As well, inferences were made by another, who will not be identified, that Sweet Baboo is spoiled. I would be remiss to allow this to continue to remain in anyone's mind for very long.
Nor would it be fair for me to completely blame forgetfulness on Ironman training, particularly since I would like to announce publicly that the Baboo apparently did NOT forget me but instead was waiting for the weekend, at which point he purchased for me many birthday items of spring clothing that I was sorely wishing to have, having donated all my very old XL spring clothing to Goodwill last fall. (By the way, I'm happy to report that, in most aspects, my ass is now considered, at least by the clothing industry, to be medium-sized) But I digress.
The following is the list of Sweet Baboo's responsibilities, which is to say, these are the things that I miss when he is in his heavy training day fog:
- Launderer and clothes washer
- buyer of all things sparkly
- buyer of most things perfumey
- finder of My Lost Stuff
- Replacer of my Lost Stuff that Cannot Be Found
- junk-mail shredder
- pizza orderer
- Idea man for fun ideas of what to do now
- check-book balancer
- movie picker (most of the time)
- travel route planner and hotel reservations maker
- chief bread-winner
- scraper of all windshields icy
- fish feeder
- self-esteem booster
- investigator of future athletic gear purchases
- reminder of Things I Have Forgotten
- difficult jar and bottle opener
- getter of all things High and Out of My Reach
- main disciplinarian
and of course: eye candy.
In any case, it is precisely because the Baboo handles so much of life's niceties and removes the unpleasantries from my awareness that I do notice when he gets distracted. 99% of the time, I wonder through life in a nice little bubble knowing that there is insurance, triple-A, and a cell phone to protect me. I know the car will start, the lights will come on, the water will run, and the heat or a/c will work.
In my pre-Baboo life these things were taken care of by me and, I must say, not very well, either. I am, shall we say, a bit scattered at times. On more than one occasion the insurance lapsed and I couldn't afford my asthma medicine and the lights didn't come on because I forgot to pay the electric bill or I ran out of heating fuel and had to burn wood. When the electricity was cut off I would tell the kids we having a magic comping adventure...in the house. Anyway, all that is behind me now, thanks to Sweet Baboo. As a result, I have two periods in my life: PSB (pre-sweet baboo) and SSB (since sweet baboo).
And so for him I will cook large pots of food and try to have them ready as soon as is reasonably possible so that he doesn't have to start chewing on his clothes or eat one of the cats, and hug and kiss him no matter how sweaty he is. This summer I start my training, I'll be off work so I'll cook a lot in advance so that there's lots of food around for both of us so that we can both wonder about in a fog. Most of all, though, I'll make sure I can do what I can so that he can continue to hurl himself pell-mell through the world of ultra-endurance whatever, since it makes him happy. A happy sweet Baboo is the best sweet Baboo of all.