There are, in every marriage, unwritten rules and quiet social contracts. They form over years of waltzing, fighting, making up, learning and unlearning, and every inward and outward experience and eventuality. They're threaded together with pet names, coded glances from across crowded rooms, a tilt of the head undetectable to all except your Other; they're knitted fiber by cord by strand into what, over the years, becomes your Us. Warts and all. There are two Eternal Promises which Cute Redhead and I hold close to our everlasting hearts. Here's mine: "I love you forever and a day. You have my heart. You are my ...
Do you know how many times I've tried to fix the stupid leaks that have tormented and taunted my already-feeble masculinity? Is there anything more lethal to the fragile Man Construct than a faucet bleeding his worth with each drip-drop-drip? For all its antagonism, I should have stayed around and watched its last moments. Handyman Man stood in the bathtub (in view) and saw the living Hell out of tile and paint and drywall with Some Tool which I don't know the name of but which I want (not in view). It had a blade as long as my arm and ...
"Sweetheart...it's time to get up, c'mon honey. Dad'll have your breakfast ready in a minute." "Morning, Miss Child. Let's go." "I know, baby. But you have to go to school." "Yes, I'll make sure the bacon is crispy. Now, come on kiddo." "Atta'girl, keep moving." "How 'bout daddy to starts your bath, baby doll." "...baby doll?"
Cute Redhead has been tolerant of me and The Rebel Force. I found her in a jovial and chirpy mood yesterday and decided a few snapshots were called for. She actually started laughing at me while I took the photos. And then she said, "Okay, that's enough." And I didn't think it was enough. And then she said, "Okay, stop taking pictures of me." And I didn't stop taking pictures of her. And then she did the thing I actually find hilarious. Here's a picture of her, caught in the act. I think this is hilarious because I've seen her do this a million times. This is what ...
We're underway, folks. We're about to pull the trigger and start the renovations and repairs on the bathrooms and the laundry room. See that little hand? That little hand is on that little hip and chock full of Manager Of Planet Earth. I know that hand. VERY. WELL. I would've just stood there beside her as we surveyed the hot water heater and the rest of the upcoming project, and left well enough alone. I would have just stood there and acted all understanding (about plumbing, not her) and insightful (about plumbing, NOT her), and confident (ABOUT PLUMBING, NOT HER) *sobs*... ...except ...
Please take a close look at that photo—but not too close because Cute Redhead just might sense you're gaze somewhere out there in the Universe and have a heart attack and die. And where she has some self-respect, I have...well...lol none. Because she would stand out in the middle of oncoming traffic before letting the world know that this is the state of one of the bathrooms. And it is. Now, before you dispatch the CDC to our house with orders to just set it on fire, let me explain a few things: First of all...we have three kids and are just ...
Okay, I hate to do this to you all again...but, trust me: this one wraps up with a little more substance than just torturing you one more time with the beef tenderloin and red wine reduction sauce. Which I made again. For the fifth time in less than a month. Because I am pathetic it's that good. But I need to back up and make good on a promise I mentioned a few weeks ago about a certain Big Fight me and Cute Redhead had over something soooOOOOooo stupid, and yet so important (more on that later). I've actually been keeping ...

To Waltz in Perdition is to understand this marriage and children thing long enough to realize it's a beautiful Hell: none of us knew what was coming. But, hopefully, we pause just enough to admit it's worth it.
All I know is that Male Limbic Brain deemed the stuff he was telling me Unnecessary Content and dumped it immediately.