Family - you gotta love ´em!
With the not anymore ´Me´... but with a ´We´and a Mr. T, the living arrangements has also changed.
Each night has become a survival of the fittest to be able to not having to sleep on the floor but in the comfort of your own bed.
During his 6 weeks in Dublin town, Mr. T has reminded me of my place as his bitch and I have accepted the fact that I´m absolutely and totally his bitch.
I really thought I was the stricter "parent"... - "No, you can´t lie here", -"You lay there", - "I´M sleeping here"... This is what I should be saying, but instead I am now Tetris-ing myself around a 35x35 cm little flea every night to, Santa forbid, spare him the discomfort of waking up or having to move an inch at any given direction in a bed fit for 3 people.
So, getting out of the darn thing after the logistics are somewhat in order, is something one must consider absolutely necessary to be worth while (Hello, Tena adult diaper!)
Finding a sleeping position that will not curl your spine or stop your blood flow is just the start of the night. As a mother hen to this elderly tip toeing little cockroach, I am also his very own, personal heat regulator.
It is a very pinscher obsession having to sleep under the cover, blanket, jacket, towel... whatever is lying around, really.
Having a made bed is no longer a thing. When nap time comes, Mr. T becomes Mr. Mole and with that the danger of over heating and being sat on.
My ´He´, a.k.a "The dude" is having some difficulties with the latter... just having yourself a seat anywhere you please is no longer easy peasy lemon squeezy... you need to go hump watching in the vicinity of where you are planning on planting your tuchus, or you might just end up in the slammer for involuntary dog slaughter.
As the mother hen I am and have become, I have my hump-creating baby boy on a built in radar... like I have with spiders... I don´t even need to see the buggers to know they are there.
This super power of mine becomes handy when working as the heat regulator.
During the course of a night T-bomb will swap positions about eleventy onty one MILLION times... Under the covers, on top of the covers, under the covers, on top of the covers, depending on if the little snake is too warm or too cold.
If our little rat can´t get under himself, he will push you with his little nacho smelling paw until you lift the covers up for him.
So in order for me to not get sleep deprivation, my body has gradually learned to do this in my sleep...
The dude however, has yet not succumbed to this sort of mind fucking and simply will not have it... He is safe... for now.
Yes, family - you gotta love ´em!
Each night has become a survival of the fittest to be able to not having to sleep on the floor but in the comfort of your own bed.
During his 6 weeks in Dublin town, Mr. T has reminded me of my place as his bitch and I have accepted the fact that I´m absolutely and totally his bitch.
I really thought I was the stricter "parent"... - "No, you can´t lie here", -"You lay there", - "I´M sleeping here"... This is what I should be saying, but instead I am now Tetris-ing myself around a 35x35 cm little flea every night to, Santa forbid, spare him the discomfort of waking up or having to move an inch at any given direction in a bed fit for 3 people.
So, getting out of the darn thing after the logistics are somewhat in order, is something one must consider absolutely necessary to be worth while (Hello, Tena adult diaper!)
Finding a sleeping position that will not curl your spine or stop your blood flow is just the start of the night. As a mother hen to this elderly tip toeing little cockroach, I am also his very own, personal heat regulator.
It is a very pinscher obsession having to sleep under the cover, blanket, jacket, towel... whatever is lying around, really.
Having a made bed is no longer a thing. When nap time comes, Mr. T becomes Mr. Mole and with that the danger of over heating and being sat on.
My ´He´, a.k.a "The dude" is having some difficulties with the latter... just having yourself a seat anywhere you please is no longer easy peasy lemon squeezy... you need to go hump watching in the vicinity of where you are planning on planting your tuchus, or you might just end up in the slammer for involuntary dog slaughter.
As the mother hen I am and have become, I have my hump-creating baby boy on a built in radar... like I have with spiders... I don´t even need to see the buggers to know they are there.
This super power of mine becomes handy when working as the heat regulator.
During the course of a night T-bomb will swap positions about eleventy onty one MILLION times... Under the covers, on top of the covers, under the covers, on top of the covers, depending on if the little snake is too warm or too cold.
If our little rat can´t get under himself, he will push you with his little nacho smelling paw until you lift the covers up for him.
So in order for me to not get sleep deprivation, my body has gradually learned to do this in my sleep...
The dude however, has yet not succumbed to this sort of mind fucking and simply will not have it... He is safe... for now.
Yes, this little hump of love can turn up wherever and
whenever… The other week, me and the dude were sitting next to each other, binge
watching Pawn Stars on Sky, when a feeling of tender affection came over him.
To show me his endearment, he moved his hand under the
blanket we were sharing together, to softly caress my bum.
He turned his head towards me and smiled the anticipating
smile of – “can you feel the touch of löööve I got going on here?”
When I did not give him the responding smile of appreciation
back, he stopped himself, lifted the blanket up to see that the bum he had been
fondling, was not mine.
Yes, family - you gotta love ´em!
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