Diaper References

For those of us over a certain age growing up with wet sheets and pjs was just the way things were for bedwetters. I didnt hear about other options until I was an adult although somebody on this site posted a picture of an ad proving that bedwetting 'solutions' were available in the 1960s and 70s. Who knew. My moms solution though was a rubber sheet on the mattress with an absorbing pad on top of it and then the regular sheets and blankets depending on the time of year. 

I had been kicked out of my room! I thought it wise to avoid a confrontation with the old woman. So, I returned to the bathroom to regroup. But when I turned the knob, the door was locked, and a voice shouted “Occupied!” I was naked wrapped in only a towel in the middle of a long hallway of white wainscotting. I contemplated the other doors. All of them were closed. I knocked quietly on a bedroom door. “Go away!” a young voiced demanded. I knocked on another. “Not now!” a girl’s voice rang. Reluctantly, I tapped on Vanessa’s door, and it burst open. “Oh, there you are!” Vanessa said giddily and pulled me into her bedroom. “Are you lost little girl?” “Someone’s in my room—,” I grumbled. Vanessa cut me off. “No, the guest room is for grownups. Gams and Pap are staying in there.” “Where am I supposed to—” “No sulking, I have your clothes right here,” Vanessa gestured. Laid out on the bed was the dress I had mistakenly received on my first night. The same dress which started this entire ordeal. I frowned at the dreaded garment and then at Vanessa. There was no way I was going to drop my towel, reveal myself and get dressed in front of her. Fortunately, Vanessa dashed away downstairs. I swiftly closed the door and speedily dropped my towel and stepped into the dress. Again, I noticed how the dress magically made my chest disappear. Beside the dress were a pair of white cotton panties and socks. However, these panties were slightly different as they were adorned with ruffles on the rear. I poked my right foot through the leg hole but as I lifted my left foot I hesitated as if completing the movement was compliant regression. The panties were tight and cupped my cheeks. It was irritating and I tugged at the elastic. Instead of knee-high socks I had been given a pair of ruffled ankle socks. I slipped them on followed by the familiar black shoes. I knew these were all a trap. A tool designed for my downfall. “Don’t give up. Play along, play along. Only two more days,” I chanted internally. I looked at my hair and recalled a stipulation from the agreement stating I was not allowed to wear my hair down and loose. I quickly brushed my hair into two pigtails and tied them with the red velvet ribbons on the bed. The mirror must have been warped in some way because in Vanessa’s full-length mirror I looked even younger. I took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door. I was bombarded by Christmas music and the amazing smell of glazed ham. The aroma had ascended to mouthwatering levels and conquered the hallway. And since I hadn’t eaten all day apart from some crackers I hungrily scampered downstairs. I knew I was running late but I hadn’t planned to make an entrance but that’s exactly what I did. The entire family was already seated so Vanessa seized the opportunity to direct everyone’s attention on me. “Ta da!” she sang, sarcastically imitating me when I first appeared in the dress. They all stared at me. At the table were Mr. and Mrs. Morrison, Aunt Ruth, Aunt Madeline, Uncle Ryan, the grandparents, Tim, Vanessa and three women I didn’t recognize. My embarrassment was further compounded by how I was dressed. Involuntarily I awkwardly rotated my right foot inward. Mrs. Morrison grimaced at my tardiness and waved me to the children’s table. Before I could shift my position one of the three women spoke; a twenty something redhead dressed in a tan cashmere sweater. “Ooh, who is this sweetie?” “This is Stephie who has a habit of being impertinently late.” “Stephie?!” I thought and clenched my jaw. Mrs. Morrison’s eyes remained on me. The redhead leaned forward and peered over the table at me. “My name’s Michelle. It’s nice to meet you, Stephie.” The other two women were older with gray hair and wore flowered dresses with lace. They shared Mrs. Morrison’s grim expression of distaste. Mrs. Morrison pointed again. I scrambled to the children’s table and melted into my seat. I fully expected to be seated at the children’s table. However, I had hoped to slip in unnoticed. At the children’s table were Susan and the five cousins: Caleb, Josh, Rafael, Hannah, and Lily. It took some time before I was given a plate. The portions were modest but there was ham, green peas, mashed potatoes, and apple sauce. It was delicious. But as I peered around the sophisticated surroundings, I noticed the culinary fare differed greatly at the adult table. They were enjoying glazed ham, beef rib roast, pumpkin soup, sweet potato gratin with maple butter, Yorkshire pudding, asparagus, and shrimp cocktail. It was hard to watch them enjoying wine and chatting while I endured a constant