Mommy Monday: REAL Life

Good news…I wrote over 3500 words last week. Bad news…they were all in the renewal packet of PanKwake’s disability form.

I cannot even remember if it is three or four nights that I have slept on the crappy twin bed in my study to be close at hand when she calls. And sleep is most definitely a misnomer. More like tiny naps between TV changes, food and computer.

And just as I finished unpacking the last box in the Pink Paradise, we have begun house hunting. Because the lovely old house where Cookie Monster lives, the one with walls so thick that cellphone signals are hard to get…well, the sound of PanKwake on the stairs not only does travel to the neighbor’s…it is amplified.

As my closest friends will tell you…I have been virtually unreachable via Skype, Facebook or anywhere else either.

So this is an incredibly hard post to write. But I have gotten to the point after 18 months that I can in the short term no longer maintain this blog. I have decided to suspend it indefinitely while fingers crossed things settle down.

As a romance/erotica writer, I have long maintained that we fail our readers by ending our stories where REAL life begins. The words “I love you” are only the beginning. And trust me, not even the millionaire Dom of your dreams, better than any hero you have ever read or written, can straighten out and slow down this roller coaster ride we call life.

Life sucks!

But I know now beyond any shadow of a doubt that what I have always ‘preached’…

Love is the only thing that makes it worth living is true just as much or even more.

Funny FaceEven though I look like shit, since I saw this photograph…one of the first of me and Cookie Monster taken during our Legoland trip with PanKwake…I knew it was the perfect metaphor for what He and I share. We both hate rides, especially roller coasters. But we did it together for her. Notice how we hold on to one another for dear life. That’s how this thing works…how it is supposed to.

Oh and my third core value…the one that says frequent kinky sex is the best way to show someone you care…that is also very true. Almost four months…not only not a single fight…not a single disagreement.

And it is most definitely NOT because we have not had the opportunity or because of any honeymoon period…when your family lives on the autistic spectrum such a thing simply does not exist.

  • Whether it is putting together a trampoline as a couple…
  • Packing a hoard of pink and sometimes even broken toys and dolls…cushioning them in bubble wrap because they are precious to a special little girl…
  • Dealing with police officers on a busy street during a meltdown…
  • Choosing to clean the house, make dinner and give the man his nightly massage even though you are bone tired yourself…
  • Going to work even though someone else’s kid kept you up half the night…
  • Being screamed at by the neighbors…
  • Or hiding knives to keep an autistic little girl safe…

Those are just a small sample of the things that we have dealt with over the past few months. Things that would have had many couples screaming and yelling at one another, passing blame and broken more than one.

And yes…sex has been used to destress…defuse…and communicate as it should be when words just are not enough. Kink has kept me sane. And as a REAL Dom should He has given me what I needed…not taken what He wanted. In return, I have given back that which the sub can…respect, trust and love.

I have seen first hand that ALL the bullshit I wrote and preached to you in my books and on this blog really honest to goodness does work. With the RIGHT person.

Cookie Monster as part of a childless couple and then a widower had never seen Frozen. Last night PanKwake and I corrected that. As I fell asleep in his arms, we talked about it. As I said then, I wish it was as simple as ‘AN act of unconditional love.’ But it is never just one, folks. It takes them each and every single day…for the rest of your lives.

This is not good-bye. One of the reasons I am doing this is so that I can use what precious little writing time I do have to finish off Ægir’s and work on some other stories I have left unfinished. And I hope in a few months…after ANOTHER move and settling back down again…to resume this blog that I love so much.

The honest truth though is that while I can live without being a New York Time Bestseller…I cannot lose my precious child to the challenges of autism…and I will not squander the most precious gift that Fate or my goddess ever gave me in Him. So for however long it takes I am putting my focus where it belongs…on family.

I am living what before I could only talk like doctors and ‘experts’ about theoretically. Now I know.

So until we ‘meet’ again…I hope that you too will put your focus upon what REALLY matters…

Those you love and who love you in return.


Foody Friday: Recipes…

I just signed up for an online class on how to make YouTube videos. One of the main reasons of which is this blog. You see the other day I was reminded of why I needed to make them.

