It's Going To Be A Very Long Week...

Grounded. For a week--well, really, three, but from blogging itself, I'm grounded for a week. I'm allowed to get on here and post this, and then it's zero computer for...oh, pretty much forever. And, it's one of those "You can get your stuff back in stages" things...so...we'll see how this goes...



Back in a week. :(

Rebellion, Rear Your Head

So, I don't know where it's coming from...

And I don't know where it started...

But, it needs to go.



I've read a million times that fifth "D" is for distance. And, normally, I'm not really a distance girl. If I'm not in his lap, I'd better be in the same room at least. Just physical presence won't cut it, either. I need the communication and comfort and kisses and deep conversations. I both need to tell him I love him and to be told he loves me, at the very least, on a daily basis.

But, every now and then...the Antsy feeling sneaks in. I started feeling irritable, too-work focused, too-house focused, and I allow furthering our relationship to fall to the way-side. Instead of tuning in when we're having conversations, I breathe. In, out, in, out, in, out...it becomes my own little mantra inside my head, keeping me level. Normally, Steven catches on. He'll ask me my thoughts, and God help if I say I'm breathing. Then, he knows that I've shut down. And, that earns a spanking every single time.

This time, though, he's a little behind the game. And, whereas a couple posts ago, talking to him about why I was getting spanked and having him listen and dismiss it was a really huge deal--well, I do actually have to not deserve the spanking for that to work. Otherwise, I get the "I won" sense, and then I want to listen to him even less!

Take last night for example. I was having a 'cleaning binge'. At first, it wasn't too bad, but I could easily feel myself going there. So, I casually suggested(yeah, right...more like demanded a million times) that he go on to bed, I'd be there in a few minutes.

He did NOT approve, and he did NOT go right off. Instead, I got the warning, "If you say that to me one more time, you're done. Understand me?" I agreed...and then retorted,

"Yeah, that's fine. I understand. See what happens when I try to look out for you. I know you're tired, and you'd feel much better if you'd just do that-thing-that-I-can't-say." Really??? He told me to turn off the water. I ignored his "request". Rather than push the issue, he just got up, gave me a kiss(on the cheek, because I didn't turn my head very willingly), told me I had twenty minutes to finish up, but I needed to be in bed by 1 am.



Out of sheer stubbornness, I waited until 1:02. He didn't notice. In fact, he thanked me for going in there at one. Which made me feel guilty, which made me even angrier. So, I went to the bathroom and spent an extra long time taking out my contacts.

When he asked why I was gone so long, I told him it was none of his business. Naturally, he disagreed. He continued asking, over and over. Finally, I just ignored him. He yanked himself up out of bed, flipped on the lights and sent the dogs from the room. (Blue doesn't take it well when I get spanked). Obligingly, I bent over on command.

But, while in that position, I began to defend myself. I told him he was failing to respect my privacy, that I "Don't ask you how it feels to take a dump, so don't ask me what *I* do in the bathroom, whether it's taking out my contacts or peeing."  And other such arguments...

And, they worked! He let me up and laid back down. We didn't touch as we fell asleep. Cue even more frustration, even more distance.

When we woke up this morning, I was slightly belligerent when I did speak and quiet more often that not. He left.



I go to work in a few hours. I probably won't see him.

And, for right now...

That's just fine.







He'll be lucky if he doesn't come home to another dog....or a ferret.

That Terrible Topic

It came up again tonight...

That Terrible Topic...

That "M" word that gets bandied around so much.

....you guessed it....

"Maintenance"...

For some reason, it has crossed Steven's mind that perhaps I need it.



Who, me? Never...

Nonetheless...despite my PERSONAL opinion on the subject...it keeps coming up. I think it's because he's noticed a rather unhappy trend--every....oh, I don't know...three or four days, I start pushing some boundaries. Not a huge line or anything, but it's kind of an antsy feeling.

Let me be perfectly clear: being in trouble sucks, I would never pursue it, challenge him intentionally, or anything like that...

It's just...things start seeming easy. I get a little full of myself, proud that I've made it so far, confident that I can EASILY make it another...oh, forever or so.

And, then, before I know it: BAM! I'm being spanked, before I can even blink. Cue outraged, how has this *happened* to me??

Anyway, long story short, we were chatting in the car, and I said something about not being in trouble in *ages*, and it just kind of went from there. He's given it two weeks to think about, and I just don't know how to feel about it.



So, I was busy trying to dissuade him and so on, and the only response I got was:

"Fine. We'll just go ahead and decide to do. Every night. At nine."

How frustrating a response is that???

So, naturally, I backpedaled hardcore and have so escaped THAT fate...gah, I'd die if I got spanked every day....

So, now we're back to two weeks of "mulling over logistics and necessities"...

UGH!

:)

We had another one of those just wonderful days today--where everything felt so awesome, and it was perfect weather outside, and everything was just glorious. :) 

We went to class, then out to eat with some new friends of ours. After that, it was to the park with Diesel and Blue, sweet boys, with the same friends. We had a good walk, and I dragged the Boxer up into the swing with me for a while. 

