When Ya Just Wanna Say, "They Started It"...

This could turn out to be a very long, rambling, confusing story. And, it's just as well, because I feel very confused, and very spent. I don't understand totally where my feelings are, or what they mean, or why I'm having them.

Steven and I have a couple friend--let's go with Marc and Jenni, to make it less confusing on that front. Marc and Steven have been best friends since they were little--they went through boy scouts together, we moved in together a week before they got married, they practically lived at one another's house growing up. And, quite frankly, the two of them are so scarily similar in so many ways it's not even funny.

And, then, there's Jenni. We all four went to school together, but ran with different circles, so I only knew her as a running partner in track. When Steven and Marc would hang out, though, they often wanted their women with them, so she and I started being very good friends. Now, though, I find her company exhausting. She's extremely critical, and it just wears me out. Before Steven and I were married, we were wrong because we were sleeping together before marriage; that was the first thing, and I could kind of go with that.

But, then we got married, and we bought a house. The colors were awful, I needed a folding table in the laundry room, the bedroom was too small, and she didn't like the paneling in the dog's area.

They are in the process of buying and remodeling a house that's bigger than ours, but is in far worse shape, so now I'm going about my schooling wrong.

I shouldn't be shooting for NP license after my RN, because it's 'crazy' wanting to work in a hospital for the rest my life. Also, (we work in the same hospital, doing the same job, mind, she just works days to my nights, 4 North to my 4 South), I should switch to days, despite the pay cut, because the people who work nights are 'lazy' because we don't give baths.

And, to top that off, I should go down to part time and make Steven pick up an extra job, like she's doing to her husband, because going to school full time and working full time is 'stupid.' Not that I'm 'really going full time. I mean, seriously, Grace, your school is only four days a week, mine's five.'


Her relationship with her husband also makes me sincerely uncomfortable. When we go to the men's softball games(they play on the same team), she wants to leave, and wants me to go with her. 'It's so HOT out here, Grace! I just want to LEAVE.'

"Jenni, your husband is batting."
"OH, it'll be over in just a second anyway, there's not really any point in watching. See, there? It's already over."

They get in these horrible, us-before-DD-and-then-some fights, with holes in the walls and coffee tables that crash to the floor, glass shattering to accent the sounds of the yells. They argue some in front of us, and it's always so uncomfortable to me. Steven and I have been talking about them a lot recently, because I've been less willing than usual to go help them set up their house.

Their relationship has baffled us, the lack of respect on both sides stunning us, and worrying us for their future. But, and maybe it's just THAT time of the month talking, but last night, I had the uncomfortable 'who are WE to judge that relationship' feeling. After all, he's cheated, and I've gone out driving with a guy friend of mine deep into the night, leaving Steven sick jealous. We've argued. He's lost his temper, I've thrown things. Granted, all of these things have been more than a little while back, but still...

Who are we to say we're different?

They argue, scream, punch walls, cold silences--but they've never looked away from the other. It's always only been them, since they were married.

And, what if I'm just deluding myself, that we're doing better? It feels that way, but, if you'll remember, the first time I caught him cheating--the post just prior was a huge breakthrough for me. I felt like we were doing the best we'd ever done, that we were turning a corner in our relationship...and all the while, I wasn't enough. Why is this time different? How do I know that it is? What if I'm just fooling myself?

Last night, when he and I talked, he lay beside me on the bed in the dark and kissed the side of my face. "We're working on us, Grace," he told me. "We're really working on openness and communication. Both of us. We've made mistakes, it happens. We're working on it."

I'd asked him if he thought we were going to make it, if we could do more than survive with our relationship, if we were going to thrive. There was no hesitation. "Yes." But, what if I had asked him that question last May? Would there have been hesitation then? Could I even tell a lie from the truth?

After a long moment of silence, he leaned his head against mine and said quietly, simply, "I'm sorry." A heartbeat, two, a breath.

