A glass half full moment

Okay, here's the 3rd story in the series with the usual disclaimers.


What the hell? Where is that sound coming from? My brain attempts to comprehend why it is being forced to leave the glorious state of slumber. Not anywhere near awake mode, I roll over making sure to keep my exposure to the elements at a minimum. I decide to open one eye - it wasn’t being protected under the comforter anyway. Besides, someone has to take one for the team and I have a spare.

Let me look, 3am (I didn’t smash the alarm clock this time – learning impulse control and all that). Damn, it’s cold. There it is again. Shit – it’s the doorbell.

“Somebody better be dead or they’re about to be,” I mumble while making my way from my toasty bed onto the cold, harsh tundra. I am able to keep the comforter wrapped around my body. Works okay as long as I take little baby steps. Stairs are a little trickier but I persevere until I reach my destination (sounds heroic, huh?).

“Girl, what is going on? Are you okay?” I inquire as my nineteen year old niece stumbles into my arms before the front door is barely open. Fortunately the officer (oh goody) has a grip on her coat so I am able to keep from falling (so there Mr. Gravity) as she elegantly embraces me (oh yeah, a glass half full moment). I quickly surmise what is interfering with Kate’s ability to remain erect.Yep, Kate has had a little too much to drink. At least I hope all she did was drink.

Mr. Campus Police Officer gives me the abbreviated version (she’s drunk...underage...a campus party...no ticket...good luck...give my regards to Professor McAlister). On the positive side, nobody is dead. On the negative side (and there is one) an officer brought my drunk niece home at 3am. Can’t quite bring myself to the glass-half-full side of the Force. Nope, that’s definitely going to take a whole lot more work.

“Hi Aunt Sam. I couldn’t get the door to work,” she offers as an explanation to my raised eyebrow. Fortunately I speak drunk so I understand her slurred speech. I am also quite adept at navigating the house under such conditions, a skill which proves to be priceless as we (I) make our way (carry my niece) to the guest room. Kate is out like a light as soon as she stumbles onto the bed. Let’s see if I remember the put-a-drunk-to-bed steps: 1.remove shoes, 2. place a blanket over intoxicated person, 3. kiss goodnight.

No problem, like riding a bike. Uh oh, almost forgot number step 4 (don’t even try to pretend you don’t know). I quickly retrieve the little waste basket from the bathroom and place it next to the bed. Kate isn’t an experienced drinker (as least I hope not) so this may come in handy later if the “spins” visit her.

I quickly traverse the tundra (stairs) to reach my comforter and continue the journey to my inviting bed. Shit, it’ll take forever for me to get warm again. Get real - I’m not sleeping anymore tonight.

Lugging my old friend, I deposit myself in my rocking chair and surround my body with the fluffy, soothing comforter. Hopefully looking at the stars will bring me some sense of clarity as they have done so many times before.

Quietly pondering (some say sulking) my situation the committee decides to convene an emergency meeting. Yes…I am referring to the committee of voices that take up residence in my brain. When I revealed that to a friend from Georgia, she responded with, “Honey, bless your heart.” Took me a minute to realize she had just called me crazy. They are polite, those Southerners.

I prefer to view the committee as another charming aspect of my magnetic personality.

I remind the committee that Tina will be back tomorrow night and I can, in fact, handle this situation without her (she’s speaking at some symposium …I’m sure it has to do with books or something – I zoned out after “I’m talking to a group of professors about …”). I am a professional educator with years of experience. I am a mature responsible adult. Yes, glass is half full again!

I’ll have to remind myself of my glass-half-full position tomorrow as I am being the “Mean Aunt”. It’s just so much easier to go halfsies with Tina in these situations… “Almost Mean Aunt” has a better ring to it. Glass half full my ass.

Resting my chin on my knees (nicely padded thanks to my “get freaking warm” measures), I can’t help but smile thinking about Katie (sorry, Kate since she turned eighteen and obtained adult status). Being the first grandchild has afforded Kate with many benefits. Hey, I know what that’s like. I had my grandfather and father wrapped around my little finger too. Depending on the circumstances (getting what I wanted, same thing) a little pout, occasional tears, perfect smile or the angelic “I love you” went a long way with the male members of the family.

The women were a little more hip to my ploys, Mom much more so than Grams. Grams told me one time the nice thing about having grandchildren is you can spoil them and then send them home to their parents. She didn’t care if I had cookies for breakfast, lunch and dinner as long as we didn’t mention it (wanted to spare Mom any worry about my dental health – she’s thoughtful that way). Some in the family have suggested Grams and I share some character traits. I know Kate and I do. Hey, not everyone can be as cool as we are. See, glass half full again!

Kate stays with us occasionally when she needs a break from dorm life (misses HBO). My brother felt much better about sending his fragile, little girl out into the big, bad world (aka college) knowing Tina and I were close by. It didn’t hurt that Tina was a professor at the college Kate elected to attend. I promised Jack we would look out for his little girl. At times this has been easier said then done.

