Football and Frills

My life is full of contradictions.  I spent much of my childhood collecting Barbies, wearing dresses, and dreaming up names for my future daughters (guess I jinxed myself on that one); yet, I also spent many hours sorting through my Batman comic books, playing with my Hot wheels, and bawling my eyes out while watching Rudy (a contradiction in itself considering that it's a sports movie).  I don't have one athletic bone in my body (ex. I was one of two girls cut from JV basketball.  Ouch.)  Despite that and despite the fact that on most occasions I would much rather find myself in a theatre than at a sporting event, football has always fascinated me.

So this past week, excitement buzzed through our little cottage, as the football season commenced.  The nagging has ceased, and peace has returned; instead of glaring icicles at Ben for his endless viewing of ESPN, I'm right there beside him, eager for the games' highlights.  And unlike most loving  parents, we're not talking about our children after they've gone to bed.  We're discussing our fantasy football lineups.

So for a few moments on fall Sunday afternoons, I will put my femininity aside while I energetically cheer on my players, yell at the slackers who dare to call themselves football stars, and jump around like a fool when my favorite teams make a touchdown.  And then I will remember who I am and return to the couch, curl up in my pink fuzzy blanket, put on my furry lamb slippers, and continue watching the game. 

My two future football waterboys (sorry boys, football is too dangerous to play for my little men):

 Hudson's like his Mom--he's not afraid to cheer quite vocally.

 Hudson, for the umpteenth time, stop tackling Corbin!!!