"For what?"

"Hurting you. This should never have been something you had to worry about."

I lay in bed, still enough to count his breaths, thinking last night. And, you know what I've decided? For some reason, today, I'm hurting. I don't understand where all this is coming from. I don't know how to deal with it. He's been so good to me lately. He's treated me like an angel, tells me how excited he is that I'll be off more now for school, that he'll have my evenings instead of the hospital. That we'll make it. When I got upset over the money situation, he held me and rocked me.

"Just spank me already," I snapped. "Get it over with."

"Mm, mm," he answered. "I don't think you need spanking. I think you need holding."

He's been the kind of leader I've always wanted out of him...and yet...

What if this is all fake? And, I'm just too stupid to see it, just like before?

Shameless Stolen Tagline

I don't know how many of you read The Dish With Ward and June--but, you all really should, lol. It's always a very inspiring read; it seems often to touch on a subject that I really needed to "hear" right then.


Today, it was based off the tagline "Let's stop competing against each other, and work on completing each other."

School starts at the end of the month(I promise, I'm getting somewhere with this), and I'm going to only working three nights a week. Granted, they'll be weekends, but..since I normally work 5-6 nights a week... I normally have a fair bit of bonus and over-time pay. The more I've thought about this, the more I've stressed. How are we going to make it? Should I try to keep picking up? School has to come first...but, just HOW first? And, then, I start to budget. Not going to lie...I've budgeted clear through June of next year.

For the chick who's used to chunking money back in to our Emergency Fund(Savings), and extra towards debt, the idea of not having any extra is a terrifying thought. And, yet, instead of leaning on Steven, and letting all his, "Hey, we're going to make it. This is why we're going to school. It's going to be tight, but hey--you married the king of making hurt work. We can do this," get through to me...I've fought. I've snapped. My attitude has been in the toilet. I've been spanked more in the last two weeks than I have in the last three months. It's been crazy.

But, last night, I think we came to a sort of resolution, one that was only hammered home by June and Ward's post. Steven and I were arguing; I asked him if he needed to use my car for the next day's work. It's not our preference, either one of us--but, my car sips gas, while his chugs it.

"No," he said, stretching out on the bed, eyes half closed, ready for sleep. "I got gas this morning." A moment of dead silence.

"How did you do that?" I asked. Maybe he didn't sense the danger in my tone.

"Out of our account, why?"

"You broke budget!" I accused, instantly incensed. After all my hours of sitting and crunching numbers! How dare he! Get gas for his car!! What??

"Grace, I had to have gas," he reasoned.

"No! No, you didn't!! We had a PLAN! You were supposed to use MY car! Then, we wouldn't have NEEDED gas!" I felt tears threatening. To be fair--I'd called him at 2:30 that morning, from work, and asked if he minded me hanging with some of the work crowd that morning. In doing so, I completely forgot he was going to take my car. And, since that's actually his night time, he didn't care about cars or anything else but the inside of his eyelids. Can't blame him...I'm the same way during the day.

"You had your car," he defended, his eyes finally coming all the way open.


"That doesn't matter! You should have remembered to tell me no!" It makes me cringe to think how I sounded. Even now, hours later, sitting on the very sore bottom that tantrum earned me. Afterwards, he was very sweet, very snuggling, very logical.

"Grace," he said. "We're doing alright. We get paid soon, and we still have money. We can't help it when unexpected expenses come up. You needed to go to the doctor. You couldn't possibly have budgeted for that. And, we can't just not get gas because something comes up. I know you're worried. I know things are going to be tight for a while. I know you aren't used to this, but there are going to be checks where we're not doing anything but making it. And, that's ok. We're in college, trying to pay for a house and everything else. But, we're going to have to work together on this. We won't have a choice. We can't fight against each other, or compete, or throw around who makes more or less money. We're going to need to pull together and make this work. And, we can. We're going to be alright."

