Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

What a difference a week makes

Last night, John and I went to Alex’s birthday party. What a great time! Alex looked adorable in a yellow print dress (complete with matching bow in her hair), white knee socks and black Mary Janes. Several of her friends showed up, we had snacks, birthday cake and ice cream (and See’s candy, which John and I brought), and the evening flew by with lots of talking and laughing. By midnight, several had left, but a core group remained, and we sat in the living room and kept talking until nearly 2:00. I felt completely relaxed and like I belonged there, as I often do with fellow spankos. We went home happy and crashed just before 3:00.

Last weekend, I was at another birthday party, and the experience was completely different. Granted, it wasn’t an adult party; it was a birthday party for a one-year-old (John’s niece’s son). And as far as kids’ parties go, it was a nice one. They went all out with the decorations, had a kiddie pool in the back yard, streamers and toys and bubbles (it made me happy to see that kids still love blowing soap bubbles!). But I felt like a complete misfit from the time I got there.

Everyone there was either a parent or a grandparent (or both). I tried engaging with some of the babies, including the birthday boy, but they didn’t know me and were overwhelmed with all the attention. I didn’t feel like I had anything to say to the people there; everything was baby talk. So, I basically sat and watched the kids play, and surreptitiously checked my phone now and then, being very careful to not let anyone see FetLife on the screen.Β 

Here’s the irony — in a party full of kids and babies, the only mishap was with an adult. John’s brother-in-law’s brother (who is a very nice guy, but has quite a few issues with substances), fell backward on the patio and his hand/arm went through the glass door. He had to be taken to the ER. And John’s sister, as per usual, got sloppy drunk and was maudlin and sappy with John and me when she saw us slow-dancing on the patio to the jazz that was playing in the background. “Youuu twooo are soooo cute!” she slurred. Then she started plying me with compliments. “Thank you for taking such good care of my brother. You’ve been there for him allllll these years and you’re so strong and you’re blah blah blah… I love you both sooooo much.” (Yeah, I thought, I know how much you love your brother. I can still recall one of the first things you ever said to me: “We all think you’re a saint for putting up with him.”)

I was embarrassed and tried to demur, wishing she would just shut up, but she kept going on, insisting that I was the best thing that ever happened to him and he should show me appreciation. “I’m thinking jewelry,” she actually had the nerve to say. John, amused by all this, held up my wrist to show her my watch, the one he gave me four years ago on Valentine’s Day. “What about this?” he asked.

She gave it a cursory glance, made a face and said, “I want to see some diamonds.”

Can you believe the gall? I really had to bite my tongue then, so I wouldn’t say, “First, it’s none of your damn business what he gives me; second, I don’t need diamonds; and third, this watch you just summarily dismissed is a vintage Rolex, for Christ’s sake.” I said nothing. There was a buffet supper, so we stayed to eat and then made our escape. When we got outside, John’s brother-in-law (the letch) was outside saying goodbye to some others — bleah. Was hoping to avoid him. As we stood on the lawn talking, I looked down and noticed that his toenails were painted bright green. What the….?? I couldn’t help it; I blurted, “What’s with your toenails?” He just gave me a look as if to say, “God, you’re so boring and uncool” and said, “What about my toenails?” John, trying to lighten the moment, said, “They match his shirt!” (Which they did.) OK, then. Goodbye, you freakasaurus.

What’s my point? Probably just the same things I keep saying: spankos/kink folks are awesome, and chosen family is the best. Gatherings like last weekend used to make me feel like an antisocial freak, like I couldn’t get along with or relate to anyone. Not the case. I just hadn’t found the right people yet. β™₯ Last night’s party reminded me how I can be when I feel comfortable and accepted.

It’s going to be a long week. Steve has sent me the first picture from his trip, him on his bike in front of Zion National Park. My panties are not in evidence, but it’s not a selfie; clearly, someone else took the shot. So we’ll see what I get later this week. I miss him already.

Hope everyone had a nice weekend.

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10 thoughts on “What a difference a week makes

  1. Maybe I'm just a tad close-minded…but why on earth would there be alcohol and substances at a child's birthday party? I wouldn't be surprised or even question it for that matter if it was an adult's birthday party.

    Anyway, we will get through this long week…hopefully in one piece. πŸ™‚

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  2. I 'd say John is, in various modalities giving you much more than diamonds. πŸ˜‰
    Is that lady spankable?

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  3. Kelly on said:

    I'm a firm believer in surrounding myself with people who truly care about me and vice versa more so than “obligatory” social gatherings. You did great Erica. The toddler party would NOT have been my thing. Since I don't have kids I would have been one of the ones to have a cocktail or two. But good point about why so many of the parents chose to drink it.
    NOTHING is more aggravating to THIS childless person when a parent has said to me or someone else, “HERE! Hold him/her! I have to take care of…”
    Like it's a given me or someone else wants to play makeshift baby sitter.

    Last Sat I was at a family reunion and one really weirdo looking husband of a 3rd cousin actually said to me regarding career path. “What do you DO?”
    I said I was “let go” from my last job. He said, “I think you should find yourself a husband and just stay home!”
    Instead of getting pissed, I laughed very loudly and agreed that would be a GREAT idea.

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  4. Jay — I have never known any gathering at John's sister's house to NOT have alcohol. I agree, it's a bit out of place at a baby's birthday party!

    MrJ — yes, he is.

    Kelly — “find yourself a husband and stay home”? I would have answered, “I think you need to find the 21st century.”

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  5. Brat E. Pants on said:

    I hate parties for little bitties, and I even have a crew of my own. We would throw a little thing for the sake of grandparents, but since my parents arent in the picture for various reasons and his parents apparently arent interested in grandkids until about the time they've graduated high school, we've never fussed much over parties for littles until they're old enough to remember them. Making a big thing out of it for other adults is just…blah.

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  6. Brat E. — I remember going to a kid's birthday party years ago. The parents pulled out all the stops — they had a real train, a petting zoo, a face-painter, and more. The kid was TWO! Like he's going to remember any of that??

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  7. Hi Erica — I am so happy that you and John, had a great time at Alex's birthday πŸ™‚ I Love her dress and matching bow and shoes, I would totally wear them that's so me πŸ™‚ I never heard of having alcohol, at a baby's birthday party either, but like you said, Johns sister always has alcohol at parties, John's sister has a lot of gall UGH,I think you did a WONDERFUL job, keeping your cool, I know that must of been very hard to do I agree spanking parties are more fun πŸ™‚ Green toenails is John's brother in law Boy George or something LOL. Much Love and hugs from naughty girl Jade

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  8. Jade — honestly, I don't know what the hell he is. I've been trying to figure it out for years. πŸ™‚

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  9. I stayed home for 5 years with my kids and I well remember “competitive” birthday party hosting. Not a fond memory. I, however, don't mind when someone passes me their kid to hold. Jon
    PS I'd like to give that “find yourself a hubby” guy about six weeks worth of dirty laundry – you know, the amount that accumulates in two days with kids.

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  10. Jon — normally, I like holding babies, unless they're screaming and struggling. But the last one I held beamed at me, snuggled close and spit up on my chest.

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