Kate is a good kid for the most part and hasn’t gotten into any trouble. One time last year she went to a frat party and got drunk. Campus police brought her to our house as a favor to Tina and didn’t file any paperwork. According to Kate she was subjected to relentless interrogating (asking) and endless lecturing (twenty minutes or so). Kate promised to refrain from alcohol until she was twenty one. I think she showed a lot of maturity with her decision. Tina was convinced it was the pounding headache and upset stomach. Such a skeptic.

Kate decided to stay with us for three weeks (grounded but we didn’t call it that, her being an adult and all) to take a break from dorm life. Hey, she was an eighteen year old college kid living the college life. All the adults were satisfied that would be the end of it. Tina was even convinced. Damn, Kate’s good.

The unmistakable moan of someone waking up after a night of drinking (like you don’t know exactly what I mean) can be heard from the guest room. Time to put on my I’m-here-to-help Aunt face and minister to my sick niece. With a deep sigh (being an adult can suck at times) I leave the comfort of my chair and make my way to the kitchen. Coffee, a glass of water, toast and two aspirin await my niece’s arrival.

“Hi honey. How do you feel?” I use a very soft voice, have made sure any signs of irritation are erased from my face (not an easy thing) and even closed the blinds. Being the magnanimous person that I am, I let Kate recover from her night out without adding to her discomfort. I know, nice Aunt.

Kate apologizes profusely for last night. It did, however, become apparent to me that last night wasn’t the only night Kate had consumed the nectar of the Gods. You see, she retrieved “Hangover Helper” from her pocket. Hell, wish I had that in college. Back in the day we only had aspirin and a Bloody Mary. I decide not to share my reminiscing with Kate – might undermine my authority a little.

I lean against the stove, arms folded, neutral expression, and look pointedly in her direction as she gulps the mixture down. Wait, wait for it…BINGO – it dawns on her what she has just done. Her face has the “Oh shit!!!” expression as she quickly tries to hide the damning evidence. Such a rookie mistake.

I knew she is praying that she hasn’t been caught as she glances my way. I give her my do-you-think-I’m-stupid look (nice to be on the giving instead of receiving end). Nope, not going to make this easy for her.

And there is…head cradled in hands as the I’m-so-busted look creeps across her face (please, you know exactly what I’m talking about). Time for “I’m-here-to-help” Aunt to be replaced with “I’m-the-adult-so-there” Aunt. She’s more fun…for me, not necessarily Kate.

“All right Kate. This is what I’m going to do. You have exactly one hour to do whatever you need to do to get yourself together. After that, we are going to talk about last night. I will meet you in your bedroom. Understand?” Who knew I could sound so Mom-like!

She softly replies, “Yes ma’am.” Kate has never called me ma’am. Let me repeat – never, ever called me ma’am. As a matter of fact, I’ve only heard her use that when she’s in big trouble. Seems appropriate.

Leaving Kate to her own thoughts, I venture off in search of some guidance. Knowing Tina was doing her “presenting” thing and Kate’s parents were incommunicado (on some cruise – lucky them), I quickly decide to gain some wisdom from Mom and Grams (thank you three-way calling!).

After explaining the situation and enduring a game of twenty questions, both women come up with the same suggestion. I should point out they wanted to make sure I hadn’t overlooked some vital piece of information. Like what? How hard is it – drunk Kate…Campus Police…repeat offender.

Sorry, I digress. This quick resolution is an aberration. See, they don’t agree on much without endless negotiation/compromise (unless Grams pulls the because-I-said-so card – really pisses off Mom!) that goes on and on for hours. I’m thinking their suggestion isn’t going to be at the top of my wish list.

After some discussion and a little whining on my part (hey, I’m the one here with Kate), we (them) agree on the solution. I swear I hear Mom and Grams chuckle a little at my obvious discomfort. I seem to surround myself with funny women. Yay me.

Shit, I was hoping for some other suggestion… any other solution. Spanking doesn’t make the top 100 on my wish list.

I am well versed in the role of spankee (don’t even pretend to be surprised), had lots of practice and really have a talent or so I’ve been told. Spanker, not so talented. I express my concerns to two people who are very much aware of my extensive history being on the receiving end.

Grams offers words of encouragement. “Honey, I know you can do this. Do it for the Gipper!” She’s had a crush on Ronnie since he was Governor of California (betcha weren’t expecting a Reagan reference). Yeah, I’ll be the little engine that could. Where is that fucking glass again?

Mom struggles a bit before coming up with this little gem. “Honey, look at it this way. You have had the opportunity to participate in countless spankings.” Sooo, now I have years of spanking experience…remarkably similar to Hillary Clinton’s 35 years of political experience. Isn’t Mom the glass-half-full person.