Much as I hated to admit it then, I hadn't been unduly spanked. I was perfectly atrocious, and honestly, he probably barely covered the offense. My stress has been working quite hard to shove us apart; I've picked up 4,5,6 shift runs, and will only  see him for several hours a week. And, as he reminded me last night--we're both looking forward to the shift switch. I can't wait to see him most nights. He can't wait to see me most nights, and to have me in the bed when he goes to sleep.

All that to say--I may need reminding later: but, for now, I want to work on completing, not competing.

Hugs and Loves for Emily

Jacked this picture from Susie, not even going to lie.

Heart breaking for Christina and Jim and Emily. Sending my thoughts and prayers and warm feelings and loves to that family!!

I know this has made for a rough fourth of July for them, and I'm praying that things will start looking up in a huge way, starting with today. May little Emily be blessed in every way, and come busting out of that ICU, wanting to know why she just can't have a bear in real life.

Loves.

I Must Have Been Blind

After some of my favorite bloggers went quiet, I guess I opened my eyes and looked around. I'd seen mention of an article, but, since everyone who mentioned seemed to be violently opposed to it, I felt I should just ignore it and move on. After all, for all of our differences and different places and different writing styles, we're a tough little community.

I don't doubt that I have friends here who support me.

I don't doubt that, while he's certainly not always been perfect, I have friends here who support my husband.

Likewise, our journey--both the journey of marriage itself, the journey of relationship itself, and our bumpy road of DD.

I assumed that this article would be blown off with a ferocity. After all, what did it really have to do with us? With our little community that shares its ups and downs and worries and fears and joys?

I underestimated. I didn't realize the extent of damage an article could do. After seeing it churn up the community that I love, I decided to see what it was all about.

I was appalled. Sickened. Disgusted. That woman's lack of research--or her prejudice towards the research she had--was striking. I was furious, upset. I still am.

I couldn't decide if I wanted to go private with my own blog. After all, the immediate, gut reaction is to grab up all the writings of your life, the things that share your struggles, and put your most difficult moments on show, and tuck it away.

After some deliberation, I've decided, at least for the moment, to not respond that way. I completely understand and support the members that have. I, however, feel that, for myself, that would be letting this stranger win over me. There are others who've struggled like I have. Who have been cheated on, and who have used DD as a tool towards working through that and other problems and towards a better and more peaceful marriage. Who want to use DD as a tool towards a stronger relationship. Domestic Harmony, as one of my favorite bloggers put it. And, for them, I want to leave my blog up. I know how much strength and encouragement I derived over the years from reading others' and seeing, "oh, wow, hey, they've been there! Look, they can't hold still, either! Man, her husband made a mistake...but, she forgave him, and they were able to move forward, stronger."

I need to talk to my husband about this whole situation. He's at work, and I've not had a chance to discuss this situation with him. But, I wanted, first and foremost, to say that this is my heart for blogland:

That we would take this like we do any other struggle and prejudice thrown our way and move on stronger.

That we would band together as a community and support one another.

That there would be healing for the hurt and damage this stupid article has done.

I'm not sure whether or not I'll be allowed after talking to Steven to stay public. As always, feel free to shoot me an email.

And, more important than all that stupid article nonsense---

Thinking about Christina and her beautiful family, and sending all good thoughts and encouragement and prayers her way.

Loves!

Oops!

I know that it's awful to laugh when you're in trouble. But, sometimes...sometimes, you just can't help yourself.

The other night, after a rather frisky encounter, we were lying in bed; I rolled over and looked at Steven and asked one of the questions that he rather dreads.

"Did you feed the animals today?" He thumped his head back against the pillow. Now, let me be clear: I normally do it. I don't much like the way he does, and it stresses me out, wondering whether or not my babies got fed. That being said, when I ask him to, I expect it done....but, I still ask, just in case.

"Not yet," he grumbled.

