Monday, 15 February 2010
Motherhood, the final frontier .... and Madness
It's day 1 of the mid term break in my house and already the sandbags are out and there is a very definite no man's land down the middle. Of course it doesn't help that my shoulder is killing me and making me grumpy. The cats have declared unilateral independence from the central unit and are spending most of their time on the window ledge looking out at people scurrying about.
What has caused the latest in a long line of tense stand offs ? Bed time, that's what. My little darling would rather jump from Erskine bridge than actually admit defeat and go to sleep. We have the usual list of excuses ;
- I'm hungry
- I'm cold
- I'm sure I heard something in the wardrobe
- The cats were fighting and woke me up
- There's a scary shadow on the wall
- The neds downstairs are too loud
- I have a pain in my tummy /head / leg / finger
...on and on ad infinitum.
The other evening I brought out the infantry and told her "Right, that's it, no treats whatsoever until you behave." This has had minimal effect since she has her own cash from her birthday and took great delight today in showing me the proceeds of her visit to the corner shop, before flouncing off into her room. My temples were starting to throb.
So I brought out my tanks, air support and covert missionaries all at once.
"I'm starting a behaviour diary where I'm going to record your bedtimes together with the list of excuses. It is going to be emailed to Grandma once a week and further, I will bring it for discussion to the parent's evening at school."
She retreated to her bunker for a while to think that through and lo and behold, in the abscence of an effective counter offensive, she is sleeping.
Coming up with new and more effective ways to achieve my aims is very much akin to my work as a dominatrix too. Just before Christmas, my slave bitch and I embarked on an enforced shopping trip. You may wonder what in God's name I mean by that so I'll explain. I was given a monetary limit and my job was to humiliate him as much as I could within the constraints of public decency.
I frog marched him to Ann Summers and chose some nice lingerie. If I have one major fault, it's that I do love to shock, and this was the perfect opportunity. We approached the till and he was faffing about with his wallet and holding up the queue. I barked at him, "Get a move on, I haven't got all bloody day."
The sales assistant was somewhat amused and raised an eyebrow but quickly returned to the wrapping process. I could see I was going to have to up my game. So I wailed to her;
"You just can't get the staff these days, can you ?"
"Erm, no, I suppose not."
With that I produced my tawse from my handbag and looking menancingly at my slave, I cracked it over the palm of my hand. I lowered my voice and growled ...
" Get a move on and pay the lady unless you want to feel this leather across your arse, right here and now, in the middle of this shop."
The look on the assistant's face was absolutely priceless, all at once she realised that -
A ) I was serious and..
B ) that I am actually a dominatrix and the trembling wreck beside me is one of my clients.
I'm sure she couldn't wait for us to leave, not least because of her own embarrasment and also so she could tell her colleagues what she had just witnessed. As for us, well we barely made it around the corner before collapsing into fits of giggles, before I composed myself and dragged him into John Lewis in the Buchanan Galleries for round two.
You really couldn't make it up, getting paid to be an obnoxious bitch, it's the stuff of dreams.