When Do I Get My Spanko Card?

In my vast internet travels of the past few months as a blogger, I have met and conversed with several women who are seeking discipline and accountability from their significant others. I had never really considered myself a "spanko," because I desperately sought alternatives to punishment spankings.  They hurt. Okay... being held accountable for my poor choices, or lack of respect makes a certain amount of sense, but I constantly find myself torn between wanting a quick get-it-over-with spanking for my infractions, and the don't-speak-to-me-for-three-days method of resolving the anger and resentment. I appreciate the expediency of punishment spanking in my marriage,  but the latter choice is more conducive to a happy, healthy backside.

So last Thursday I met a neighbor in the laundry room and we begin to talk about how we'd been hibernating all winter, and hadn't seen each other. She graciously invites me to hang out with her on her boat docked in the harbor of Lake Michigan. We'd get some sandwiches, bring our laptops for the free wifi, catch up on the gossip, just a girl's afternoon. I jumped at the change of pace, and after my morning workout, I left with her... without my cell phone.

Little did I know that my mother, who I had made a tentative appointment with for that same afternoon, was calling my home phone and my cell phone to no avail. She then called my husband at his office in a panic, apparently convincing him that I may have slipped in the shower, cracked my head open on the faucet, and was slowly bleeding to death.

Now BabyMan is not normally reactionary, but after a while his imagination began to run amok. He began calling and texting me, envisioning the life draining from my body as I hover between the porcelain of the tub and the light at the end of the tunnel.

My neighbor and I returned to our building about 20 minutes before BabyMan was due to walk in, and I noticed that my cell phone was hooked up to the charger where I had inadvertently left it all day. In checking it, I found numerous missed calls and texts. Suddenly it rang.

"Hello?"

"Where have you been?" His voice was curt, strained.

"Hi Baby. I spent the afternoon with Dianne from next door. You been looking for me?"

"I'm glad you're alright," he said. His tone made me nervous. "Your mother's been looking for you all day. Call her."

*Click*

He hung up on me. He's never done that before. I bit my lip, called my mother, and convinced her that I was indeed still in the realm of the living.

When BabyMan arrived a few minutes later, I knew he was pissed because I was unreachable all day. I didn't have my cell phone with me, and I never made an attempt to call him using my friend's phone. It never crossed my mind that I had scared my loved ones, and I didn't even realize that my phone wasn't in my purse all afternoon. I was contrite and apologetic when he walked in the door, but he started to do something that I hadn't seen him do in months. He started to yell... and yell... and yell!

"What the hell is the matter with you? Have you lost your mind? Do you know your mother's been terrified all day? She called me at work and scared the hell out of me. Where did you go? Why didn't you have your phone with you? Why didn't you call me to tell me you had deviated from your regular day? How dare you treat everyone like this? I didn't know if I'd find your body when I came home! I'm thinking my life is over because you might be dead!"

The diatribe seemed to go on forever. My neighbor is on the other side of our living room wall, and I'm sure she can hear everything. BabyMan's not just scolding, he's shouting at the top of his lungs, and I'm beginning to feel about 3 inches tall.

I couldn't argue. He was right. I forgot my cell phone, I forgot my mother, and I told no one where I'd be in case something happened to me. I was thoughtless, inconsiderate, and stupid.

If someone out there in SpankoLand is responsible for issuing the official spanko cards, now would be a good time to knock on my door. Normally I relish the idea of knowing damned well that I deserve a spanking, and getting away with it. If BabyMan conveniently forgets that I have one coming, or suddenly decides that the offense isn't worth the severity of a spanking, then I'm in heaven. Once I hear the words, "get the paddle and meet me in the den," I'm scanning the hard drive in my brain for something I can say to get me out of it. Sometimes I come up blank. sometimes I grasp at straws so ridiculous and pathetic that the words that come out of my mouth would cause me to laugh were the situation not so tense. On one occasion I've even offered to bribe him with cash not to spank me. I've always maintained that there's nothing worse than the pain and humiliation of being bare-assed, up-ended, lectured and paddled to screaming tears.

Until now.

Now I know that there's something worse. Being yelled at and then giving each other the cold shoulder for hours or days is probably the worst feeling I have experienced in my marriage. Thanks to our commitment to Domestic Discipline, this hasn't happened in months. And now it happened again. I kept thinking to myself When the hell is he going to stop yelling and spank me already so we can get on with our lives?

But it never happened. As the volume of his voice rose and the F-Bombs flew, I shrank another foot and a half, and simply waited for the earth to open and swallow me up.

The final punishment for disappearing all day with no communication was more sever than I ever imagined. There was a disconnect between us where we barely spoke for almost 2 days. He was furious with me, and I resented him for hanging on to his anger. Had he paddled me, we would have been wrapped in each other's arms in a matter of minutes.

Now, days later, we've made up, apologized, and both promised to handle things differently in the future. And in my humble and reluctant admission that I would have rather been spanked, BabyMan smiled and said "Congratulations! You're officially a spanko. I'm sure you'll get your card in the mail any day now."

While lying in bed this morning BabyMan mentioned that he 's been asked to preach at a friend's ministry across town next Tuesday, and that the subject of the assigned message is the Difference Between Happiness, and Joy in the Lord.

I thought for a moment, and then asked him "What is the difference?"

"Well," he said. "When I spank your ass, you're not happy at all. But there's an underlying joy in the Lord that shines through."

I think I hid my smile pretty well.  "Very funny," I said.