Xmas Haul
From Monsieur, I got stuff that I didn’t know I said I wanted but must have muttered it under my breath, because I did want it:
Jewels!
- a purple – no, royal crimson – bathrobe
- pajamas
- a pearl necklace (oh grow UP!! I mean jewelry) and another of emerald – my birthstone
From the boys:
- Parachutes CD, Coldplay – oh, quit laughing at me. I like Coldplay.
- Yellow Submarine, the movie – I mentioned once that I had never seen it, and of course the Two Bigglest Boys were shocked, dumbfounded, and wondered how I could call myself a civilized human being with such an obvious gap in my education.
From my mom & dad:
- The Joy of Cooking
- The Sedgwick County Ag Extension Cookbook
(I think they’re just trying to help) - T-shirts, skirts, gift certificate for shoes
Still no yum-yum yet. I got a phone number with my tip the other day at work, from a cutie guy, kinda looked like John Corbett from Sex and the City / My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Only cuter. The phone number sits in a pile of scrap paper on a dresser upstairs. Yearn, yearn, yearn.
John Corbett, not the guy who gave me his number.
In other news … Monsieur apologized for being a pooh-pooh head (see earlier post), although he didn’t actually say it that way.
“[Yearning Heart], I am sorry I was so abrupt with you the other night.”
I acted as if I didn’t remember. “The other night?”
“You remember, of course you do. The children were not ready for bed, and were becoming rowdy and misbehaved.”
“Oh yes, well. As to that, I understand your anger, Monsieur.”
“I am glad that you so understand. My temper has been short of late, and I am truly contrite.”
“I accept, Monsieur, and I will try to be more firm with the children, and I hope that you will tell me when something is not to your liking. But please, in the future, do not do it in front of the boys?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“I love you, Monsieur, and I hope that if you ever have the need to punish me you shall do it in private, in the proper way.”
“‘In the proper way’?”
“Yes, Monsieur.” I unbuckled his belt, sliding it off of his pants and removing it. I handed it to him, then turned around, bent over with my hands on my knees and pointed my bottom at him.[1] “The proper way,” I repeated.
He made a noise in his throat. “I have no wish to hurt you,” he whispered softly.
“I know, Monsieur. One or two won’t hurt; they may clear the air between us and possibly make our lives much easier.”
“I don’t spank my children; why would you think I would spank you?”
“Just one, Monsieur, and not on my bare bottom. Please. You’ll feel better, and so will I.”
He did, and not as hard as he could have.
(Ouch.)
He put his belt back on, and asked me if I felt better.
“Yes, Monsieur.”
[1] Thanks to Amber, for the suggestion.