes me scratch my head, and I admit it makes me smile in amusement—but don’t tell Lynda, it might make her feel silly.

New Year's Update

Hi everyone, and happy New Year.

I hope all of you have had a wonderful season and I wish you a joyful new year. 

I haven’t written in a couple of weeks. Life has been as busy as yours with the holidays and work and such. 

Plus, I think I’m sick. I’ve ignored it, figuring I’m just tired. But yesterday I nearly fainted in front of a bunch of people. I finally told Lynda how I was feeling today and agreed to go to the doctor tomorrow.  I can follow orders, too.

Speaking of which, about her addressing me as “sir.” We dropped it for a simple reason. Turns out that she hates it. 

It was experimental and not something I wanted to insist on.

The readers’ reactions were mixed on this one. Some thought it was a great idea. Others didn’t think it was so nifty.  Some of you said it would be hard to keep from laughing if they had to say it.  Interestingly enough, the use of this title has a regional influence. Those of us in southern United States feel more comfortable calling one another “sir” and “ma’am” (also “sugar,” “darlin’,” and “hunny”). 

There was one helpful emailer that wrote: “How does this grab you: ‘Go f--- yourself, sir.’” Which I interpreted as negative feedback. 

Lynda’s reaction was not so strong (or graphic), but we talked about and agreed not to continue with it.  As I said at the start, it was an experiment. It was helpful for an afternoon, but if it makes her feel bad, it’s not worth it. 

It comes down to this. The power of my authority is not found in my title. For that matter it doesn’t come from my spanking Lynda. It comes from my willingness to lead and my care for her wellbeing. A little wisdom doesn’t hurt either. How the spankings are used is what this blog is mostly about.

And today, after I told Lynda how I’ve been feeling weak, clammy, and nearly fainted, I think I’ll say, “yes ma’am” about going to the doctor.   

Yes Sir No Sir

Are you ready for the big revelation? The big new thing that will raise our marriage to new heights? Get ready, here it is:

She calls me “sir.”

That’s it.

For these last two days, I’ve told her to address me in this manner. I don’t intend for it to be demeaning. It’s just an exercise to show respect and remind us of our respective roles. 

Like I mentioned before, the boundaries between our roles have been blurred a bit during these trying times. We’re not only stressed with the outside issues; we’re also stressed with each other.

Now, I’ve used spankings to help remind us of who is in charge. But like I said, in and of themselves they hadn’t worked well enough--mostly they made her mad.  So I decided to add this to the mix. 

Think of it as a game just between us, I told her.  You don’t have to do it in front of the children or in public. Only in private in the house or when we’re on the phone with each other. Then I demonstrated how it might be done.

If she answers a question, she will say “yes sir”, “no sir”, I don't know, sir.

To get my attention she will call me sir.  

Instead of saying “Okay,” (with it’s many nuanced tones accompanied by faint eye rolls), she will say “yes sir.” 

We can even argue but she will call me sir.

What do you want for lunch, sir?

The cat threw up, sir. 

Your fly is open, sir. 

It has worked pretty well so far. She has complied with a proper mixture of respect and whimsy. But it also helped in more difficult moments. Instead of speaking defensively when I asked if a task was done, she said simply “no sir,” and then we worked out the difficulties.  When she was agitated by something, she called me sir, and explained it to me without blaming me. 

The "sir" reminded me that I was in charge and should not blame her or yell at her or offer any biting sarcasm. I kept my voice low, responded courteously, and addressed the problem, like I do at work. 

The days are still hard but we are feeling better toward each other. 

Oh, and there have been spankings. Three of them so far.

“This is not for punishment,” I explained. “It is a statement of my dominance.”

“Yes sir,” she said.

“It is a reminder to you to follow my leadership.”

“Yes sir.”

It may not have been a punishment, but I made it count. 

"Ouch, sir." she said at one point.

This time there was no anger or resentment on her part.

I don’t know if we’ll keep it up. But the respect is back and perhaps also a small positive charge sizzling in the atmosphere. 

Tweaking Things a Bit

TTWD has not been working as well for us lately.  I’ve not wanted to spank Lynda as much and she has definitely been less receptive than in the past. When I've insisted, our conflict with each other is intense (at least for us).  

I finally have taken some time to think this through. 

We’re at the age where there are plenty of major issues to deal with. Nothing is easy. The next decade we’ll be helping our boys cross the threshold from childhood to manhood. My wife has already lost her parents and other family members. My parents’ health is precarious and I’ll soon be facing their loss. And there’s retirement to prepare for (somewhere WAY over the rainbow).  Oh, and there’s my work which is pretty demanding right now.

With all that and Christmas, too, there’s a lot to make us anxious. And when we get anxious, we lose track of our dominant and submissive roles. She gets scared and emotional (and stubborn and combative). I get scared and emotional (and angry and critical).

In short, when things get difficult, we become less mature, like we were with each other before TTWD.  But TTWD is supposed to help especially when we’re under pressure. 

It occurred to me (once again) that being angry and critical makes me less of a leader, not more. I’m supposed to not only HAVE control in the family; I’m supposed to BE in control of myself.

She hates being wrong, but she really hates my being angry and resentful of her.

The spanking is what we do rather than punish each other with resentful, sarcastic, ridiculing words. If I spank her and I’m still so immature as to resent and ridicule her, then I’m not being the leader I’m supposed to be.  The spanking without the leadership just won’t work.

I mean it REALLY doesn’t work.

So we talked it over this morning and I’ve decided to add something new to our arrangement. 

I’ll tell you about it soon and let you know how it goes. 

Promise. ;).