kicking motion which threatened the stability of our folding table. “Stop it,” I whispered harshly. My words had no effect on Caleb, and he continued to swing his leg. With each hit I watched the milk in his cup slosh over the rim onto the table. “Knock it off,” I demanded again. Caleb made a sour face at me and gripped the sides of the table and jostled it. More milk spilled. Susan and Lily were engrossed in an inane conversation about boys and seemed oblivious. The youngest of the group, Hannah and Josh had been excused and disappeared from the table. Only Caleb and Rafael seemed focused on provoking me. “This is our table. You don’t belong here,” Susan piped. I just stared at her. Then the two girls giggled and turned back to their private chat. Susan was right, I didn’t belong here. I didn’t want to be here. I should be at the big table. How had it come to this? I ate silently ate and tried to overlook my situation. Caleb and Rafael had now engaged in a new sport of flicking peas onto my plate. I tried to ignore them, but my headache had returned. More than once I flared up at them. “Knock it off!” I insisted harshly. My admonishments had no effect and only fueled them further. It was on my fourth scolding I raised my voice a little too loud. This attracted the attention of Mrs. Morrison, who raised her eyebrows and cleared her throat and at me. I dissolved into my seat a little more. Caleb and Rafael observed our nonverbal exchange and laughed. Mockingly they too cleared their throats, bumped the table, and played hockey with their peas. I was miserable. In an effort to escape I attempted to eavesdrop on the adults. I couldn’t hear very well above the boy’s antics, but Michelle seemed to have charmed the entire table. Even Tim and Vanessa were engaged. I watched her enviously as I had always felt tolerated during dinners. I heard Michelle say Jack’s name a few times, but I couldn’t hear the context. When it did happen, I noticed Vanessa beamed at me. I strained despite my local distractions. “Well, Jack...,” Michelle laughed again. “What was she saying?” I finally gave up. I wanted to get up and confront the table and the redhead, but I knew that was mistake. If only I could communicate with Jack. Then I noticed something in Susan’s hand. A cell phone! Susan and Lily secretly snickered at some silly video. Routinely they glimpsed at Mrs. Morrison. When the video was over Susan hid the phone in her lap under her napkin. I leaned over. “Susan, that’s a nice phone. May I see it for a second?” I asked politely. I half expected a snide answer but to my glorious surprise she simply said, “Sure.” I had no intention to call Jack, but I could text him a brief message and ask him to call me on his family’s land line. They couldn’t refuse a direct request from Jack. They would have to let me talk to him or otherwise he would be suspicious. Susan offered her phone across the table. As my fingers touched the sparkled case Caleb snatched it away. “What’s this? Wow!” he mocked as if he had never seen a phone. “Give it back!” I stretched across the table, but Caleb merely stood up and held the phone high above his head. My headache was in full swing which clouded my judgement. Had I taken a moment to analyze the situation I would have calmly aborted my quest for a later time. But I was so focused on obtaining the phone I leapt up after him. As I rose, I bumped the table, pulled the green tablecloth, and knocked over several glasses of milk and apple juice. “Give it to me!” I shouted desperately. In a flash the two aunts descended on the table with towels and blotted the spilled liquid. In the background I heard Mr. Morrison’s voice. “No phones at the table Susan. You know the rules,” he said calmly. Out of nowhere I felt a twisting pain in my right ear and Mrs. Morrison was rapidly dragging me out of the dining room. “Ow! No, no, no!” I repeated. I was forced to follow her in fear my ear would be torn off. She didn’t take me far. We stopped in the hallway. She gripped my forearm and spun me around. I felt my skirt being lifted. Then Mrs. Morrison delivered four sharp stinging swats to my ruffled bottom. They were forceful enough to scoot me forward. Tears streamed down my face. It was more from embarrassment than pain. I was positive everyone had heard. Mrs. Morrison straightened up and spoke to Vanessa. “Go get the desserts and bring them out.” I turned just in time to see Vanessa lower a cell phone and walk away. “What? Did Vanessa just record that?” I wondered. I had no time to think because Mrs. Morrison gripped my chin roughly. “That was warning. Those ladies are from our church. The next time you cause an upset like that I will pull those ruffled panties down in front of the entire family and spank your bare bottom bright red. Do you understand me, Stephie?” There was no pretense in her voice this time. She spoke to me as if I really were a child. It was outrageous. “Go dry your eyes and collect yourself,” she ordered as she released me. I remained motionless. I was stunned. I wiped my eyes and tried to control my breathing. I couldn’t believe