Our gardener text messages Cookie Monster that she will see us next month but could I please send her the recipe for my cookies (not sure which ones as they had oatmeal, chocolate no-bake oatmeal and chocolate chip ones). My response was my bog-standard…no, but she can join me in the kitchen and I’ll show her how.

bessie mae
My beloved Bessie Mae

And that is my hope of what I can be doing with this blog in a few weeks too. Inviting you into my kitchen with Bessie Mae…yes, I named my stove. (My dishwasher too…Bertha Rae.)

That was after all how I learned to cook…not by books or recipes but by doing. Want to hear the story?

I was sixteen and other than doing dishes or boiling water for my coffee in the mornings I had never cooked. You see our kitchen was already shared by my mother and Nanny (great-grandmother). But that Friday night my step-father told my mother to sit down that there was no way they were setting me loose on the world without knowing how to cook. So that night I learned to fry fish. Of course, the rest was easy…throw fries in the oven and grate cabbage for cole slaw. He made the hush puppies…that was still a bit beyond me back then.

I have told the story before of his mother Grandma Quarters (not real name but when she was little Mere-mere could not say the other one so she said quarter and it stuck). This strict elderly Southern Baptist woman told me to knead the biscuits until they felt like a woman’s titty. I have always wondered how many titties she went round feeling. LOL!

Even now when I want to make something different (I try to do this at least once a week for variety…if Cookie does it in the bedroom I ought to return the favor in the kitchen, don’t you think?), I almost never stick straight to the recipe.

His birthday dinner was a prime example. One of the starters that I made was Swedish meatballs. I had never made them before. In fact, I had only ever tasted the ones that you get from Ikea. I found two recipes…one called for dill and the other called for nutmeg and cardamom. Two vastly different sets of seasonings. When I sent Cookie to the store, I told him to come back with one or the other. The local shop did not have something as unusual as cardamom so he came back with dill. But I liked the fact that the nutmeg/cardamom recipe called for you to soak your bread crumbs in milk. So I ended up combining the two recipes…and everyone loved those meatballs. They stuffed themselves on them and barely had room for leg of lamb and Mississippi Mud birthday cake.

You see the thing with recipes is that like life sometimes there is simply no substitute for just doing it rather than reading it. So fingers crossed that very soon you will be joining me in my kitchen to learn to cook the way I did…by sight, smell, feel and taste. Sometimes even hearing too as I remember fondly counting off the pops as the jars in the pressure cooker sealed in their goodness.

Food like some other good thing I write about is after all a sensual thing meant to be experienced.

REAL Woman Wednesday: Keep Moving!

Last week, I shared my grey hairs with you. Today I would like to share something more precious…HOPE.

One of my favorite actors and role models is Dick Van Dyke. I am a bit too young to remember his first TV series, the Dick Van Dyke Show. And a deep dark confession…I have never seen Mary Poppins. But as a child I loved Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. So when I saw that he had been caught performing the theme song from that movie over breakfast at Denny’s, I had to look it up.

Pretty impressive, huh? Especially for an ‘old’ guy. But while I was searching, I found this one too.

A book on ageing? From this man, I’ll buy it.

But what I really got was when he said that he did not feel that old. I know that feeling…I don’t feel fifty either.

Yes, my knee may act up after a long Sunday walk with Cookie Monster and PanKwake. But do you know why? Because I landed on it the wrong way a few months ago while playing tag in the park with her and some friends.

That’s right the ‘old’ woman was running around chasing a bunch of little kids while moms half my age were sitting on the benches on their cell phones.

And sometimes my back bothers me…but again old injuries.

Just like the hair coloring, those are nothing that a couple of ibuprofen and some vitamin/herbal supplements can’t handle.

It is what is between your ears and in your heart that matters. And there…honestly…I am somewhere in my 20s.

As with Van Dyke, I attribute a good deal of that to love. Despite a VERY rough week (not even REAL millionaire Doms can make challenges like autism just disappear…only living with it a bit easier), I cannot think of a time in my life when I have been happier. A bad day is better than good ones used to be…because of love.

I like too his comments on singing and dancing…I resemble that. I am a horrible dancer and a worse singer but I do them both anyway. And often…even to humming Chitty Chitty Bang Bang all day after that video.

So yes…those videos were enough to whet my appetite for more of his wisdom. I will be buying and reviewing Keep Moving.

