What We Have Here... Is a Failure to Communicate.

Poor communication is the most common complaint (as stated by 68 per cent of couples seeking counseling). Apparently, the average couple talk for only five minutes per day! Yet communication is the most important aspect of a relationship.  It's most commonly a complaint that woman has about their men, and in my parent's marriage, my father is the one who has difficulty keeping the lines of communication open. He plays his cards close to the vest, and believes that when in doubt it's best to say nothing. Dad's in doubt a lot.

And I am my father's daughter.

I'm the one who can't seem to be the instigator and cultivator of effective communication. It took me several years to get my husband to the point where he now understands that my inability to communicate my thoughts, desires, pains, weaknesses, hopes, etc, are not a result of being dispassionate or disinterested. Indeed, I communicate in non verbal ways that over the years he has learned to read like an open book. He's memorized every nuance of my body language, and has become content in his connective familiarity.

But there's one thing he has not let go of, and that is my forgetfulness to remain in touch with him throughout the day. "I'm always reaching out to you," he says.  "I need to know that you're thinking about me and seeking me out."

So after the incident where I disappeared without my cell phone, and he spent the day worrying, he put his foot down.

"You have a new daily task," he declared. "From now on, until July 1st, between the hours of 11:00 am and 2:00 pm, you are to get in contact with me." This is not a punishment. He wants to instill a new habit in me, and the best way to start a new habit is repetition. But the word task? That suggests that failure to complete the assignment would result in consequences to my backside.

But how hard can it be, right? It's not like I'm so busy that I can't find a few moments to contact the man I love.

The first couple of days were a breeze, and I was enjoying taking a moment out of my day to chat with him.  I could call him, or text him on his Blackberry, or Instant message him on the computer.  All I have to do is make the initial contact, and conversing with him is always a pleasure.

The third day, I found myself losing focus as I went about an increasingly busy day. I looked up at the clock to find it was 2:02, and I had yet to contact BabyMan. I ran to the phone, dialed his office, waited for the receptionist to announce my call, and by the time he picked up it was 2:05.

"HI BABY!" I yelled nervously into the receiver.

"You're late." he chuckled.

Damn!

When he got home, he immediately grabbed my shoulders from behind, propelled me to the kitchen where he pointed to a crock filled with wooden cooking and serving utensils.

"Pick a pervertable" he said.

Pervertable. His new favorite word he learned from Sara referring to common things around the house that can be converted into an implement of punishment.

My jaw dropped. "Are you kidding?"

"Not at all. You're going to get one swat for every minute you were late."

I smiled. Okay... I'll play along. I reached for the wooden meat tenderizer and handed it to him. He wouldn't dare spank me with that.

He took it, considered it for a moment, and shrugged. "Okay," he said. "Bare your butt and bend over the counter."

"Are you crazy, you're not actually going to..."

"You picked it. Not you gotta live with it."

I gave him my best you've-lost-your-mind face, turned around and dropped my pants and panties. I felt him put a hand on my back and bend me over until my stomach lay on the cold marble counter. He then proceeded to tenderize my meat with the five promised strokes.

Now this wasn't such a big deal. BabyMan knew I would have a bit of trouble with this particular task simply because I'm admittedly disorganized and a bit careless, and things that were are important and urgent often take a back burner to distractions... a symptom of ADD as a child that I never really grew out of.

The next time I forgot to contact BabyMan in my 3 hour window was less than a week later. I was visiting my mother, and completely lost track of the time. At 2:30 I jumped up and ran to her phone and dialed frantically. Again I yelled a panicky "HI BABY!" into the receiver.

"Hello," he said cheerfully.

Good. He's in a good mood. Maybe he didn't notice what time it is. Maybe if I don't bring it up...

"I see we'll have to discuss a few things when I get home."

Damn!

I looked over at my mother, curiously observing the nervous smile plastered on my face, clueless to the fact that her son-in-law was about to paddle the daylights out of her precious little girl.

He didn't want to spank me. I get that. As often as he does it, one would wonder... but I believe it's really not his idea of a fun Friday night.

"You know, you don't have to spank me," I say as I follow him into the bedroom and watch him choose a paddle from the array we have hanging on a hook by the door.

"Believe me, I don't want to," he says.

"You don't want to... I don't want you to... If you don't spank me, it's a win-win situation!"

He wasn't in the mood for levity. "Bend over your dresser."

My dresser is the one with the huge mirror attached to it. He wanted me to watch my own spanking in progress as well as the look on my face.

He lifted my skirt, pulled down my panties and paddled me long and hard as I watched my face turn from annoyed to fearful to to saddened, to pained. The lecture this time wasn't about disobedience. It was about his genuine hurt that I didn't go out of my way to seek him out and connect with him. I think my tears had less to do with my physical pain, and more to do with the fact that I caused his emotional pain.

I am still so desperately trying to remember how important this task is to him every day. I don't want to disappoint him again. I only hope he understands that my forgetfulness and lack of attention are not a result of indifference.

While I've been sitting here for the last 40 minutes or so, The instant messaging window opened, and BabyMan greeted me on the computer. I haven't spoken to him since 9:00 this morning. It is now 2:06.

Damn!