Confident Midlife Crossroads for Adults

This Christmas was peaceful, silent and consequently wonderful. It was 6pm on Christmas Eve when I eventually got ready for the celebration. Just in time with my impatient kids and — incredibly — hubby was done writing about the same time, bit ahead of me. This is a seldom occurrence. But who drove out, before sunrise, for the last shopping challenge, to bring home the goodies that I forgot to mention on his lists of Friday, Saturday AND Sunday? Yes, you guessed right, it was hubby, minutes after he exited his body companion from playing inside my wet intimate pubic hide, he jumped in the car to execute my last dispositions. Later on in the day, when kids descended to the living, he helped them some with decorating the tree — not much, just with the lights and wires — before taking a bath, having a new idea in there and rushing out to the laptop to write it down.

We always open the Christmas Eve “party” after 6pm with distributing the presents among us. As the mom-in-control that I am (or that I’d like to be), I open the event with a speech (that I thoroughly prepared in the bath tub) while our greatest gathers the seconds inside the camera. Ensues an hour-long movie with my appreciations for each member of the family, with close-ups of every package being unwrapped (and me telling them not to rip that color paper too much because I could reuse it on other packages during the new year), with happy faces and shrieks of surprise (when the little ones almost exhaust their resources of patience while unpacking bigger boxes that contain something expected, but less interesting for them, along with a smaller box, only to discover inside the third or fourth smaller box what they actually wished for, asked for and were denied in all deception by us, on disciplinary grounds) and, of course, the Simpsonian grimaces of hubby and our son — they wonder why do I wish to look so serious in movies and pictures? From time to time, I ask myself the same question. What counts, however, is that the next day, right after returning from church and before lunch, when we run the evening movie on the TV, I like how I look and find myself bit more frugal than I wished to sound, and act.

The second day of Christmas, hubby drove me and the little ones to visit mom, which was a marvelous surprise, for me and for her. The other surprise he made me was scattered a week before by the mailman. He delivered me (hubby had to run an errand) a lovely Jugendstil silver necklace with a garnet stone. On his ebay quest, he didn’t knew what kind of earrings to assort it with so I had to fix that yesterday when I picked a pair at a downtown jewelry and he paid for them (the way he always does). Hey! Don’t you imagine that they were expensive. Gold is expensive! This is why he ordered silver in the first place…

Retrospective of 2012

Before presenting you my list of resolutions for 2013, I find it fair to make a review of 2012. Will do my best to keep it short because, you know, maybe you gotta bake some pumpkin cakes or prepare — for Sylvester’s Eve — some beef forcemeat rolls in cabbage leaves, and our family version of beef Stroganoff schnitzel, like I do…

January: outworn by pushing the twins to learn for their gymnasium admission.

February: exhausted by nursing one of the twins after an accident at his ankle temporarily impaired his walking abilities.

March: physically jaded by the event in February, adding spring asthenia to it.

April: my boy fully recovers but the taxing months before have led to a panic attack, on me; confusing it with a heart attack, hubby takes me to the ER where, after thorough tests, we learn the diagnosis: panic attack caused by burn-out. The docs send me to a psychiatric check. The hubby smiles at them, telling me in private that IF we’re listening to the docs, THEN I’ll get really crazy, BECAUSE they will intoxicate my system with their experimental and very dangerous chemicals. I follow my hubby, like I usually do.

May: following his psychological recipe, I’m proclaimed his Domina in bed so I can finally have a “slave” that will listen to me unconditionally; enough for me to speak ONCE and he will obey, totally opposite to what the kids are doing to me.

June: hubby’s Hegelian approach brings me back from panic-land in natural and pleasant ways; no system insanities, no psychotropic drugs (BTW, I’ve read that the psychopaths in the regrettable school shooting tragedies were all on drugs prescribed by the medical system) and no doctors depression, just more love and more sex –with me on top– to allow me all the extroverting I can handle. To the end of June I am confident enough to have my naked pictures first time published on a world-wide renown adult site. I feel good about that!

July: I begin the writing at my first erotic romance novella. Having to corroborate my fantasies with the quirky physics from hubby’s mind in order to create an interesting story — that thing (the science fiction line) gave me mild headaches, but I survived.

August: Paypal won’t let me sell under my “doing business as” pen name so I switch to Epoch; this necessary move officially opens a new life for me, a parallel and thrilling one; like Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde, I alternate between the exigent mother and an avid cougar bunny when no kids around.

September: school begins and the ghosts of fear return with new concerns for my kids’ education process; at least now I have my “secret” universe where I can retreat to command my obeying sexual slave: hubby! The feeling is just AMAZING!

October: the other twin breaks her arm, darn…

November: I pray the Lord to help me miraculously pour MATHS right inside my son’s head; the tormented mom in me longs for the cougar moments.

December: with second twin fully physically recovered, hubby suggests I institute a red dot / black dot reward and penalty system on the twins at home; I stick calendar panels on their doors; I bribe them for good deeds and indebt them for bad ones; IT WORKS!

Wish I had finished my second erotic ebook by now. Time is an asset that I get on shortage, no wonder my hubby tells me that time is an illusion. It’s a pain in the ass when you don’t have it and maybe a debilitating boredom when you have it too much. I don’t know because I can’t remember the last time when I was bored. You may jump and ask “how about this Christmas?” Yes, I took my days off, although not from mothering, but when receiving more massages and more lingual orgasms than fucks, this I call intense relaxing and has nothing to do with boredom.

Tomorrow I’ll ramble some more about fellatio, colloquially known as blow job, and cunnilingus, that is when he eats my pussy. I know that the man in you, my reader, is drooling already…


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