#gratitudeNow: The Quiet Domesticity of Service

I’m an early riser. Even on my days off, it’s rare for me to stay in bed much past six. Today was no exception. I popped out of bed, thoughts of Project Longbottom swirling in my head. I got up, got my shower, got into training pants (as well as the rest of my clothes). Then I gave Mama a good morning kiss. We performed a private little every day ritual we have, then I tucked her back into bed and headed downstairs.

A few hours later, long past when I’d made my own breakfast, done a few hours of research, coding, and some chatting with friends, she trooped downstairs, and into a recliner for a relaxing late morning of video-gaming.

I hit a certain stopping point in my research, where I really decided I needed a snuggle, and maybe a cup of tea, and came out to the living room for the first of those. I sat on the floor by Mama’s feet, which she rested on me, as I sat my head in her lap, enjoying the closeness.

After a time, she asked me to make her some scrambled eggs. I got right to it. I decided to really do the job, using real butter, dill weed, some cheddar cheese.

I got them into a nice bowl, served them to her, and set about making my tea, a nice London Fog (sort of the cappuccino of tea). After which I showed it to Mama, to see if she wanted to try it. I said I wanted to get back to my coding, and said told me alright, and tried her eggs. Which she liked very much indeed.

She told me, grinning, that she thought I was very good to her. And I told her I’m her boy, and that I live to serve her.

Which is absolutely true.

The whole thing made me so happy I decided to write this post. This sort of thing, this is part of that greater truth I’ve been slowly discovering for months now. Yes, we’re kinky people, who enjoy scenes, enjoy play. Mama gave me a wonderful and very thorough caning at a party we went to back in February. That stuff was, is, and remains a part of our lives. But there’s this other part, the day-in, day-out course of living our truth.

It’s filled with learning, and with joy.

First there was the part where Mama told me, more than asked me, to make her breakfast. I love when she tells me to do things. I love doing them for her, too. For the briefest moment, my brain did the mental juggling of analysis, tagging and evaluating that “working on code” and “having some tea” were both not as important as “thing Mama told me to do.”

Once that was handily computed, and I did that task, it was like my whole body and soul were set upon it, and in the doing, I felt more myself. I was describing to some kink friends the other day how our dynamic has become a whole lot more m/s, how both of us consider me to be Mama’s property. I know this, but there are moments where I really, all the way down feel it. This was absolutely one of them.

Every single day, I feel like we’re both growing, both learning This Thing We Are Doing. We’re both getting more comfortable with it, and learning how it works.

It’s bliss.

#dailyThink: Breakfast Fear

It started this morning with the milk. Which is to say, we were running low. No milk means no cereal, and more importantly, no coffee with milk, no London Fog tea. Unacceptable! Instead of deciding to muddle through until I go pickup a grocery shopping order on Saturday, I decided I would be bold and go out for milk to the convenience store.

There it is, sitting on the front seat of my car. Hello, milk.

I felt like a rebel as I got in my car. I hadn’t gone for a drive like this in a while. For weeks now it’s been grocery store runs only. This felt decidedly weird, a combination of thrilling, odd, and slightly foreboding.

I decided, pulling out of my driveway, I would do like back in the old days (you know, a month ago), and even avail myself of the luxury of some drive-thru breakfast from McDonald’s. I whipped out my phone, ordered it up, and got on my way.

At the convenience store, when I parked I noticed a few other cars in the lot. Everyone I saw behind the wheel was wearing a mask. I definitely scanned the front windows of the place, to see just how crowded it was. There was a scant handful of people, less than 4, so I ducked in, went straight to the refrigerated milk section and then made for the counter. Where now there was a giant set of plastic sheets across the counter, hung from the ceiling. It was like a giant sneeze-guard at a salad bar. I paid quickly, using my watch to do so, so I could minimize the amount of touching of anything I was doing.

I got back in the car, and headed for the McDonald’s. Along the way I started to notice some things.

For one, not only were the local roads really, really quiet, but there was no traffic whatsoever on the highway. I could tell from the GPS in the car.

When I got to the shopping plaza where the restaurant was, it was like a ghost town. So eerie.

I went through the drive thru and quickly got my order. The drive-up speaker-signboard had several COVID-19 advisory notices about changes in hours, restaurant policy, and safety plastered on it, as did the windows of the store itself.

I tried to put it out of my mind. Tried. Of course I noticed how everyone I could see through the windows of the place had on masks, and gloves.

I collected my meal, and my bottle of water, and, trying to emulate something I used to do all the time, pulled around the side of the building to park, and briefly sit and enjoy my meal, while watching the early morning sky and traffic around me.

Try is the operative word.

As I sat and ate, I noticed how few cars were on the road. And I began to feel a certain horror, a creeping dread, as I realized that nothing in this world was quite the same, including me.

Something had my hackles up.

I figured out what it was a moment later.

Out of my peripheral vision I had caught a police car with its lights on, in the lot. It was slightly across the way, where something bad had happened.

I couldn’t tell exactly what, and at first struggled to see what it was the car was even parked by.

But as I munched on my McMuffin, it became more clear to me that it was a motorcycle, or rather the remnants of one.

