Mummy Dl - Blog Posts

Now listen to Mummy.

I’m going to be super busy with work this week, so I won’t be around much—but you know just how much I care about your wellbeing and stress levels, don’t think for a second that my absence means you're off the hook...

So here’s what you're going to do.

I want you to make sure you relieve yourself, I want you to do cummies, but only when I say so.

Don’t let all that tension build up too much—self love is important to Mummy remember? But we have standards in this house, don't we? ...and I expect you to meet them.

I want you feeling good, not frustrated, and my poor baby struggles if he's pent up, doesn't he?? Not that you recognise it...

That little brain of yours just doesn't work...

But first, you’re going to sit there and show Mummy exactly what you do with those silly little fumbly hands. Go on—don’t be shy.

I want to watch you try and make cummies.

It’s adorable, really, how seriously you take it, like you actually know what you’re doing...

Oh and I’ll be stopping you when your breathing gets all funny and your little face goes all blushy...oh baby, you're just the cutest...

Don't worry, I'll be pointing out every little mistake, telling you to put more effort in for Mummy, setting the pace, maybe some words of encouragement—because clearly someone needs a lot of help!

Good thing Mummy’s here to teach you properly…I want 100% effort...as always.

Tell Mummy, on a scale of zero to five...how close are you to cummies?

Ohhh, only a 4.5?

...try harder for Mummy...

Faster.

Keep going baby...

That's my boy...⭐❤️

"Shoes off sweet boy," I said the moment he stepped in the door, it was late. "Phone on the shelf."

He sighed, taking his shoes off.

"Work's done, no need to think anymore, you're home."

It was an intense day, he looked exhausted- lost in that pretty little head...

"You didn't have time for lunch again", I said. Not a question. A fact.

"Mummy can tell..."

He shook his head. "My meetings ran over. I was going to, just grabbed something on the trai—"

"Shhhh", I cut in, soft but stern. "You're done making decisions. Bathroom. Now."

He didn’t argue. Just nodded, already unbuttoning his shirt as he headed up the stairs. I had the bath ready with his favourite bubbles. He paused when he saw it.

"Oh Mummy..."

“Let Mummy help you do a big boy peepee first..." —I stood behind him, my hips pressed against his back, my hands making my way round his waist, unbuttoning his fly as his trousers dropped to the floor...— "I take care of what’s mine, and you are mine." I whispered in his ear as my hands held him, his body relaxing into mine.

"Now, flush the toilet and get in the bath."

He did as he was told.

Once he was settled in the water, I sat on the edge of the bath and gently washed his face and hair, taking care to not get any soap in his eyes. I worked my way down his body, neck, shoulders, arms- washing away the day...

I watched as the assertive, directing man with never ending responsibilities slowly melted into my baby before my eyes.

He didn’t need to perform or initiate here, he needed to feel safe and protected. I took my time making sure he was clean and dry.

Then we brushed our teeth together, took my time applying baby lotion, talc, gently wrapping him in the biggest diapee I could find and my favourite tortoise pyjamas.

"Time for bed." I peeled back the sheets- he shuffled under, so sleepy...

"Come here Gorgeous boy" I whispered as I climbed into bed next to him, pulling him close to my chest and pushing his favourite dummy between his lips.

"You’ve done enough. Let Mummy take care of the rest."

Stroking his hair and covering his face with the tiniest kisses, I whispered: "I’m so proud of you, you know? You worked so hard today."

I held him a little tighter, letting my hand rest gently at the nape of his neck.

My strong, brilliant boy—peaceful in my arms, exactly where he belonged.

He was mine to guide. Mine to protect. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed to a rhythmic pace...

And now, finally, he could rest knowing he was safe, wrapped in Mummy's love...

❤️

"Have you had any water this morning?"

I ask the question softly, but my eyes lock onto his. I don’t look away. I watch him.

There it is—the flicker of guilt, the way his gaze flinches just slightly before that little crease forms between his brows.

