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Mommies and Daddies
For the grown-ups to discuss ABDL topics. No babies unless you're looking for a 'pankin!
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For those nappies with a landing strip for the tape I find I need to angle the tabs so they hit the landing strip. If I miss with a tab it will probably rip the nappy at some point. -
Happy anniversary oznl! It's 6 years for me now (with no relapses into underpants), and 7 1/2 years of wearing all day every day (but not at night). Unless you count being catheterised in hospital... It's been great having others like you and Little Sherri along for the same ride, and particularly the determination we've all shared that's made it possible for us to live this way and be happy about it. Now for the gradual slide into 'normal' old age...
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By Kitty Angel · Posted
21. The Morning After Despite only drinking a single glass of wine as she got to know her cousin’s girlfriend, Tess had gone to bed worried that she was going to feel terrible in the morning. Perhaps that had been because she’d never known wine could be so strong before, but she felt a huge wave of relief when she woke up without a hangover. Her energy levels were what she might have expected after a good night’s sleep. Her head wasn’t hurting. Her body didn’t feel lethargic. The feeling when she thought about breakfast was hunger, rather than nausea. But her sheets weren’t dry. It just wasn’t fair. She’d been here nearly a week now, and she had woken up to a wet bed as often as not. And even worse, those wet mornings had been the only time she felt like she had slept properly. If she had to choose between waking up in a puddle of her own pee, and waking up feeling like she’d barely slept a wink, she didn’t think she would be able to handle either option. But she did her best. She gathered up her clothes, and loaded them into the washing machine, listening at her door first to confirm that nobody else was awake. Then she had done her best to tidy up the kitchen, which was in a much worse state than she had ever seen it in before. It was hard to know, but she wondered if the presence of her girlfriend put all thoughts of tidiness to the back of Gabby’s mind. In any case, she was feeling more alive than ever, and so she saw it as her duty to tidy up. She was surprised to find that the figurine she had given Gabby had been moved to the centre of the TV stand, so it would obscure just enough of the screen to interfere with anyone trying to read subtitles. She was slightly less surprised, in the circumstances, to find three different bottles of wine in the lounge. Or, to be more accurate, three empty wine bottles. The one she’d declined had been the first one that Ffrances brought into the lounge; so those two must have finished three whole bottles after Tess had already gone to bed. When the TV’s motion sensor noticed her movement and woke the screen from sleep mode, she realised that whatever they had been watching was still playing. Tess glanced at the screen for long enough to realise that it wasn’t more Captain Kairo, and then decided that she had no interest in knowing what that trash actually was. She pressed ‘menu’ on the remote control, and turned the TV off again. “Laundry day, baby?” Gabby’s voice startled Tess as she was finishing the cleanup of the kitchen. Most times, she would probably have let that slide. One word insults might just be some attempt at a joke, like Gabby didn’t have another funny nickname for her. But when she had spent the best part of ten minutes clearing up after someone who was supposedly more responsible, she really wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “I’m not a– Holy crap!” Tess had been ready to unleash a tirade, but the words died in her mouth as she turned and saw how her cousin actually looked. Clinging on to the bannister to support herself, with streaked makeup that she had apparently forgotten to take off before bed, she looked like hell. Gabby looked like Tess imagined she would have felt at the start of the week, had she not been so preoccupied with her other problems. When she saw someone clearly struggling not to throw up, she immediately wanted to help. She didn’t care that this fate was self-inflicted, and she didn’t care enough to point out that it was only her maturity that had allowed her to escape a similar fate. She just wanted Gabby to feel better. However, the older cousin still insisted that she wanted to make her own breakfast, mumbling a half-garbled version of the advice that Spike had already passed on from his father about how to avoid the worst parts of a hangover. Tess helped out while Gabby was still under the weather, and before long they had breakfast ready. Tess hoped that her cousin would feel better soon; she didn't like to see her like that. But what she hadn't expected was the conversation segueing back to her wet sheets in the middle of the meal. Gabby didn't mention it directly, but it was clear enough what she meant by a 'little problem'. Gabby suggested anxiety as a cause, but Tess was quick to point out that the few times this had happened were the only thing she was worrying about. She countered that she was sure it was just some minor illness or something, and she could deal with it herself. Gabby had an answer for that too, suggesting that she should have to see a doctor, in case there was anything they could do to help. To Tess, that was a worrying thought. She didn't want to discuss this with anyone, and she certainly didn't want a doctor's probing questions over something she was sure would sort itself out. “Maybe I’m too tired?” she suggested, wondering if her lack of good sleep was somehow making her body weaker. But that was weird, because this morning – like a couple of times before – she'd woken feeling completely refreshed. Still, Gabby had more suggestions, and one that could actually have been helpful this time. Gabby had studied psychology at university, and could think of several realistic-sounding reasons that Tess’s recent problems could have been triggered by psychological problems she wasn’t fully