I pondered, and daydreamed and navel dug and then heard this: “Hey fatmouth? When do you EVER bite your tongue?”

Man, that inner voice is a royal bitch. Seriously.

So my twist? the one thing I’m wishing I never said…Yes.

Should I be dramatic here and say that it was a yes to a proposal? Because I could tell that story too but meh, its not funny and telling it doesn’t relieve some angsty need of mine so why bore you, right?

No, my fat mouth got me in trouble very recently. I said yes to the house. THE HOUSE.

Adonis is a house hunter and a shopaholic. He LOVES to shop and LOVES to look at houses. And usually, I’m right there with him. But not this time. After 3 months of hunting last winter and another month of it earlier this year, I was done. Dragging the kids around, especially when The Dude HATES being in the car, was killing me. Taking time off work wasn’t making big points either.

So yeah, I was done. Up to my eyeballs in tired.

And then we walked into THE HOUSE.

And I caved.

I said, “Sure, if you want it, sure.”

I said those stupid fucking words without seeing the whole house, without seeing the lack of yard, without scoping out daycares and doing a real time commute.

And I said those words only hours before Adonis’ busy season would start with a vengeance. A busy season that robs our kids of their dad for 6 out of 7 days for 11 weeks. A busy season that robs me of my husband. A busy season that started with The Dude crawling and The Mad with a ridiculous pacifier addiction to kick.

I won’t share with you the evil, spiteful, malicious words we hurled at each other. I won’t share with you the hours I’ve spent crying.  I won’t share with you the bile that sours in my stomach.

And I pray, I pray that my stupid words don’t lead to one more hideous, implacable, heartbreaking word.

Reaching for her tattered robe she bites her lip, stubbing her bruised toe on the  forgotten toy in her path. She holds her breath beside his crib. He had been sick, fever, sniffles. He was still just an infant, not yet ready to fight the battle of the blankets and soft toys he wrapped himself into.

Touching him, feeling his face, a rush of air escapes. He is only warm.

Carefully she closes his bedroom door and makes her way to his sister’s bed. A kiss on the forehead, a pull of the blanket and another door is closed.

One more stop to fill the cats’ bowls and she returns to her bed.

Sleep, glorious sleep. With a sigh she surrenders to her love.

Or maybe pause before someone else eats the last of the guacamole… I’s gotta get mine!

Or maybe a pause before I …whooops sell Adonis’ wool rug for $50.

Or I might be hoping for a pause before I move away from my adorable first home, my sweet little cottage with its wonderful fruitful backyard and generous and loving neighbors.

Or I may be reaching for that magic remote to keep The Mad from running headlong into my pelvic bone, AGAIN.

Or I may be whispering that to the universe as The Dude desperately tries to grow up way too fast before my eyes.

But for sure I’m pushing pause here. My hot and hard working bean-counting Adonis has started his busy season. He’s working nights and Saturdays. And I’m doing everything in my power to keep my brain together, pack the house for our move at the end of the month and soak up every moment I can with my darling children …while I still like them.

So, while I may pin, tweet and stumble and face palm on the boss’ dollar (sssshhhh), I won’t have the time or brain capacity to be here. Well, unless the Dude does something so incredibly cute that I can’t resist sharing, of course.

See ya ’round the interwebs, my friends.

So my Maddy is no different. Her speech development had been a bit of a challenge for us. Due to multiple ear infections as an infant, she missed hearing so many sounds just as she was learning to speak. And while her receptive language (the stuff she understands) is quite expansive, her expressed or spoken language is lagging.

One of her first words was for cat. We have three of them so it would have been more surprising if she DIDN’T have a word for them. Her word: titty. Yeah, she makes me proud.