But it may take me a while to get around to it…because PanKwake, Cookie Monster and life KEEP this girl MOVING.

Teaser Tuesday: Warning…

More than just the summer weather is heating up, folks…

Back to Ægir’s Wife today… (Strong R-rating)

She was breathless not just from the exertion, but more so from the desire and anticipation coursing through her whole body from toes to the roots of her hair. “Yes, Master. Yes, Sir. Yours to do with as you wish.”

She was glad that her head was down because she could not stifle the satisfied grin at the quick intake of breath she heard from them both.

12289665_1182362095124825_7642547613820884416_nOh yes, this lifestyle was most definitely misunderstood. Doms were not tyrants with some deep psychotic need for power over another human being. And subs most definitely were not powerless victims. In some ways, this partnership was the ultimate form of equality. Both needing something and in turn giving back. Facultative symbiosis as scientists would call this relationship that was not absolutely necessary but gave each a greater chance of survival. Or happiness in this case.

It was her turn to benefit with a quick intake of breath as Mikael’s hands wove through her hair, tugging firmly until she stared up into those warm silvery depths, “As it should be, brat.” They twinkled with mirth as he unbuttoned his jeans and released his hard cock.

Kirsty sighed as she leaned in to kiss the head of it. Her tongue swirled like a kitten lapping at cream and she was just as satisfied. But Bjorn was not to be denied either, releasing his cock from the confines of too tight jeans. She turned her head and smiled up at him before swallowing half of it.

For several long minutes she took turns contentedly sucking first one then the other. She stifled a girlish giggle at the thought of how hot a porn it would make. Except of course that this intimacy was about more than mere sex. It was love.

She used her hands as well as her mouth to keep them both on the edge. She fed off of the low roars and subtle thrusts of their hips. She could not take her eyes off of either of them. Her husbands.

She would have been more than content to finish them both off this way. Some odd desire to have them both come over her tits and face. But they were not.

Mikael held out his hand and helped her clumsily rise to her feet. She blushed but it was not necessary as he bent and kissed her. “Beautiful,” he whispered causing her blush to deepen.

She did not have the opportunity to protest though. Bjorn quickly distracted her with pain as he pinched her nipples firmly between his fingers, tugging and pulling as if sucking. Now it was she who was moaning and not so subtly rubbing against them, an unspoken plea.

She jumped as Mikael’s hand made firm contact with her bare bottom. “Patience, brat. We have all night.”

Bjorn leaned in and suckled at her ear as he whispered, “The rest of our lives, our sweet Frejya.”

That was all it took as her body did that which this man had from that first night in this cabin trained it to do. It soared as she felt the tendrils of need both tighten to the point of breaking and spring forth. She bit her lower lip to hold back the scream that even then would have exploded unbidden if not for Mikael’s mouth covering hers and swallowing the cries of passion.

She felt fingers between her legs, homing in upon the core of her insatiable need. Her screams intensified as those fingers plunged within her depths until she felt the wetness gush forth with the power of the fjord meeting the ocean. Time lost all meaning as her body hung in the heavens of release. But still those fingers moved deeper and surer within her.

She collapsed mindlessly into their arms. Then suddenly she found herself among the soft warmth of the bed where it had all began. Her throat tightened momentarily as she thought of him. Sven. The one who had captured her imagination and heart from the beginning. But she pushed those thoughts away. There would be time to settle that later but this night was about them, as she opened her arms wide invitation.

Mommy Monday: Sophie’s Choices

Is the name of the 1982 movie that earned Meryl Streep an Academy Award for Best Actress. It has come to be a slang term for an ‘impossible choice.’ Not a difficult one, we all face those every day. But a truly devastatingly…no one wins choice.

I have been planning this blog for weeks. It is especially poignant for parents because of the story line of the movie. If you have not seen it, let me summarize it for you.

Zofia “Sophie” Zawistowski was a Polish immigrant to New York, who had been forced by the Nazis which of her two children lived…and yes, which died. The movie is about the aftermath of her life after that choice (abusive, co-dependent relationship and ultimately suicide).

Admittedly, few of us as parents will ever face a ‘true’ Sophie’s choice.

But most of us will make several over our times as parents. Too often we will not even realize that we are making them. 