I had let this happen again. Clearly Mrs. Morrison had an effect on me. I had lost my focus again and allowed myself to be bullied into submission. I felt so stupid. The powder room was the closest bathroom. I splashed some water on my face, calmed down and made up my mind. “I am done playing this game! No more! I am leaving tonight no matter what,” I thought. Susan had asked her mother again to open another early Christmas present. Apparently, this was a standard tradition as there was no resistance. There also seemed to be extra gifts to honor her request. I heard the family migrate to the living room. Before I joined them, I made a slight inspection detour past the mud room. I entered the living room as inconspicuously as I could and received only a few sour expressions. I sat cross legged on the floor and plotted. When everyone was asleep, I would sneak out of the house. All I needed was a coat and boots and there are plenty by the door. I didn’t know where I would go but I was not about to stay here another day. I would walk into town. It would be cold, but I could do it. Somehow, I would call Jack and end this charade. The family had taken their usual positions around the lighted Christmas tree. Mr. and Mrs. Morrison settled on the beige striped couch with the grandparents nearby. The two aunts were in armchairs on opposite sides of the room. Uncle Carl leaned near Tim who lounged by the fireplace with his pumpkin pie and cell phone. The children gathered near the tree transfixed. Michelle, the redhead, sat on an ottoman near the couch and smiled at the festivities. The two ladies from church rested on a plush bench together sipping coffee. As I watched Vanessa dodge around the room delivering gifts, I glanced at the sour faced church ladies and realized why my head was pounding. Coffee! I had a caffeine headache. I drank coffee every morning but Mrs. Morrison in her enthusiasm to deny any adult pleasures had prevented me. Was that intentional? Was it part of her plan? Missing my caffeine fix had certainly affected me mentally. I also chided myself. I had repeated the same behavior which led to my punishments. My desperate tunnel vision had caused me to overreact and grab at a cell phone both times. It was unbelievable. Michelle’s melodious laugh echoed, and I saw her brush a lock of red hair off her shoulder. I studied her and noted she had good taste based on her attire. She was also blessed with a well-proportioned body, a pretty face, and an inviting smile. Vanessa interrupted my thoughts and swirled into a seated position next to me. “How are you doing?” she inquired with false concern. “Fine,” I answered flatly. Vanessa followed my sight line and commented. “Pretty, isn’t she?” Vanessa chuckled. “Oh, don’t look so glum, Merry Christmas, Stephie, she said and plopped a gift box in my lap. “Mother said don’t wait on the others. Go ahead and open it now.” Vanessa shot away and I glanced up. The entire family was focused on Josh’s struggle with a large package. I checked the label to confirm the gift was for me. I slowly unwrapped the blue paper decorated with dancing snowmen and peeled back the tissue paper. Inside I discovered a note from Mrs. Morrison. “Stephie, your insistence you are an adult is inaccurate. Your behavior clearly dictates otherwise. The enclosed accurately reveals your true identity.” I unclasped the large envelope and slid out the heavy paper. I recognized the intricate blue pattern in the corners. At the top it read “State of California, Certification of Vital Record.” It was a copy of my birth certificate. Suspiciously my eyes darted through the boxes. The first thing I spotted was my mother’s maiden name been corrected. Her maiden’s name was “Chisholm” but had been incorrectly entered as “Chisolm”. It was a minor issue and had no real affect. But it was something I had always intended to correct but I was daunted by the paperwork. At first, I thought Mrs. Morrison had paid me a kindness and managed to correct the mistaken entry. Everything else on the document appeared accurate until I scanned deeper and received the biggest shock. Somehow at the top I had subconsciously skipped past the box marked “date of birth”. I read the entry again and again in disbelief “What?!” I thought. Instead of reading “April 12, 1999” it now read “April 12, 2010”! I examined the paper, the official stamp, and each entry. Overall, it appeared to be very legitimate. This was extraordinary! There was no way Mrs. Morrison had been able to alter my birth certificate. “It’s not possible,” I muttered softly as I stared at the evidence in my hand. Mrs. Morrison had somehow made me only twelve years old!                                                                                     The end of part 2.

Welcome!

I gotta go with Pizza Hut because I've ordered from their the most and then Dominos.  I've been ordering from local places as of the past few years.  But Rock Rococo's is good. I'm especially fond of their breadsticks 

Those chains all suck I’m partial to a good New York style pizza around here that would be Good Fellas