Side-note: everyone should swing often. I love those things. :) :)

Then, on to watch his little brother's basketball game before going out with his family to a wonderful little Italian restaurant. 

We went to Wal-mart and got some board games, too! (In a pickle and Yahtzee). Loved today. 

It was just one of those verbalize the "I love you"s days, where he held my hand even more than normal, and kissed me more often, and just in general made me feel so, so cared about. 

Speaking of...

I think I'm going to get back to snuggling and movies and games. Maybe this is the start of a wonderful, trouble-free streak!! Here's hoping! 

Every Reason for Respect

Ok, so my mom says my new-found love for a clean house serves me right for all the times I left hers trashed.

I say I like things neat.

Steven says I go on "cleaning binges and purges." His has such a negative connotation, don'tcha think? :P Unfortunately, his may be the most accurate. I may be mostly fine with the way the house looks for two or three days, then decide to take out the trash.

And sweep.

And mop.

And do all the dishes.

Plus the laundry.

Plus clean out an extra room.

Plus the deep clean the bathroom.

Plus...



You get the picture. And, on the surface, that seems like a really good thing. A GREAT thing even. But...really, it just stresses me out. Hardcore. I get wound-up, obsessive.

Today was one of those days. I had to be at work by 2:30, but once I got started, I just couldn't stop. And, it wasn't enough that I was in that mood--I didn't care if Steven HELPED or not...as long as he wasn't playing a video game. So, I told him I felt taken advantage of while he played and I worked(cheap shot, I know...especially to this man who does so much for me. He promised to always keep flowers in the house, just because I mentioned how much I love them.) So, he stopped. Just like that. Turned off the game and grabbed some clothes I was folding to help.

Instead of thanking him and being appreciative--I unfolded what he folded and told him I'd need to redo them, because the edges were crooked. To be fair--I'm a little OCD...It really would have driven me nuts to see the corners hanging out everywhere. But, I could have said that SOOO many other ways.

He teased me about it a little, but, really mostly left it alone. Until I was in the shower, and called for him to grab me the soft scrub so I could clean it while I was in there. He refused, partly because I didn't have time, partly because I'm allergic to bleach and he prefers me to not clean it while I'm in it. Irritated, I told him I'd just  get it myself. Naturally, that went over well.

Before I knew it, we were in a full-blown argument, and he was telling me how angry it made him that I blamed him for not helping clean, when the times he did clean--things weren't good enough! I kept mostly calm through the whole thing--just mostly enough to cop a smart-ass attitude anyway.

He grabbed for the spoon, and I got one stinging splat before he gave me another chance to talk it out. He told me I was getting spanked, and I was absolutely indignant. WHY ON EARTH should I get spanked for KEEPING THE HOUSE CLEAN, after all?

Yeah, so TOTALLY not the point, but that IS where I went with it. He explained again, for the millionth time, that it wasn't what I was doing, it was my attitude during the doing. This was about the time the "cleaning binges and purges" comment came to bear.

With a big ol' spoon-print on my butt, I was willing to be much more respectful. So, when he asked me, "Seriously, Grace...do you not think you over-reacted this morning?", I responded, "No, I maybe handled things too rough, but I really do get upset about the cleaning thing. I have so much else going on that I can't control, with bills and work and money and school, and changing majors and all that, the one thing I CAN do something about is how we live. I don't want the house trashed all the time. I don't think it was a 'cleaning binge'. I think it was just me trying to get a handle on SOMETHING."



And, ya know what? That made sense to him. Instead of a spanking, I got a hug. Now, I'd love to say that I took the whole thing in stride at that point. But, I didn't. My attitude soured. I felt...slighted? almost? I'm not sure...but still a little indignant that the whole situation had even taken place, frustrated because I felt off-balance---

And, worse yet! The shower still didn't get clean. So, I got quiet. I didn't talk much on the drive to pick up my car(it had a flat yesterday, so I left it at my other job.) He could have pushed.

He didn't. Instead, he went and put air in my tire while I was at work, and gas in my tank. Then, he came and dropped off my keys.

At first, I felt like I'd won. I didn't get spanked, I got my way--what else can a girl ask for?



YEah...I think that picture covers that nicely. Because, after considering it, I realized how right he really was. He does so much for me. It was ridiculous to freak out over a sheet folded a way I didn't like. It was dumb to shut down about all of it. And, I didn't win--he made the decision to not spank because it was a situation that legitimately bothered me. I didn't bullshit an answer to get out of something. I opened up about feeling stressed out, and he let me go with that and a warning.

And, I'm so glad.

He let me think through things on my own and remember(AGAIN, I know) that we're on the same side. Like he always says..."I'm not out to get you here!"



And in doing all of that--he definitely won.

Gotta love that man.

But....With *People*???

 So, the other day, Steven's family was all due to come over and play games and eat dinner and such...Now, let me be perfectly clear: I *adore* his family. Every one of them. And, it was his aunt's birthday...so, I wanted this to be a big deal.