"Not even first breakfast?" I gasped, eyes flying to my phone to check the time. 8:30 pm! "Honey, they're probably starving!" In a t-shirt that hung to my knees and little else, I dashed out to the garage to get the dog food.

But...ya know, that bag was SUPER heavy. I don't mean a little bit, I mean I picked it up and grunted my way out the garage door, trying to get it around to the front yard. Unfortunately, this took me bending over--which I realized in the garage. Not wanting to flash my panties to our new neighbors, I went back inside.

"Honey, you're going to have to do it. The bag's just super heavy, and I need your help. Besides, you were supposed to have fed them today anyway." He groaned. He grumbled. He whined. He told me to take the bowls to the dog food, one at a time.  "Fine, then!" I snapped, finally at my wit's end. "I'll just get it myself!" It was dark, I reasoned. Who was gonna see anyway?

So, I went back to get the dog food and proceeded to drag the bag around towards the porch. Just for reference. Our new house is connected to an off the house garage via a kind of deck that has two layers. Directly in front of the building is nothing but woodlands. Directly behind is a ridiculously steep hill; a trailer with a sweet little old man living in it adorns the top. On either side of our house is another. The deck, however, is blocked by the garage and the house.

I had made it half way to the porch when the door inched open, and Steven stuck his head out. "Hey," he said. "Give me a minute, let me put some clothes on, and I'll come get it. Just come back inside."

"No," I said adamantly. "Look at the boys...they've already seen the food, and they need first AND second breakfast before we go to bed. I'll just take care of it, and you can do it next time. IF you've even fed them the times you've said...this bag is awfully full for you to have fed them the last two days."

He rolled his eyes. "I fed them! Maybe not as much as YOU feed them, but I fed them! Now, come back inside. I'm serious. I'll take care of it. I should have fed them, and I didn't but I will." I glanced at the boys. All three were dancing around in front of the gate, eyes trained on the bright red bag in my hand.

"No. I'll just do it. YOU go back inside. I'LL tend our pets." He growled. Like, actually rumbled down deep in his chest. I fought back a snort. "And, close the door," I instructed. "I don't have jammie bottoms on under this, and with the garage light, the porch light, and the kitchen light all coming through the doors, the whole deck's lit up."

"Grace," he said, irritated, "You're pushing it. I'm serious, you're about to get yourself spanked for not listening. I'm telling you. I'll take care of the dogs. I'm sorry I didn't do it earlier, but I'll get it now. Come back inside."

"No," I shrugged, feeling very matter of fact.

"Grace..."His tone was laden with warning. "If I have to come out there, I'll spank you all the way to the bedroom before we even get started...come inside. Now."

"You can't come out here, you're..." and the door flung open, and he stormed outside. Stark naked. His hands on his hips, fire shooting out of his eyes--under normal circumstances, he might have made quite an imposing picture...but, with all the lights spotlighting the deck, and him buck naked...I felt a traitorous giggle forcing itself up out of my throat...I clapped my hands over my mouth.

"Back inside," he snarled, pointing towards the kitchen door. I lost it. I started laughing and didn't stop until I had been bent over the bed for a hot minute. I quit then...but, I will say, I've teased him about it mercilessly since...and now, even he sees the humor...

That Was Six!

"Alright. Does that all make sense?"

"Yes, Pastor--it's pretty much a walk down the isle, repeat after me thing. Got it." I nodded vigorously, trying to hide my nerves behind the make-up and curls.

"And, don't forget--we don't want hoots and hollers or anything, but hold the kiss long enough that our photographers can get some good pictures."

"Oh...how long is that? Like, I could use some direction. Can you give me a number to count to?"

"Oh, ok...uhm, how about five?"

"Five." Another vigorous nod. "Like...1, 2, 3 kind of five? Or 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi?"

The pastor looked utterly confused, but then smiled off my oddness.

"One, two, three will be fine," he assured me. "Don't worry. You make a beautiful bride."