We’ve always used the proper words for things, not making up funny names based on one of her mispronunciations.  (Not at all like my sister who would call my brother Brandon, Biddle. Christopher was Cridofer. Phillip was Luppy And we all called them that for years. Adonis’s niece couldn’t say Uncle so she said Ucky. I like her SO much.) So Maddy, this delightful child of mine didn’t learn to say her K sounds, I didn’t worry, figuring we’d be able to figure what she was saying.  Well, she doesn’t always put the last sound or letter on a word either. Do you have any idea what “UH” is for? Yeah, me either.

Another sound she doesn’t say AT ALL is the L sound. And its cute. She says she YOVES me and “Me no YIKE dat.” When she wants to put on her nighttime panties, she sounds like she’s talking about a city in Washington : Puhyups.  Another example: one of her favorite summer time treats are blueberries or booberries. Though booberies could be referring to my nipples. And yeah, I’m just gonna leave that one out there.

Rather than make a big deal over her mispronunciations, I’ve sort of encouraged her creative side, I hope. See, I have a mother who was sort of clever like that. She would change the words to West Side Story’s “Tonight” to Tuna. Its what was for dinner. Yeah.

Maddy got fixated on Superman a few months ago. At bedtime I would read her a few stories, maybe make one up and then kiss her goodnight. She would then ask that Adonis come in and tell her a Superman or “Bad Guy” story. I used to whisper to her as I left the room “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” But soon it became, “Don’t let the Bad Guys bite.” It would send her into a fit of giggles. Also there was “don’t let the Booberries fight.” Sometimes I couldn’t even say the right words if I tried. And she would always correct me.

Last night, we read a couple of books about a silly old bear. We both enjoyed the tale of his springtime hunger and his eating everything in sight. Of course it ended with him unable to fit back into his cave. Cute. So when I was leaving the room, without any forethought, I whispered, “Don’t lick the big bear’s butt.”

Um. Yeah.

I love posting here at the Mad Woman’s place . . . see, there is absolutely nothing that is off-topic. Well, a post about dealing with scrotum chafing, post marathon, might not be geared toward her target audience . . . but, most anything I’d write is “fair game.”

This blog isn’t, exactly, shy on the sex talk. So, I thought I’d write about the time, when I was in 8th grade, that I played bass for “No No Nanette” at an all-girl’s Catholic school, fell asleep in a dressing room before matinee & evening performances, and woke up to a discussion of three junior girls talking about sex¹. Alas, I don’t think many here need to figure out where to buy a vibrator, or how to hide a vibrator, or condoms, from their parents, and there’s no small percentage of the audience who are disappointed when their period hits after having sex . . . and I highly doubt that anyone here would drink Zima, so, I fear recalling that moment just wouldn’t make for a very good post.

Her blog is a parenting blog – so I thought I’d post about the fact that my daughter has taken to eating dog food. But, there’s not much more to that story than just that.

Her blog can inspire you to want to go out & run triple-Iron-Mans (if only to catch a glimpse of a lot of cute asses along the way), but I’ve had a lot of trouble wrapping up my pep talk posts. And while we know that I can be quite wordy, it’s no fun to start something and not finish.

Her blog can wax poetic and make us want to embrace life – so I thought about the moment when I first held my son, or when my mother’s father, who I saw seldom, and spoke with even more seldom, pulled me aside & said “you’re my oldest grandson, and I wanted to know that I’m proud of you.” But, well, those posts take a long time to write – I get very particular about every word, and rewrite huge portions of them . . . and I love posting here so much that I don’t know if I have the patience to actually work through one of those posts at this moment.

So, I’ve decided to write about a passion, one which belongs here. See, it’s cold outside where I am. But that doesn’t mean that this passion is, ever far from my mind. There are few words that sound sweeter than “pitchers & catchers report” to these ears of mine. The feeling of a leather glove covering my left hand is delightful. The smell of pine tar always brings a smile to my face. There is no refreshment like a cold beer on a hot day as you keep score.

Oh, and I once received a blow job, during a rain delay, at Shea stadium².

