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Surrendering Control

Two professional women: both married with kids and both juggling clients, reports, potty training, packed lunches, chores, dogs, cats, errands, husbands and …”what was that you said? SEX?”
That three-letter word that once was so frequent, so liberating, so yummy has been sidelined in a sea of life, work and snot.
It is time.
Time to put sex back on a pedestal by injecting some extra spice into our relationships.

Surrendering Control

After last week’s frustrating strike out, I was ready to tackle this week’s mission full force, partially because the first portion would safely require only my participation. Mr. Lee (who did eventually get the yard done, fold the laundry and get to third while fulfilling this week’s mission), willingly went to three stores on Monday looking to buy the book for me. He came home bothered by the woman at Half Price Books who laughed in his face for requesting Fifty Shades of Grey, only to find it was out of stock. He earned some redemption for that one.

Maybe there’s a poster for my wall!!!

Instead, I headed out on Tuesday to pick it up at Barnes & Noble, which not only offered the trilogy, but also placed it next to a fascinating magazine “extra”, which I also purchased. With all three little Lees in tow, I welcomed my look into Anastasia Steele’s life appropriately enough by slipping on the curb in the parking lot and laying myself out on the ground in full view of a handful of Starbucks patrons enjoying Texas’ beautiful fall weather.

The week was busy, however, as I did my usual scrambling to get the kids shuttled and to get my work done, while Mr. Lee carried much of last week’s bad attitude into this one. Still frustrated that he made me miss my homework, I tried to be patient. Come Thursday night, we had a rare evening soccer game for the kindegartener, who also started homework this week. Mr. Lee does not believe in “they’re just tired” when it comes to children being off (though it is the only reason for anything that happens in Mr. Lee’s life), so he jumped on Lee 1 more than I thought was reasonable after a mediocre performance on the field, which set me off.

One of the issues Mr. Lee voiced in the discussion that ensued was my need to control everything. I don’t see it so much as the “Christian Grey requires a personal trainer” controlling as much as “Christian Grey needs to make hard decisions to keep Grey Enterprises profitable” controlling. I’m controlling because if I don’t control things, then things won’t get done (like when I did back off come Friday and Mr. Lee forgot to pick-up Lee 1 at school – thank you for making my point, Universe).

Finally on Friday, I was ready to get through the book like a high school sophomore who has put off reading Tess of the D’urbevilles until the night before the exam. This was honestly the example I thought of from my own life BEFORE seeing the references to Thomas Hardy’s novel, which I still haven’t read (I was really good at faking readings in writing essays for Mrs. Phillips’ class, so I still passed the test). So, I scrambled to read through a busy weekend, abandoning housework on Saturday as the children plus one (my nephew) spilled cheeseballs on the living room floor, made a fort on the bottom bunk and scattered Legos in every room of the house. Instead, I invoked my inner Ana, made some tea (Celestial Seasonings peppermint) and sat at my breakfast table (check out my recent Annie Sloan Chalk Paint versailles green paint job).

It took me a bit to get hooked, but like a moth to the flame, or a 2009 and pregnant Miss Lee to a Twilight novel, I charged through to page 186, where I currently am. She’s still reviewing the contract and emailing him coyly, but has had herself one tasty night of debauchery. I’ll save any literary input from this English minor, but did wonder whether all women would see their sex lives changed if they read a book categorized as “Erotic Romance.” I mean, is it just EL James (who I also saw interviewed on Katie Couric’s new show on Monday), or would any romance novel do? I remember being turned on when Bruce Patman undid Jessica Wakefield’s bikini top in book five of the Sweet Valley High series – Francine Pascal wrote something about her “breasts floating on the water” – it was worthy of scandal talk among my middle school friends for weeks.

After reading on Saturday night, I sexted Mr. Lee a line from the book as he was off fighting bad guys. He quickly sent back a note saying, “Stop reading.”

Then it was Sunday, and both my reading and doing time were running out. Mr. Lee was ready to go back to bed for his two hours before the Sunday night shift. Two little Lees were still awake, and already clean. Blast! Instead, I turned on the TV as we stole away to the bedroom, where we shut the door to enjoy our Navajo White Room of Pain.

He asked me what he was supposed to do as I was picking out a tie from his meager collection, and I started telling him. He immediately asked, “Why not handcuffs?”

Aaaaaand, action. He pulled a pair off his police belt, I put on a garder belt (the one from Zone d’Erotica), and he Christian Greyed me with lovely results.

Afterwards, I suggested he can’t call me a control freak anymore since I had submitted so easily with the appropriate “Pleases,” to which he replied, “You told me what I was supposed to do.”

Oh yeah.


  1. […] assigned to read The Odyssey in Mrs. Fort’s freshman English class. Like Tess of the d’Urbevilles the following year, I didn’t. That is, until I realized I had to turn in an assignment that […]

  2. […] though I’ve succeeded in getting him to do many things he wouldn’t otherwise do – try to buy Fifty Shades of Gray, have a third child, have a fourth child, sext – he refuses to rub my feet. It’s kind […]

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