I point out the flaw in her assessment – my participation, while extensive, did not allow me to actually see the technique, only feel the results. Neither woman has a response to my flawless logic. I begin to breathe a little easier – I’m not going to be required to be a Spanker after all.

As the conversation comes to a close, I am told “we love you (suck it up)” and “you love Kate (she needs you to do this)”. Yeah…I can read between the lines. No need for either woman to pull out the because-I-said-so card.

As I begin to review Kate’s conduct, feelings regarding her behavior bubble to the surface. Fear, anger, fear, hurt, fear…that sums it up. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all…the Spanker thing. The time has come for Kate to get exactly what she needs.

I make my way (with trepidation) to the bedroom and knock on the door. “Come in,” she quietly whispers. I know she’s as scared as I am. There she is, sitting on the bed looking much younger (and smaller) than her nineteen years. Her diminutive size (Kate’s maybe 90 pounds soaking wet) and Mickey Mouse shirt complete the picture. Great, I’m about to hit a little kid. Glass is not looking half full right now.

Her hands clasped in her lap, downcast eyes and sullen expression convey her contrition. I know she’s afraid of what she’ll see in my eyes. Slowly I make my way to her bed and sit down next to her. I notice the tears and wrap my arms around this suffering soul. I continue to rock her as she sobs, just like my mother has done countless times for me. “Shhh, everything will be okay,” I repeat over and over again, just like Mom did for me. After three hours (ten minutes), her sobbing subsides and I go in search of a Kleenex (for her, not me although I keep the box within reach).

“Katie, look at me please,” I softly say. I can see her take a deep breath and struggle to meet my gaze. “Aunt…” I quickly place my finger over her lips.

“Katie, I know how sorry you are. Let me talk now.” We’re both a little surprised at the firmness in my voice. Must be channeling Mom.

“This isn’t the only time since last year that you’ve been drinking, is it?” She doesn’t answer, doesn’t need to…her eyes say it all. “Yeah, I thought so. I know you think you’re old enough to make decisions on your own without any help, that you’re an adult. The decisions you have made regarding alcohol indicate otherwise.” She looks pleadingly at my face for some understanding.

Great, tears. This time they’re mine.

Can’t stop now Sammie. Come on, you can do it. Kate needs you to be the responsible adult here (sometimes I just want to bitch slap Miss Do-the Right-Thing). Do this for her.

Yes, I’m talking to myself again. So what? As a matter of fact, I think I gave myself a pretty good pep talk. Granted, there is usually dissent among the committee members so this is a little unusual. See, another example of my personal growth.

“Katie, what you did was illegal, stupid and very dangerous. Your behavior was unacceptable.”

Okay, deep breath time and… “I am going to make sure you never forget that.” With that, I grab her wrist and quickly pull her over my lap. Rather deftly if you ask me.

“Aunt Sam, what are you doing?” Katie asks in a somewhat surprised voice. Now, Kate isn’t dumb and I’m not about to be played. She’s messing with the Master now.

Not bothering to reply, I bring my hand down across the middle of her upturned bottom. I quickly follow that with three more smacks, alternating from cheek to cheek. For her part, Kate is playing the stoic-martyrish role. I’m cool with that – whatever she needs to do. After a few dozen swats, legs begin to twitch and little yelps are heard. Being stoic can be a burden.

I stop and rest my hand on her bottom. Damn, didn’t realize how much work spanking is and the sting in the hand- what an eye-opener! No wonder Tina always takes a little “lecture” break.

“Kate, why are you getting spanked?” I want to make sure she gets it, really gets it.

Ohhhh, the light bulb goes off… in my head, not Kate’s. I realize I can’t be resentful when Tina asks me the same question (asked – past tense – want to be clear - PAST tense...no need to borrow trouble). Isn’t insight a bitch.

“Because I got drunk.” I can hear the shame in her voice. Her regret. Her suffering.

“And…”

Taking a deep breath, Kate blurts out, “I know I said I wouldn’t drink again after the first time and that is all it was drinking I mean but it really isn’t a problem and I just wanted to have some fun with my friends and I’m technically underage so I did break the law and Aunt Sam I am so sorry and it won’t happen again.” Wow, she did that all in one breath. At least I know she isn’t smoking!!

“And…”

“And what?” is her whispered reply.

This adult prone across my lap has no idea. No idea that she is precious to so many people...that the idea of anyone, including her, taking chances with her health scares the hell out of me (and a whole bunch of other people!!). She was drunk at a party full of hormonal young men that she didn’t really know – how can she not realize the danger? Well, I’m about to school my young niece in the true precariousness of her situation – then and now.

I reach into her waistband and quickly pull her sweats and panties (a combo on the menu today) down to her knees. Kate is way too slow to react - she is still trying figure out why I am suddenly so pissed. My anger meter went from 3 to 10 in two seconds. How can she not have a clue? It baffles my mind (jeez, I am really being all parentally now).