There is no feeling like the feeling of truly connecting with a wooden bat against a pitched ball. The *thud* that sticks in your hands for just a moment, before reverberating throughout your body. The trajectory that the ball takes as it leaves the bat, and then becomes so small that you can’t see it. If that feeling could be bottled, it’d be more addictive than crystal meth.

I’ve worn cleat marks from a failed collision at home plate as a trophy³ I’ve felt a packed crowd will a pulled-ball fair and over the fence. I’ve held my breath watching a runner break for second base.

I can’t wait to sit down & teach my kids how to keep score (this may be the one relic that I’ll always want to do with paper & pencil, even if technology provides alternate methods), to tell them about the time I saw Barry Bonds hit a homerun, before he was a steroid-freak, or when I heckled encouraged one of the nicest baseball players to ever step on the diamond to hit a homerun⁴.

My idea of a perfect summer is to start in Miami and then bicycle from city to city, taking in a game in every stadium, stopping at minor league parks when I’m between major league cities.

The geek in me loves the power of numbers within baseball . . . the young me would spend hours collecting & calculating statistics for rotisserie baseball. The modern me loves comparing players past & present.

I hate the DH, unless I’ve been drinking, where I kind of love a hired assassin.

I’ll wake up at the butt-crack of dawn to watch season openers in Japan, or World Classic ballgames. Heck, I used to take the first day of the season off as a “floating holiday.”

Oh, how I love me some baseball.

So when I saw that Nichole had posted this beautiful looking recipe yesterday, I knew I had to try it and I knew it would be good. Love you girl! And yes, yes it was.

I'm off to a good start, right? Except for the picture quality. Shut up.

This looks grosser than it was.

Wow, that was easy.

You were a good plant, but now you must say goodbye.

I may have been singing "choppin' broccoli"

Oh yeah, baby. YUM. MMY

As a footnote, let me add, my daughter, a NOTORIOUS picky eater, CLEANED HER PLATE!!!!! This is going straight to my short list of favorite and easy meals. Now if someone could tell me how to make my rosemary grow faster.

Second footnote: I’m big time disappointed that I wasn’t able to try Rachel’s pick for an accompanying wine. Next time *crossing fingers.

Sadly, another house, just down the street has come available and you can bet your bottom dollar Adonis was all over it. And this time, we have the financing and the need.

And now I’m sad because we’re moving away from friends, PERFECT childcare and into a house I don’t love. Fuck me.

PS I’ve edited the original post to reflect the new house.

Yesterday I mentioned Adonis had a big hard on over this house that we just had to see.

Well we saw it.

Meh.

And it’s beige.

He loved it.

Apparently it was bank-owned and then bought up by an investment group to flip.  It’s got travertine tile in the kitchen, breakfast area, dining room and all the bathrooms.  Schmancy faux wood flooring thru the front living room and entire upstairs.  Granite countertops in the kitchen and bathrooms.  Jacuzzi tub and glass enclosed shower.  Fireplaces in the front room, family room and master.  Big fat white columns throughout.

And beige paint on EVERY wall.  Same damn shade throughout.

I hated it.

It’s done.  Even down to the little vegetable bed.  The tomatoes are already in the ground!

Do I sound like a spoiled brat?  Ungrateful?

There is almost NO room for me to put my stamp on things.  No place where I can make it my own.

The hubs loves the openness of it, all the space (3200 some square feet.)  But I walked around thinking, “well if I have all this space, why isn’t there a space for me and my junk?  A place where I can spread out and stick a needle thru my finger while trying to relearn how to sew or where I can spill glue all over the place while decoupaging a free form piece of art?  A place to express myself.

Oh yes, dear readers, I am aware that I have this little plot of bandwidth and I am grateful.

But what to do with the rest of these creative juices?  Do I set up shop in the garage?  Make my poor guest have to shove my multiple idea boards off the bed in the guest room?  Do I turn that most useless, waste of space vanity in the monstrous bathroom into my desk?