"Thank you--uhm, you're gonna tell Steven, too, right? You'll tell him it's five?" After a promise to do just that, he made his way out of my tiny dressing room and down the hall to where my fiancé waited. Dad took my arm.

"I'm so proud of you. He's going to love it...but, remember--don't lock your knees; seen way too many people drop like a horse at the altar from locking their knees." I barely had time to roll my eyes before the bridal march started, and the doors swung open.

Steven stood at the end of that isle, seeming so very far away and so very dashing in his suit, my bright yellow themed flowers pinned to his chest.

I met him at the end, our close family and a few friends looking on. After a hurried whisper, insuring he had in fact been told '5', we said our vows.

He said "I do,", and I did, too.

And, they announced my new name, and told Steven he could kiss me--like he's ever needed permission. :)

"That was six!" I yelped as I pulled away--my first words as a married woman.

Romantic, huh? :)

Waiting For a Spanking...Ew

There's something really, really unpleasant about waiting for a spanking...

ESPECIALLY if I know that said spanking is going to be...quite sincere.

Add on to that a total, crushing weight of guilt...

And, you get: Suck. And Dread. Like, capital D Dread.

I worked last night. Went in at 7. Arrived home at 7:30. At 7:45, Steven had to get up and get ready for work. He gets off at 7 tonight, then a thirty minute drive home. And, then, I'm sure, I will get a truly terrible thrashing.

I've mentioned several times that we're closing on the house soon. Wednesday, in fact. We were laying in bed, trying to discuss the times that would work best last night, when his phone buzzed. We both knew it was the lending lady, so I snatched it to be the first to see what she said.

Irritated, he snatched it back and took it straight into the text and showed it to me.

To a normal person, I'm sure that would be no big deal...to me, I had flashbacks a certain other intercepted text messages and the heart wrenching months that followed. Immediately, I flopped over onto my stomach, facing away from him.

"Fine," I hissed, irate. "Go cyber-fuck whoever you want. See if I care."

(In case you guys missed it, that was definitely a mistake.)

"What?"

"You heard me," I grumbled. And, he swatted me! (Granted, now I'm very aware that it was for attitude..but, at the time--and I still don't know that I feel it was his wisest course of action, given the circumstances--all I could feel was a horrible sting and the feeling he was scquelching my feelings for his mistakes.)

Like a jackrabbit, I popped up and---

(Insert groan and face palm here)

Slapped him, right across the face. I called him a cheating son of a bitch, and everything else I could think of. We argued for the next hour while I got ready for work. I felt angry, and wore it like armor, not letting myself feel anything else.


I thought he was going to spank me.

He told me he intended to. And then added, "But not right now. You're not in the right frame of mind, it'll just make you angry. And, I'm not cheating. I haven't since that last time. I'm trying to prove that I 'm ready for it to just be us, starting our life's journey together. I'm sorry for what I've done. But, right now--a spanking won't be something that helps you. It'll just piss you off." A pause. "Do you need me to bring you lunch?"

I informed him quite roundly that I was NEVER going to be in the right mindset for a spanking for slapping him, when God knew he deserved it! Steven shrugged me off. I had just finished getting dressed, when I turned around and looked at him.

"Why? Why wasn't I good enough then, and what on earth makes me good enough now? I haven't changed."

He sighed.

"It was never about you not being good enough. Never. You are. I don't know what possessed me when I did that, but it was wrong, and not at all your fault." He said it was all on him....

But.

I still slapped him.

And that's always off limits. He assured me that he never hit me anywhere but the bottom, and I was never to hit him. But, especially not in the face.

I left, and I stewed. And simmered. And cursed. And cried. And worked. And, slowly, remorse started to filter in.

I don't think my panic or reaction were inappropriate. I feel that they were the consequences of what he's done, and that they will take a long, long time to heal.

But...hitting...eesh.

Out of line.

And, now...

Now, I wait.

Ew.