“No, please Aunt Sammie!!” she pleads. She hasn’t called me Aunt Sammie since she was ten. Considering current events, that seems fitting.

I take a few seconds to calm down – deep breathing, count to ten (150, same thing) before I begin. Here I am, about to continue punishing this obvious adult like a little girl. I need to discuss this incongruency with Tina – then again she’ll just say it’s another thing Kate and I have in common. Yay, another funny woman in my life.

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. Kate gives up all pretense of stoicism as her legs begin to flail. Soon the room is filled with “I’m sorry”, “please stop”, and the always present “owww”. The unmistakable sounds of a well-deserved spanking continue to resonate throughout the house (we have amazing surround sound acoustics). I painstakingly ensure no area of this child’s (and yes, she is a naughty child right now) bottom is left unattended. I can be very goal oriented. A few dozen smacks later and my mission is accomplished.

“Now, Kate, do I have your attention?” I ask in a loud voice (need to use a little more volume to overcome the sobs). “YES, YES, YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION!!”
Nice to see an emphatic response in the younger generation.

“Any idea what you left off your list of transgressions?” I ask, hoping is has dawned on her.

“Sorry, Aunt Samantha. I really don’t know what else to say.” I can hear the confusion in her voice (still pisses me off) and know she really doesn’t get it.

“Katie, do you have any idea what could have happened to you? How dangerous it was for you to get drunk? You could have been hurt...or worse… I don’t know what we would do if anything happened to you Katie-bear.” I don’t even try to keep the fear and frustration from my voice.

I wait a few seconds for my words to sink in. There it is…it dawns on my niece. I watch as her head falls, tears flow freely and her body begins to shake with her sobs. Shame comes to visit with guilt following closely.

“I am so sorry, so sorry. Please don’t hate me. I am so sorry. It will never happen again.” She’s right about the last sentence. I’m going to make sure of that.

“Okay baby. I don’t hate you and I know you’re sorry. We are going to take care of that right now.” SMACK, WHACK, SPANK. I pepper her reddened posterior (apparently I am a natural spanker – who knew?). Hitting my stride, I continue my assault on her upturned bottom for several more minutes. I inspect her deeply crimson and very warm posterior…time to use words again.

You, SMACK, will, SMACK, never, SMACK, SMACK, ever , SMACK, do, SMACK, that , SMACK, again!, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. Do, SMACK, SMACK, you, SMACK, SMACK understand, SMACK, SMACK, me, SMACK, SMACK, little,SMACK, SMACK girl? SMACK, SMACK. Screw the spank-per-word rule – something this serious demands improvisation.

“YESSSSS, I UNDERSTAND!” she somehow manages to yell through the sobbing (I’m pretty impressed – I wouldn’t be able to do that). Her twin globes are glowing a brilliant red and radiating enough heat to warm our entire house.

I pull her tightly to my stomach and prepare to wind this down, the same way spankings have ended in our family for generations (Tina doesn’t know this tidbit and no, it’s not lying… I don’t know every little detail about her life…just shut up). Kate clenches her bottom in anticipation – she knows what’s coming.

Using all my strength, I quickly deliver six scorchers to her sit spot. Her howls fill the entire house. Mom would be proud (okay, not the most sympathetic thought but this was a big deal for me too!). I rub her back and tenderly kiss her head, also part of the family spanking ritual.

Long after the spanking is over, Kate’s bottom is still twitching a bit. I know from personal experience it will continue to do so for some time to come.

“Come here baby,” I softy whisper in her ear, placing her on my lap. I make sure her bottom doesn’t come in contact with my clothing. I have had the opportunity to observe this particular skill numerous times!!!

Arms embracing my Katie, I continue to rock her back and forth while the tears drip from her eyes. Pulling her snugly against my chest, I tell her the words I know I’ve always needed to hear. You’re forgiven. You’re a wonderful person (improvised a little so sue me). You are loved. The same words Mom (now Tina) used to comfort my aching heart so many times. After several minutes her tears dry up and I see the beginnings of a slight smile. This precious bundle begins to experience some measure of solace.

Completely exhausted and emotionally drained, I welcome this quiet time with my Katie. Rocking here, looking at the stars I feel her take in my love. She shyly looks up and brushes away a tear running down my face. I see apprehension in her eyes and I know forgiveness is reflected in mine. I smile and open my heart to this precious being. Katie snuggles closer, accepting the unconditional love I freely offer. It’s always there, that unconditional love. Sometimes Katie can’t bring herself to accept it. Another thing we have in common…but not tonight.

I feel Kate’s breathing slow; her body relax and know she has fallen asleep. Reaching for the comforter, I pull it snugly around us both as I drift off to sleep.

Life is good. Life is very good