I have spent thirty years…well, twenty-eight…doing my absolute best not to be my mother. You see my mother clearly had a favorite child. And it weren’t me.

As a rational adult, I can dispassionately tell you all the reasons why my younger brother was always her favorite. He looked like her and not a mini-me of the man that abandoned her when she was six months pregnant with a two year old. That struggle set her up to bond with the baby which was some kind of you and me against the world thing. I get all that.

But the one that always bothered me most was…he needs me more than you do. 

You see my baby brother was one of the first children in our small city during the mid-70s to have the label ADHD…Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. He was one of the first to be put on Ritalin too…a Sophie’s choice that she always regretted. She felt that this prescribed zombie/zoned out feeling became a gate-way drug later in his life.

Of course, as with any Sophie’s choice…my mother had no way of knowing the outcome. You can only make the best of a bad lot with what you know at the time. She trusted the doctors…for better or worse.

Sophie too never knew the outcome of her decision. Did the Nazis really kill her daughter? She did not even have the solace of knowing what became of her son. He too may have died…a slower, more painful death of overwork and starvation.

Like I said…all parents make Sophie’s choices. To stay late at work to finish that ‘big’ project and miss your daughter’s dance recital…something to you that made logical sense could disappoint her so much that she felt you do not love her…could lead to alienation as a teen…then my writer’s brain takes over…drug and alcohol abuse…failed relationships…etc. From something that you did not think was significant.

Put in mathematical terms it is the chaos theory…and all parents know that kids = CHAOS. Children are the ultimate “complex system whose behaviour is highly sensitive to slight changes in conditions, so that small alterations can give rise to strikingly great consequences.” (Google definition of chaos theory)

Or the butterfly effect…

Chaos Theory

Over the past decade, I have faced more than one Sophie’s choice as PanKwake’s mom…more than all my other children combined.

But one thing I try my hardest to teach her in those precious rare ‘learning’ moments is personal responsibility. No one ‘makes’ you act a certain way. You always have choices…even if they are sometimes ‘impossible’ ones!

So let me take this opportunity to accept responsibility for some of mine…

To my mother…I am sorry. We may have many, many reasons for the way things turned out between us…but wherever you are just know…I understand now. I may not like it anymore as a mother than I did as a daughter…but I do UNDERSTAND.

To JalerDasBirdz…Unlike that Sophie, Mommy does not believe in allowing choices to consume us with regrets and rob us of life itself. In fact, my favorite poem by Robert Frost is The Road Not Taken. It says…

Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I never made it back…and if I did believe in regrets…that my beloved would be my greatest of them all. You will always be my hardest Sophie’s choice. I hope that one day you can forgive me for that.

To Mere-mere, Mr Stability, Greta, Little Brown Boy and Idiot Savant…I am truly, honestly and deeply sorry. I worked so hard as you all grew up to not be my mother. I know we often joke about who is Mommy’s favorite. I tell you that…I love you all the same and different. And I do.

But as the parents of special needs children must sometimes do…she needed me more. Please know that those are some of the hardest words I have ever said…or perhaps ever will. Facing that truth has been a long journey for me as mother…and daughter.

Know too that I of all people do understand the pain it causes…how unfair it seems that the ‘good’ ones get less attention. I could say that life is not fair…but my heart cries out…IT SHOULD BE!

I cannot even promise you that it will not happen again…it probably will. Hell, we all KNOW that it will. I cannot even say I am sorry…as you will learn like I have…parents simply do the best they can.

But I can say with complete sincerity…I am more sorry than you know that you must share this road with me…that you feel this pain too. I love you and am proud of the men and women that all of you have become.

To my beloved Cookie Monster…I am completely speechless and in awe. As I have told our friends who share this path, we had no choice…autism choose us. Yet you did…and you decided to love us anyway. All I can say is ‘thank you’ and all I can do is my best to make this road as good a journey as possible for us all.

And to my readers…Sophie allowed her choice to rule the rest of her brief life. The other side of that personal responsibility coin that I talked about earlier is…no matter how bad your past decisions have been…each day offers you new ones. You can decide to make better ones…even hard ones.

Life may suck sometimes (too damned often) but love REALLY does make it worth living.



Sewing Sunday: WARNING!