To add insult to injury, my commute will go from a happy 20 minutes each way (along a gorgeous stretch of truck-free freeway bordered w/ always blooming trees and shrubs) to 35 minutes each way, mostly on a massive 8 laner full of 18 wheelers.

So, do I break my hubs heart over this house or buck up and suck it up?  He did buy me this little darling that we’re in now and I’ve had the sweet commute for 7 years.

And if you want to reach thru the interweb and smack me, I get it.

Adonis says:
This morning (at Maddy’s preschool) a girl asked her mommy “who’s that?”. She says “That’s a daddy.” “A handsome daddy?” Mommy looks up, “Yep, that’s a handsome daddy.”

I say:
Did you see the dude? Can you get me his number?

Adonis says:
*510-555-4512

I say
Yeah, thats the bogus number I use when I don’t want to take calls too.

*OBVS I’m not posting my real number.

As you’ve noticed, prior to this week I’ve been pretty scarce around here. Work and kids have left little time and mental energy for my little happy place (that’s RIGHT HERE, in case you were wondering). So to fill in the gaps while I’m trying to get my S#&T together, I thought up a new series, Words from Woodies. Posts from all my favorite men of the blogosphere. Genius, ain’t it?

To kick things off, we have Tim from Soge Shirts. You all know him and his clever shirts. He’s also one of the most supportive tweeters out there. Tim is helping his brother promote a new website which I think is all kinds of cool. Check out the inaugural WFW post from Tim and read on to find out more about Dave’s new project.

Oh?- This first word is used by guys especially when responding to women’s texts. In fact my girlfriend’s mom got an oh text from her boyfriend and asked me what it meant. In her original text she told him that we were at Disneyland. I told her the Oh was guy speak for Oh that is cool and also that he hates texting. Short one word answers from a guy always mean he hates texting. If he says oh on a phone call he also hates phone calls. Do not interpret this as that they don’t care. Us guys don’t have a lot to say sometimes so we worry that we will run out of things to talk about when you come home.

I’m going for a walk- This means I need to get out of the house for awhile. You may also notice they get in their car and drive somewhere. Technically though they will have to walk eventually so it wasn’t a lie.

I’m watching the game- Not a smart phrase for a guy to use. I’ve used it before and it is usually followed by the “I’m fine” counterattack. Tivo can be a magical thing. Miss a few plays and pause the game fellas to avoid a fight.

I’ll do it in a bit- This means we might do something you ladies asked us in the next week or two. This is a favorite of mine when my lady asks me to take the trash out.

Huh? or What?- Sometimes us guys have short attention spans. New technology like phones that enable us to check the score of a game during a conversation may lead to this phrase quite a bit. Basically we weren’t listening.

I’ll do it myself- This is not a good phrase to hear especially if it comes to fixing something like the toilet. Basically we have a giant ego and don’t want to ask for help from anyone. Unless we are really handy that 150 dollar bill is about to turn into a $1150 dollar bill. Help us save face by calling a professional immediately.

You can’t be serious- Something annoying or unfortunate happened and instead of accepting reality we’d rather counter with a rhetorical question.

Did somebody say bacon?- We like bacon.

Thanks Tim, that really clears things up for us!  Heh.

And now the exciting stuff for those of you who dream of being the next big thing or just want to work on your skills:

Interactivemusicteacher.com offers live online music classes for drummers, bass players, guitarists, and in the future voice/piano. The courses that they offer currently are free 10 week courses geared towards the absolute beginner. If you just got a drum set, bass, or guitar you can visit the website and start playing from day one.

All the classes are streamed live in HD, then later archived so students never miss any material. You can ask your teacher questions and get responses in real time, via the chat feature. Pre-recorded tutorials are offered as well, so players can work on a specific topic without having to sign up to a whole course. Free lessons, articles, and guest posts from accomplished musicians are posted on the blog. Here’s the latest funny vlog post from the bass teacher Josh Fossgreen  http://interactivemusicteacher.com/blog/2012/01/16/dont-stop-believin-bass-party-trick/ .