aware of. However, she was keen to point out that she only had knowledge of the theoretical side of the human mind. Ffrances, on the other hand, was the expert in helping people to discover and resolve their hidden hangups. “If you’ve never seen Ffrances rant about unofficial therapy,” Gabby explained. Ffrances didn’t like the kind of people who would do something approaching therapy without a proper doctor-patient relationship. “It can be an education. But for me, I’m sure she’d do whatever she can.” “I don’t know,” Tess answered, her interest waning. She didn’t want to sound too dismissive, but… “I don’t think talking to somebody is going to help. Not if I don’t know what’s upsetting me. I can’t tell her what I don’t know, you know? I just need to find a happy medium between waking up in the middle of the night, and sleeping so deeply that I don’t wake up when I need to.” “Well, I might not be up to speed with the specifics, but I’m pretty sure there’s techniques that can help with that. Not going into actual therapy, and not trying to hide your problems. Just letting you put your negative emotions to one side so you can get a good night sleep, and then try to dig into any problems at your leisure.” “That sounds like some kind of magic. Like, I thought they can only talk about what’s bothering you. How do you turn off worries without having to work out what they are first?” “Sorry, I thought I was being clear enough there. She doesn’t like to use the word, because it seems tacky, and people get the wrong idea. But my girlfriend is pretty damn good at hypnosis, and I think that could give you a chance to tackle these problems on your own.” Tess didn’t answer. She didn’t give some automatic response about how that wasn’t real, or how she didn’t think it could work like it did in the movies. She didn’t give an instinctive response because she didn’t allow herself to answer too quickly. Even if she seemed to be floating on a continuum somewhere between drunk and hung over, it felt like she could trust Gabby in that moment. And if there was anything hypnosis was surely good for, it would be helping her to sleep. “Okay, fine,” she said, after a little pause. “Maybe that might be a good idea. But I really think I can get over this by myself. I’m not a baby, and I don’t need anybody else’s help. I’m telling you now, I don’t have a problem. It was just a fluke. And if it doesn’t happen again this week, you have to stop calling me ‘baby’. Okay? Only if I can’t get over it myself, then I’ll ask you, and then you can tell her that I’m having trouble sleeping, and ask her to help a little. You don’t need to tell her I’m having any other problems, because I’m not. Right? But if I can’t start sleeping better in a few weeks, I’ll ask, and we can see if this hypnosis thing will help.” “And I’ll do all I can to make sure she says yes,” Gabby nodded, and then turned her attention back to her breakfast. It was the best outcome that Tess could have hoped for. -
By Kitty Angel · Posted
Yep, think that's a thing Not sure if I should respond to this, when I'm so happy to see people speculating. But that's slightly off… Tess never liked those old posts. Gabby clicked them herself when Tess left her computer unlocked. I pronounced with with the 'f' sound slightly extended; but not sure really. The name came from a discussion on a writing group about the difficulty of avoiding duplication in character names; kind of an in-joke from anyone who's noticed how hard it was getting to find names I haven't already used. Thank you so much for all the comments! I really do need to get better at working out which details people will pick up on. 18. Our Offer of Help I wasn’t surprised on Sunday morning to hear Tess moving around in her room when the sun had barely risen. She’d gone to bed a couple of hours before us, leaving me and Ffrances to a somewhat drunken deliberation about the best place for a Captain Kairo figurine to live in all his faux-retro seventies glory. In the end we’d settled for pride of place on the TV stand, where a single spike of purple hair stood up in front of the screen. We’d agreed that it was perfect, at about the point in the evening where we had switched from nostalgia shows to a third rate porn channel with the sound off. For a while, we had tried adding our own dialogue for the excuse plot, reminding each other in stage whispers that we needed to keep our voices down so that we didn’t wake the baby. Later in the evening, we had both remembered that it was unlikely anything would wake her. She was on the far side of the house, even if she hadn’t had chemical assistance to remain asleep. This morning my head was ringing. That was my own fault, as well. Captain Kairo had always had a strange moreish quality, where you think it would be good to watch just one more episode before bed. As a kid, that had been the thing that got me in trouble the most. As an adult I didn’t have a real bedtime, but one more episode had been joined by one more glass, until the 1am switch to other forms of entertainment. And now it wasn’t even eight. Ffrances groaned, and mumbled something into the pillow. When I placed a hand on her butt, she just slapped it away. It seemed that we were suffering equally from my lack of self control. “Tess is awake,” I whispered. “More noise than most days. Think she’s stripping the bed.” “We should help her.” But she didn’t move, except to grab another pillow and press it over her ears. I had nothing but sympathy for her, but knew I had to at least be conscious enough to make sure the child was okay. I didn’t actually feel too bad right now, but I knew that would change pretty quickly in an hour or so, when I estimated I might be sober enough for the mother-in-law of all hangovers to really make its presence felt. “Not yet. She’ll deny she has a problem, and I think she’d get scared. If this is making her feel more comfortable, we don’t want to be the strict adults scaring her into stopping. We need to let her tell us when she’s ready to.” Ffrances nodded, and a few moments later she was asleep again. I wished I could follow. But right now, I knew that Tess would be worrying. So I waited until I heard the sound of running