How bad is it if you re-neg on your marriage contract? Is it okay if it’s not in writing? What about if all you agreed to was to “love to ski” despite the ridiculous odds?
When I said “yes”, I couldn’t fathom that I would ever “love to ski.” I could see eventually getting down a blue without throwing a temper tantrum, but love doing it? No way.
His part of the deal was that I got to choose where our future kids went to school. More important. More practical. Much more expensive. But also more likely to be achieved.
Then we moved to Colorado.
I can now make it down most blues without cussing out my husband. I finally got ski pants that look okay, and I even wear a helmet. I discovered hand warmers.
I love the scenery. I love spending the day outside. I adore hanging out with my husband, and the fact that he always skis with me even though I slow him down. I like how rosy the kids’ cheeks get after time on the slopes. I love an après-ski Bud Light on a sunny afternoon, and the feeling that I survived the day. It amazes me that an entire day can go by, and not a thought enters my head expect getting down the mountain. Turn, ice patch, turn, lean forward, feel your shins on the front of your boot, turn, ice patch….BUMP!!!!!…phew.
I do still feel like I am going to puke on the chair lift. I can’t make it through a day on the slopes without yelling at another skier for skiing too fast or too close — road rage in the snow. I wish they would close the slopes to all other skiers but me. I would rather be drinking an après-beach Bud Light. I can’t sleep in the night preceding our first return to the slopes each winter. I dread it. I fear the mountain.
And then, deep breath, I have fun. Some of the greatest days are on my skis, though you would never guess it to see me flailing, grimacing, cussing, slowly making my way down the hill. But it’s true. I just may love to ski.
Marriage contract in tact.