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.

"Say it," I murmur.

"I… forgot," he admits, voice low. Shameful.

I take a step closer. "No. You ignored it. There’s a difference."

He opens his mouth—probably to argue—but I raise a brow. One slow lift, paired with unbroken eye contact, and he shuts it again.

"Water." I say, the word sharp as a command.

He grumbles something under his breath as he turns toward the sink, but he goes. I don’t even have to repeat myself.

He fills a glass and starts to drink.

"That’s one," I say smoothly. "Pour another. That attitude earned you extra."

He pauses mid-sip. "But Mummy I don't like water and I have lots of meetings this afternoon and I’ll have to pee..."

I walk up behind him, close enough that he can feel me behind him. My voice brushes his ear.

"And whose fault is that?" I ask, soft but firm. "Do you think being careless with your body doesn’t come with consequences? Remember how important your kidneys are."

He swallows. I don’t even have to see his face to know he’s blushing.

He starts pouring the second glass and turns around to look at me making my way over to the rug.

I point to the floor and he knows it's his cue to come and lay for changies.

"Can I just use the big boy toilet today?"

I remain silent as I kneel down and pull over his changing bag, open it and start to pull out what I need.

"This is non-negotiable, and I don’t want to hear another word about—"

I stop mid-sentence as I turn and see him.

He’s standing there, arms crossed, a little spark of defiance in his eyes—testing me.

I let the silence stretch.

I lock eyes with him.

"Come. Here. Now."

He doesn’t move. Stubborn boy...

"I'm not asking again."

His arms drop. His shoulders dip.

"Please, no diapees today...these meetings are important..."

His voice wavers—but it’s enough. I know what’s coming.

"But Mummmmy I don't wanna..."

Here he is.

My little whiney boy.

I say nothing. Just lift one eyebrow and point to the floor in front of me. One sharp, deliberate gesture.

His eyes widen, just for a second. A soft sigh leaves him, full of resistance he doesn’t have the strength to act on.

He drags his feet, slow and sulky, but I don’t move. I watch him.

Each reluctant step is a little surrender. A quiet admission.

When he finally reaches me and sinks to the floor, I let the silence hang.

"Look sweetie..."

I pull his dummy out of the bag and push it between his lips,

"...stop being such a fussy boy. You have said yourself that this afternoon is going to be busy, if you don't have to leave your computer to do pee pees it will be easier. Have we already forgotten our little accident the other day? 'Little Mr Leaky Pants"

I gently *boop* his nose with my index finger then yank down his trousers and 'big boy' pants.

"Bum up for Mummy"

He does as he is told and presses his hips into the air as I slide a fresh nappy under his butt and he starts to lower them...

"Nah uh, Keep them up now for Mummy."

His tear filled eyes watch as I reach into the bag and pull out a second diapee and position it on top of the first.

Some inaudible muffled words attempt to navigate his dummy but it's pointless, I can't understand him. Silly baby...

"Shhhh. No talkies. Two nappies for my fussy boy" I say as I open his legs and push his knees up to his chin... "Hold them up for Mummy"

Taking my time, I gently swirl cream around his cute little hole with my finger, smooth some talc in my favourite creases and carefully tape up both nappies.

One on top of the other.

I direct him as he reluctantly places a foot, one-by-one into the legs of his trousers and shuffle them up to his hips. It's a tight squeeze over all that padding.

"There. Now you're ready for your big boy meetings."

I reach out with both hands and I pull him to a seated position so his face meets mine.

He doesn’t resist. Just lets me guide him, pouting the whole way.

That little frowny forehead of his—creased in the middle like he’s trying to stay mad, trying to hold onto some tiny shred of pride.

I let my thumb brush over the wrinkle.

"Such a face," I murmur, as I lift his chin up with my hand, more amused than anything.

"You pout like you’re not the one who put yourself here..."

Come on baby, don't be shy...

...if you're a very good boy I'll let you feel how warm Mummy's Diapee is...