water; the cold water header tank was right above my room, so I could recognise by now when the washing machine was filling. Then I struggled into sweatpants and my ugliest tee, and headed downstairs to offer breakfast. “Laundry day, baby?” I asked, jerking a thumb towards the machine. “Doesn’t seem like a week since Friday.” I didn’t want to confront her, sure. But if she knew that I knew, that would hopefully make it easier for her to admit when she was ready. She wouldn’t need to worry about my response, because she already knew I wouldn’t be angry. “I told you, I’m not…” she almost snapped, and then did a double take. “Holy… You look like hell.” “Ugh,” I shrugged. “I feel like it. ‘Just one more’ is good for Chinese cartoons, not so much for fancy Dutch wine.” “It’s not actually Chinese, you know? It was a Canadian-Japanese co-production. Just China was the only country where people actually liked it, so after the second year they only made it for the Chinese market.” “I thought you didn’t know Captain Kairo?” “I don’t. But I looked it up when you were so upset about losing your doll. Thought maybe I could help. I guess I did in the end, it just took a decade. And I must have remembered that one little detail.” “Thanks. But right now I think we both need a hearty breakfast.” “You sure you’re okay to cook?” “Best way to deal with it,” I said. I really didn’t feel up to it, but I’d been living mostly on my own for a long time, and had faced the same situation often enough. Especially as a student, out from under my Dad’s thumb for the first time. “I make breakfast. Might be hard to face food, but it helps. Carbs bring your blood sugar up, grapefruit juice to make sure you’re not dehydrated. The bitterness briefly suppresses nausea, so you’re more likely to be able to stomach it. And fried food with grease soaks up the toxins in your blood stream, or something. Someone who knows this stuff better explained it to me, I don’t really understand, but it seems to work. I mean, maybe it’s all psychological, doing something helps your mind to focus on being awake. But it feels like it helps me.” “Good plan,” she shrugged. “I should get used to cooking for myself sooner or later, so just ask if you need me to do anything.” I prepared breakfast, but the little one did end up helping me more than I would have been willing to admit. I didn’t make any for Ffrances; she had a different routine when she was feeling a little delicate, which seemed to mostly revolve around drinking copious amounts of herbal tea. If she was feeling up to food I could make some when she was actually awake. “So…” I mumbled, after forcing bacon into my mouth had somehow helped me to feel a little more alive. “Are you sure you’re coping with…” A general hand wave to encompass the world around us, with specific focus on the sheets spinning in the washing machine. “I’m fine. It’s probably just an infection or something. I heard that can happen, sometimes.” “Right. But if it does, you should be on antibiotics. Or something else if it’s a fungal thing, I guess? I don’t know that much about it. But I think if it’s been going on for a week, it’s probably time to see the doctor. They might want to take a swab or something, find out what kind of infection it is, the usual doctor stuff.” “Yeah,” she nodded slowly. She didn’t want to talk to me about it, that much was clear, but she wanted to see a doctor even less. That would have meant admitting that she had a real problem, and held its own kind of shame. “If you’re sure it’s physical, I mean. I read somewhere that it’s common when you’re under a lot of stress. Like a psychological release valve. Something to do with how your brain processes memories. If you’re subconsciously afraid of something, you might escape a little deeper into dreamland, so you don’t wake up so quickly if you need to. Do you feel like you’ve been sleeping deeper, or more soundly?” Another nod. I’d been sure she would agree with that one, even if she wasn’t sure if it was a real change. “I guess,” she said. “But I’m not so sure. A lot of days, when I haven’t… I mean, I was starting to wonder if it’s because I’m not sleeping well sometimes. Since I’ve been here it seems like I’ve woken up in the night almost every night, and I’m still tired in the morning. So maybe it’s just that, and once I’m sleeping a bit better… Well, I guess it’s like sleeping too deep or not deep enough, searching for a happy medium.” “I can see that,” I said, struggling to gather my thoughts. I wasn’t in the right state of mind for this conversation, but I couldn’t take the risk that she wouldn’t be willing to talk to me again. “Is it too noisy at night? Too much light through the blinds? There might be something we can do to help you sleep more reliably, or more regularly if that’s the case.” “I don’t know. I can’t think of anything at all. I mean, you said it can be stress, and that could keep me awake, but the only thing I’m really worrying about is… you know. Having to do laundry again, I worry about my friends thinking I’m a baby.” “Well, I don’t know about this stuff. I did one module of psychology at university, but that was like mostly impulse theory and crowd behaviour and stuff. But if there’s a psychological component, maybe Ffrances could think of a way to help you. If you want, I can ask if she’ll help you out. As a favour to me, I mean. She won’t do like proper therapy stuff, but I know I can get her to try if I ask nicely. She might be able to dig something out of your subconscious mind, help you understand the problems. Or even help you tune out the worries that you’re not really aware of, to help you sleep properly.” “You think she’d do it?” “Maybe not today. And I’ve seen people ask her for help before, and she just shoots them down. Like the most scathing comeback you can believe, if you’ve never seen Ffrances rant about unofficial therapy, it can be an education. But for me, I’m sure she’d do whatever she can.” -
By astrodiaper · Posted
I really should eat better. However, my whole thing is not eating for a day or two, just because I don't feel like it. (Decision paralysis sometimes plays a role.)
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