I came to a realization this morning. When it comes to sewing…I may have an addiction. What’s more…I do not know a single friend who sews that does not have the same problem.

So before I get serious about this Sewing Sunday blog and we jump into projects, I just thought I would warn you all…

BEWARE: Sewing, i.e. purchasing and keeping vast quantities of material, laces and sundries may become a serious problem.

When Cookie Monster ask us to move in with him, I made it clear that meant bringing ALL of PanKwake’s multitude of stuff…her collections. But that there was not much of my stuff that I was attached too. EXCEPT my sewing.

This is what came with me…


AND…I actually got in a throw it away mood and gave three large garbage bags to the nursery that PanKwake had attended. THREE bags full!!!

Good news is that I am an organized hoarder…all of that fits nicely under my desk.

But like I said…I do not know a single person who sews that does not have the exact same problem. I have been to friend’s homes where they have a sewing room…and it is still packed full and overflowing.

The problem is…


Once you unleash this demon, you will never look at a piece of cloth, an old torn pair of jeans or a scrap the same. You will see…the potential. The dream. What it can be. That is a hard thing to tame.

When put that way…who wants to?

But it might not be a bad idea to leash the puppy…just a bit. Establish some rules going in…like:

  • No more stuff than I have space.
  • No purchasing something new until have finished one project…or a box if things have gotten out of hand.
  • Go through your stash BEFORE buying something new (oh the number of times I have bought something that I already had).
  • Clean it out and give stuff away…at least once a year. If you have not used it in that time then you are unlikely to.

Just know that once you begin this journey…you will never be the same. You will see a dress in a shop and think…I can do that in this color/pattern. Or that is nice but it would look much better with this kind of sleeve or neckline. You will find a pillow or craft in a store and pick it up…just to see how it was made. The world will become a new creation just waiting for you to sew it…make it.

Remember though there are only 24 hours in your day…7 days in week…and 52 of those in a year. You cannot make more of those…so be as realistic as you can be about what you can accomplish. And keep your hoard to those limits…as much as possible anyway.

I am certainly not there, but then again maybe if I had followed those rules from the beginning I would be?

Good luck…I hope you can master this addiction more than me or my sewing friends.

Sensual Saturday: Say or Show?

I love you!

Which is more important…to say the words or to show them with your actions?

Saying those words is a HUGE leap of faith and commitment. I remember the first time I said them to Cookie Monster. I won’t rehash old stories but you can find it here. Thing is that we were barely two weeks into this journey. It was definitely too soon…or so convention tells me. Thing is neither he nor I are conventional.

But it is not just the first time that is hard. Each and every time you say those words aloud it is a reminder to them…and you of the commitment that you have made to them.

Or it should be. I have been with partners who had no idea the power of those words.  One thought he wasPatrick Swayze in Ghost…

Honestly here…it wasn’t cute when he did. It was a pathetic excuse of manhood…one he had to die to learn the importance of. And that guy sure as heck was no Patrick Swayze.

On the other hand, with another it was like some sing-song, toss-away after-thought. It sounded insincere. So much so that towards the end it was like nails on a blackboard.

On the third hand, unless they are the grandiose actions of Richard Gere in Pretty Woman…

It is way to easy to misinterpret courtesy as something more…or discount love as nothing more friendship (how so many nice guys end up in the friendzone).

But despite the fact that every day I wake up feeling like Cinderella…REAL life is NOT a cheesy movie scene. It is struggles…jobs to be done, food to be cooked, kids to be cared for, finances, relatives, friends…and so much more.

The one thing you do not need is to have to constantly be wondering…does he (she) still love me?

And that takes a bit of everything…the words, hugs, kisses, the small and sometimes even those grandiose acts of love.

  • Breakfast…
  • Cwtch (Welsh for cuddles) to start the day…
  • Forehead kisses…
  • ‘I love you.’…
  • Dinner in the dining room…
  • Nightly (or almost) massages after a hard day…
  • …and making your body available to him/her whenever they have need of comfort or simply release.

Then doing that all over again the next day…and the next…and the day after that…and next week…next month…next year.

It means too remembering that you love them…even when you may not like them. Sounds like another blog in the making.

So this weeks challenge…How many times do you tell her/him that you love them? How do you show it? And please share…