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This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Sunday, 3 August 2014

Sick to the Stomach

Yes, of course I would still like to look like that whilst feeling
like that. I don't exactly look good when being guilty. I look,
so say those that know me in person, like a whipped dog. Also
I am drawn to people who, when they see a whipped dog, like
to whip that dog for looking like a whipped dog.

Basically, I am a natural victim. Is that victim-blaming?

I suppose, technically, it is. But only technically.
You know when people say that they are 'sick to the stomach' (as if they could be sick anywhere else in their anatomy) you get the feeling that they are fed up? Well, this is not one of those times. I was going to post exclusively about parenting, as part of my tortuous return to the topic that caused the week long black out on here. Instead, I opened my Joanna e-mail to find a message waiting for me telling me to "get lost". Which was... unexpected. However, given who it turned out to be from, not entirely unmerited. This was that Domme I was posting about in here a month or so ago. I expect she got sick of waiting for me to get round to responding and, in fairness, I had forgotten that she was waiting for one from me. I suppose I should have done the decent thing and said that I was not planning to go ahead but I did, honestly, forget. It says something about me, I feel, that I have a sick feeling in my stomach that my inability to be polite has led to someone else feeling angry. I hate that feeling, that guilt wrapped in matyrdom wrapped in numbing inevitability mixed with self-flagellation. Lovely, a good way to enter the evening.

That's me, but with a laptop.
Parenting. Sometimes I post about it and sometimes I don't. And, sometimes, I've had a beer and don't care. This is one of those times. See, we lack consistency. Since I broke up for the holidays I have been an observer, pretty much, there was the evening going to see the Pet Shop Boys (still an awesome Prom) and then there was the lazy day afterwards, then there was the weekend of preparation and then there was a guest. On the Monday, ish, I got more work to do (and it pays very well by the by) and so I have had the mornings and the evenings to try and rake in some extra cash that is not for anything in particular (I may have managed a couple of grand, we'll see how that holds out when I take the car in for the MOT). In that time Tilly has taken most of the share of childcare and I have had the ability to watch. On an evening, as a I try to get the Boy to sleep, I hear her deal with the Girlie too.

I was once described as "besotted" with my daughter
but that was before the birth of the Boy.

I suspect part of my devotion to both children has been
a response to the lack of anything intimate in my
relationship with Tilly.

I know that alcohol doesn't do anything to my behaviour or
mood, but isn't it strange how I can use a small amount to
bring out a little more honesty?
Firstly, there is the fact that the Boy is my 'favourite'. This is in part down to the fact that I have chosen him and mostly down to the fact that I have been able to have him choose me. I've explained before that when the Girlie was born I was largely pushed away from taking an active and full role in her parenting due to the circumstance and the context of her birth. In those crucial first hours when Tilly was feeling alone and vulnerable I was not there. Given Tilly's own issues with anxiety and control she thus defaulted to the feeling that she, and she alone, could deal with the child and no one else was to intervene. I, for my part, am fiercely protective and thus defended and protected her right to be so with our first child. I remember having a conversation with my mother, that got rather stormy, in which I said that if my wife wished to wear the child 24/7 then I would fully support her doing so (I must stress that we were not baby-wearing or co-sleeping at this stage). In fact, the reason we didn't do this was Tilly and her own lack of confidence - her belief that doing so would kill our child. In contrast, when the Boy was born at home I was able to look after him and aid Tilly with the afterbirth. Thus, in those key early hours post birth I was present and able to take a role in the parenting and the difference was huge.

Therefore, the Boy and I are very much more connected than the Girlie and I and that, in large part, explains why he is my 'favourite' of the children. He and I have something of an understanding. Thus, when my father waxed lyrical about his problems with the fact that the Boy was 4 and not yet potty-trained I did not stress out. I had planned that I would begin the potty-training, such as it can be called that, this summer and, guess what, it's mostly been successful. No trauma, few accidents, and generally a feeling from the Boy of confidence and familiarity. If the Boy has an opportunity to feel insecure and anxious he will not only take it, but revel in it and reject that which brings the feeling. So, with things such as food and potty-training I am very much aware of the fact that if there is wrong step he will dig in his heels and nothing will get done. For example, with the Girlie my wife and I insisted on the use of "please" and "thank you" over her wishes and mores. She now uses these terms correctly. With the Boy we naturally tried the same approach. But he was not compliant and the more we pushed the more he refused. Now he refuses to use either phrase, though we have reached a compromise whereby he will ask for things with "peas" rather than "please" and, yes, he knows and enunciates the difference. He still refuses to say "thank you", usually by claiming that "my not say those words!" or "my not have those words". This implies that he can actually say them but a sense of stubbornness prevents him from using them.

Well, duh.

As you can see, consistency is vital in both cases but each must be treated subtly differently in order for the directives to have the desired effect. What I have noticed in my observations is that Tilly is very like her parents, she has got her father's pointless strictness and her mother's tendency to cave in at the slightest provocation. Given that some of her edicts are already indefensible this means that she caves regularly and makes pointless threats pretty regularly. For my part, I am poor at talking and engaging with the children. I get distant, I am apt to get frustrated (and show my frustration to the children) and I am prone to being very mean when the situation gets too much for me. I will be sarcastic, hurtful, threatening and scary to make known my feelings on a matter and, like my father, I can be inflexible on things that I ought to be more flexible on. Also, Tilly and I clash on how much freedom our children should be allowed. Mostly I bow to her lead on this, she's with them most of the time, and I happen to agree with the theories that she is trying to put into operation and recognise my own inability to accurately and adequately enact them.

So it is that we have spoken about the lack of consistency we show to our children, how much they are prone to break and not respect their own property (still more than other children I have observed, but still too much for my own sensibilities). And I pointed out the lack of consistency from my wife. She has concurred and that is something else to work on.

Kinda like this, I guess.

You know, I can't find images of children
interrupting parents' conversing...
Neither of our children like us talking with each other. The Girlie will deliberately interrupt (and Tilly will then spend about five to ten minutes explaining why interrupting she and I talking is bad before asking her waht she wants - not really giving a consistent message there - to the point where I will automatically shut up when our daughter speaks) and the Boy will simply glower and pout if we are together too much. No, seriously. Both of them have responded badly to us hugging and do not like to see us kiss. Why? Well, I suspect that it is a break from their routine. As Tilly and I do try to rebuild the physical side of our relationship, at least I think we're trying, we will see the effects that not having had any physicality for the best part of five years or more have had on our children and family life. A detente is one thing, actually making a difference is quite another.

Now, take the initial guilt and bad feeling that I felt from a complete stranger telling me to "get lost bitch" (kind of her to use a female slur) and apply that to the situation with our children and you see my own difficulties in making a change. Take the anxiety of the Boy and realise that it comes from Tilly and you begin to see the size of the task before us. And also why things take so long and have yet to make a real positive difference. It might also explain why we are in a sexless marriage and why this is likely to continue for some time yet despite the break, for guilt(?), in January this year. We've hit seven months without anything sexual, a week with kissing being part of any routine at all (and even then we can go a day or two without) and almost seven years since we actually had what most people would consider normal sexual relations. We have a mountain to climb.

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All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!