I sat there, thinking about it. Was there an accident? Was the rider drunk? Did anyone get hurt? The rest of my brief short foray out snapped into a sharper focus. Everything was different now. I thought to myself if I had some small fender bender in this post-COVID world, how would I deal with it? Would I be too scared to trade insurance info with the other guy? What would going to the hospital post-accident be like? Even the notion of it felt ponderously heavy, and filled with extra complexities and complications.

I got out of there, and drove home. The closer I got to my house, the more safe I felt. When I parked in my garage, and closed the door, I felt almost normal again. Almost.

I’ve had some big, scary things happen to me before in my life. In college, I was mugged at gunpoint. Several years ago, I was in an accident that made my airbag deploy, and totaled my car. I’ve dealt with severe illnesses and surgeries of loved ones.

But this thing, it’s different. I feel like long after there’s a vaccine for the disease, this lingering fear and unease will be with me.

More than ever, I’m resolved to be kind to myself, and to others. More than ever, I see the need for my mindful practice. Because right now, it’s pretty easy to get freaked out.

#gratitudeNow: Boots and pants and boots and pants....

So one interesting thing going on in my life lately, that’s only been bolstered by the quarantine has to do with my daily routines. This lovely picture you see is a pair of Rearz cloth training pants. One of 5 such pairs I own, and which I’m now wearing pretty much all the time, during the day.

I wake up (hence boot), get ready for the day, and get dressed in one of these bad boys, and get on with my day. Since I’m working 100% remotely these days, that means there’s a good chunk of my day where I’m in my adult, vanilla-aspected headspace, doing my day job, while wearing training pants.

I also during the day do chores around the house, like clean the kitchen, scoop the litter, take out the trash, all that jazz. The training pants kind of help me do that. They’re part of my new normal, where my kink life and my vanilla life aren’t as distinct and separate as they used to be.

It’s really got me thinking lately about identity and perspective, and how they’re influenced by my own ideas about them.

One thing I’m really working on hard lately is relaxing into Mama’s ownership of me, and not steering or putting words in her mouth. She’s said many times how much she likes me being in my trainers. When I’m wearing them, I definitely feel like she’s with me, and has her eyes on me at a distance.

It’s a really good feeling.

#gratitudeNow: Angry at the Bananas

You can kind of find mindfulness everywhere. This morning I found it by getting angry at the bananas.

Here’s how that went down.

Came downstairs to make myself some breakfast, including a nice cup of tea. I had this new box of tea pods I broke open.

I decided to get organized about it, and load the new pods into the little rotating stand that I have by the pod machine. But the bananas were in my way. There they were hanging on their little banana hook, in front of the stand.

Stupid bananas!

I picked up the hook and bananas and shifted it, them to our kitchen island. Satisfied with myself, but still angry at this inconvenience I began popping pods in the open spaces in the rack. As I did this some of the pods got dislodged and fell inside the stand.  The only way to get them out was to flip the whole thing upside down and shake the errant pods out onto the counter. Which I did, cussing under my breath.

Great, now I was angry at the pods, the rack, and the bananas.

That was when I found my mindfulness again. This was ridiculous, and really needless and petty. I realized I was not actually angry at the stand, nor the pods, not even those damn bananas. I realized that what I was angry at was my feeling of helplessness.

Which obviously right now comes from something else, you all know what.

I once again connected with a profound truth. In the moment, I often feel fear, pain, and anger... yes, even at bananas.

When I turned to face that fear and anger it didn’t go away, it changed shape to fit context. I could laugh at myself with gentle compassion as I realized the true source of my discomfort. I resolved once again to allow that sometimes I’m going to be scared, sometimes I’m going to hurt, sometimes I’m going to be angry.

Not so much that I’m permitted to be these things, to feel them but rather to fully embrace the truth that I have no choice otherwise, in that moment. Furthermore, that moment, like every moment, ends.

And then I was calm. 

So I did a few things. First, I finished loading the pods back in the stand. At the same time I smiled, laughed a little at how silly I can be. I realized that this whole lamentable affair was a shareable moment. So I took a couple of pictures, made them into the fancy photo you see below. And decided to write this post.

#gratitudeNow: Error Recovery

Recently, I’ve been fixing mistakes.

And by recently, I mean about the past two months.

First there was a financial mistake I made, which involved taxes. Thankfully I saw it way ahead of taxes being due and was able to tighten my belt and save for what I would owe.

Then there was another mistake I had made, farther back, thinking that someone very precious to me didn’t feel the same way about me anymore, and allowing our relationship to slowly wither. In the past week or so I found out I was quite wrong about that, and that they thought I was the one who didn’t want anything to do with them.

I assured them that was very not the case, and pandemic non withstanding, we have been reconnecting, albeit at a safe social distance of texts and phone calls and such.

Today, I paid that tax bill. And while it was bad, it worked out better than I was anticipating. With the pandemic going on I didn’t have to pay it today I could have let it go for a bit.

But I didn’t want to. It felt good to own my error and make it right. I’ve been having similar thoughts about my reconnection I mentioned above.

I think I reached a new milestone in maturity and self-love today. I accept that I’m an imperfect person, who learns, in part, by making mistakes and then correcting them.

That feels damn good. I’m glad I have the good sense to discover errors and then adjust to do the best I can to fix them.

I’m sometimes a perfectionist and often success driven. And in the past that’s led me to really punish myself for long past bad choices.

But that serves no one. And today that truth is just a bit more real to me.