  Steven and I live in a definite fixer-up....but, I was determined every inch of every room(that they were going to see, anyway) was going to be spotless. It was going to be *perfect*. He'd even promised to come home by 4 in the afternoon to help me clean and prepare! I was psyched....

And totally stressed. Whereas I love it while it's happening, the prep for these kinds of things REALLY freak me out.

Four o' clock rolls around. Four thirty. No Steven.

Four forty.

Five till five, my phone rings. Relieved, but still slightly miffed, I answered.

"Where *are* you? I'm not done, nothing's ready...you were supposed to be home an hour ago! I tried to call..." But, he'd been on a motorcycle ride with his dad...And,then...

"And I had to go find my aunt...she tried to come early and got lost. Don't worry though...we're pulling in." Wait a minute--WE? People are here?? EARLY??

And the floor's only been mopped three times?? WHAT??

Cue utter meltdown, tears, hanging up, throwing the phone, and going into a vaccuming frenzy. Steven sauntered through the door, while his aunt was still getting out of the car. Normally, I could have looked and really realized just how good he looked after a ride...Not then. Then, all I noticed was the house was still dirty and PEOPLE were here. 


Not one of my better moments, for sure. I yelled, and screamed, and shoved. He tried apologizing for being late.

He tried hugging me(cue shove).

He tried talking to me.

I was not in a very hearing mood.

Finally, he propelled me into the living room, separate from anyone, turned me around, and swatted me, several times. I honestly don't know if I stopped bratting because it hurt, (he doubts this possibility), or because it just stunned me.

"There are PEOPLE," I hissed, mortified.

"There's one person, she's in the other room, and you need to chill. So. CHILL."

And, I did. We all had a great time with the games. Like he'd told me, no one was judging. They didn't say, "Hey, Grace...you missed a speck here." They said, "HA! I WON!" (We played Balderdash, btw...awesome game.)

Still got spanked for the attitude and disrespect later, naturally. But, overall...the world didn't come to an end...everything went smoothly...

And his brother's coming over tonight.

Small Mercies..

It's odd to me how a mercy can backfire so sincerely.  The past week has been a very strange, confusing week for me, and I think I need to just get it out there so I can understand my own self. Maybe by the end of my rambling I will, lol!

A few days ago, I was being spanked--I *guess* I deserved it (kidding, I knew I did. Breaking grounding is never really an acceptable way to go. Still...I've been grounded for FOREVER...it gets tough). Anyway, he let me off relatively easy. I wasn't finished being mad, I wasn't finished sulking, and I didn't feel any real guilt over what I'd done. BUT. Here's what I know: shutting down(which I'm SOOO good at) and/or still being pissy afterwards WILL get me spanked again. And, I was plenty sore enough. So...I faked it.

Three days later, I was still feeling it. The invincible-ha!-I-won attitude. He knew I was on edge, but couldn't quite pin down why. Everything came to a head on Valentine's Day night. I didn't feel connected, and it bothered me. I wasn't quite sulking, but I didn't want to be touched or hugged or loved on. I just wanted to be left alone.

It didn't help that we had something of a rocky start to V-Day anyway--I felt he didn't want to do anything, and I'm a holiday addict. The day before I pitched a huge, hurt-feelings-and-all fit, claiming I didn't "want to do a damn thing for Valentine's Day!" I yelled. I cussed. He tried to remain patient, but he had to go to work and didn't have time to deal with me properly. So, I got promised a spanking, I got cap cream, and I got a paper.

Here's the thing, though--even though I was mad, I still wanted him to REALLY know I loved him. So, I decorated the house with colorful post-its, each with something I loved about him, or how much I loved him, or what I admired, or all the time how I loved him...plus there was something chocolate and presents out. So, when he came home, a little after 2 am--the spanking didn't happen. He felt appreciated and that the situation in my own self had clearly been dealt with and didn't need his hand.

He was wrong. So...fast forward again, V-Day night. I'm tense, separate. He's confused, pleading with me to just be open, just be honest with him about what was going on with me. He'd help, whatever it was.

I was standoffish, cold,...and determined to head to my favorite hide-out with a bottle of soft scrub: the shower. He was equally determined for us to have that conversation, and for me not to bail.

I turned around and started to walk out of the room. He grabbed my arm, which I promptly yanked away, and stormed right back into the bathroom and started stripping. He slammed in and turned the water off. For a moment, it was like a game of tug of war with the water faucet.

Then, he was gone...I stepped back beneath the water, proud of myself for "winning"....

Right up until he returned. With the spoon.

I quickly regretted walking away from him, but, when the spanking was over, I didn't turn to him. I still felt the distance. I still wanted to be left alone. I was feeling horribly independent--and hating myself for it. It left me with a depressed, almost numb feel.


So, we took a little trip to the bedroom, where I went back over the bed for a repeat session. This time alternating with the brush and the spoon.

When I gave in at that point, there was nothing independent about it. Everything about me felt submissive, sore, and totally cared for. I couldn't get close enough, I couldn't be kissed enough, I couldn't tell him enough how much I loved him.
 

And, even though it was small mercy to let me off the first time--it was a bigger mercy to not go easy on me the last.