Here's the deal. When I was in high school, I dated a guy who was on the wrestling team. I phrase it that way because he wasn't very good, so it wasn't like it was, "Oooooo, you date someone athletic!" No. So instead of going to football games and pep rallies, I went to gross, sweaty, weird wrestling matches where the guys rolled around in tight suits and groped each other. Um, yuck. I never once, nope, not even once, went to a football game. I ccouldn't even tell you if we had a winning season during any of my high school years.
Fast forward four years, and irony starts to take over. Those of you who knew Greg in high school would probably have called him the ultimate high school athlete. He played everything, was active in everything, and got good grades (yes...the complete opposite of unathletic, uninvolved me). When we started dating in college, I began to realize that this guy was a little different than the couple of guys I had dated before. And now? Yep, every Friday night, he's at a football game. The first couple of years, I went to every game, every scrimmage, and I sometimes drove hours to get there. I was the ultimate supportive wife. What happened? Life.
When I meet people for the first time and I tell them that my husband is a football coach, they respond by saying, "Oh! You must love football! I bet you and the girls have the best time on Friday nights! They're going to be cheerleaders aren't they????" Gag me with a spoon. I like football. I love my husband. The problem is trying to cope with a toddler and an asthmatic seven year old in the chilly, moist fall air for three hours. Those of you who have toddlers or asthmatic seven year olds will understand this (up to and including the respiratory issues we would deal with for the following week if Kiley was out there), and those who don't? Let me just get this off my chest. I do not hate football! I will not "learn to love it" because I already do! Someday, I will be able to go to the games and attempt to ignore the crazy idiots who yell obscenities at my underpaid and under appreciated husband, and maybe I'll even have a halfway decent time (with ear plugs and a filter on my mouth). In the meantime though, my Friday nights are filled with upacking bookbags and lunchboxes, feeding dogs, doing laundry, running bubble baths for the future cheer leaders, vacuuming, doing dishes, packing up dance bags for Saturday morning, cleaning, straightening the house, finding a missing ballet slipper, finding a pacifier, finding my sanity, did I mention vacuuming?
Right now, Friday nights are like my catch up time so that our weekends can be filled with time to enjoy each other rather than filled with the things on the list I just recited. So, to those of you who don't know me, don't assume I dislike football because I don't sit in the bleachers every Friday night.
Glad I could get that off my chest!
