<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d10770676\x26blogName\x3dTrepid+Archives\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://trepidarchives.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_CA\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://trepidarchives.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-8133002147563939824', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
Trepid Archives

Exciteable descriptions of a new life living in "The Best Place on Earth". The new template is more basic, more classy, tidier... so totally not me! 

Free Guestbook from Bravenet.com Free Guestbook from Bravenet.com
Monday, August 15, 2005

12:41 p.m. - Torn, segmented and stuck back together again.

There’s been a lot written about dual personalities recently so I’m jumping on the band wagon. I am usually two people.

I am an athlete. I am an athlete from Monday to Friday on my lunchbreaks and sometimes for an hour before and an hour after work. Occasionally I am an athlete at the weekend when my other persona shifts over and allows me to be an athlete.

I am also a wife. I am married to a man who does not support the athlete and the athlete does not support the wife because the athlete leaves the wife tired at the end of the day. The wife has jobs to do that she quite enjoys but the athlete does not approve of – like digging rocks out of the garden – because it repeatedly breaks the athlete so that it will not work on Monday morning.

In one perfect world I would be married to another athlete who would join me in being athletic and in being tired at the end of the day.

But the world is not perfect and I ask that if I were married to another athlete, would we get any of the good stuff done that hubby and I do? Hubby and I are making a great home and building and developing. Our asset is growing in value and our quality of life is improving in bounds as we go along this path.

In the other perfect world, the wife would come home at the end of the day, raring to go with laundry and cooking and being nice and hanging out with hubby. She wouldn’t disappear off on her own on weekends to do triathlons. She’d be strong enough to carry the couch up the stairs and probably be a bit fatter. Her temper would not be so short.

I know that my parents love athlete. They are proud of her. They also love wife. This is the job of parents. They love all the me’s.

Hubby prefers wife. He doesn’t really understand athlete, he just considers it a saving on the gas money when she uses her bike to go to work.

Cat likes wife – she gets fed earlier by wife and athlete usually drops food everywhere.

Wife smells better. Athlete is responsible for the way Wife looks. Wife feeds athlete (at least if she doesn’t, then husband is on hand). If it wasn’t for wife, athlete would be broke, because I think Wife is the one who goes to work. Certainly, wife is the one who saves money and athlete spends it.

So I have two mutually exclusive personas – tell me no-one else does.

This week I am also the evil Stepmonster. It is my bi-annual opportunity to mother someone. Not much, because he’s 14, but there is some affection there. In a poke in the ribs, a glass of orange juice poured from the fridge with ice cubes, a carefully made cup of tea, a question asked about a new discovery, a recipe taught.

Stepson will be with his dad all day every day this week. I am a welcome relief for both of them when I get home. A chance to stop being together and instead, share together in telling me about their day. It doesn’t matter how trivial a day it has been for them, there are adventures found in each trip into the city. Even if it’s just drinking a coffee and smelling the overdone perfume of the old lady on the next table or laughing at her weirdo dog, each moment shared is carefully recounted. Each orator falling over the other to get his version of the story in first.

On days like today the athlete fails. The athlete seizes on the first excuse in the book to get out of what it’s supposed to be doing, in favour of needing the car to stop at the winery to buy three tickets for the outdoor Shakespere production this evening (note to self: Must read up to appear knowledgeable on Merry Wives of Windsor). I could’ve sworn there were many things I had to do today – but they were all excuses. I don’t need the car to look up a bunch of stuff on the internet. In a last desperate attempt, the athlete packed her swim cap this morning but her goggles were still on the bedside table so no swimming either. Tonight I will be step mom and I will rush home to listen to tales of the blind-man (as in window blinds) in the hardware store and how many big rocks were added to the wall before the sun came over the house and I will enjoy every moment.

PS. Bizarely, stepson seems to like both me's. Wife's OK but athlete can answer questions about his bike and kick his ass in a tickling fight.

Blogger J.a.G. said...

You get to entertain a wider range of weirdo's, erm, people by being a split


Post a Comment

© Trepid Explorer 2005 - Powered for Blogger by Blogger Templates