It's that time of year again. The air is a little crisper (high 90s, instead of 110s), the leaves are changing (not really...we just have cacti out here), and there is the sound of grown men hitting each other in pursuit of a small brown ball in high-def. Yes, it is officially football season in our household.
Before I met Brian, I really didn't think people watched football anymore. I remember they brought Dennis Miller on Monday Night Football as a commentator, and I thought it was because viewership was down. As in, the sport was on its way out. But then I moved to Vegas and met my soon-to-be husband. It was the week after the Packers lost to...someone...and Brian almost didn't come to our first date since he was still in mourning. (true story). I didn't realize it at the time, but I had the longest amount of time possible between the end of football season and the start of football season, giving myself plenty of time to fall in love with Brian without REALLY knowing his true personality. Which quickly emerged at the first kick-off in early September 2002. And then I realized...he's an addict.
I've tried to get into football. Really. I even played fantasy football for one year (through his firm. It's like the national sport there). After drafting a defense in the third round and being laughed at the entire season, I quit. I turned my attention to hosting football gatherings - if I busied myself in the kitchen, maybe I could stay busy while still watching the game. When we went to sports bars to watch the game, I found myself grabbing the paper...or a magazine...or a book...and my phone...before we left, just in case I got bored halfway through the game. And as much as I tried, I just never really got into it.
I knew Brian was especially excited about this football season, and was pleased that Scotty 1.) managed to come before the start of his fantasy football draft (both leagues...he dropped the third one this year), and 2.) wasn't born on a Sunday in September, since I really didn't want to find out who Brian would pick - me or the Packers. Thankfully, it never came down to that. And, best of all -- we had added another Packer fan to the family. Not through conversion, but through breeding.
(ironically enough, Kelly's husband Jake is also a die-hard Packer fan with Wisconsin roots. This is especially devastating to my Bears-loving father. Both of his daughters married Packer fans. And yes, Ben is being raised as a Packer).
But imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning only to find Brian and Scotty both downstairs by 8am. I thought to myself, "Oh, that's cute. Brian is getting the baby ready." And he was. He had the bottle out, the diaper changed, and Scotty's football onesie laid on the couch. Mind you, Brian has not seemed concerned about Scotty's wardrobe to date so far - yet he was very clear about his wishes this morning. He had to wear the football onesie and he had to have it on before the first game. And then when Scotty spit-up on his onesie half-way through the Seahawks game, Brian and my mom dressed Scotty in his official Packer onesie (just in time for the Packer game). Seriously adorable.
We all kind of held our breath when we put the Packer onesie on Scotty - was he going to scream his head off, ensuring a tough season (and potentially some genetic Bears allegiance?), or would he be a content little baby, highlighting his Packers loyalty and the possibility of a winning season? Well, it all worked out - there was a little bit of fussing, but one warm bottle of milk and a nice tight swaddle later, Scotty has sound asleep in my arms for the duration of the football game.
And thank goodness. Because when Aaron Rodgers threw the game winning touch-down pass to Greg Jennings, Brian lept so high in the air (and then came down and smacked the ottoman) that had he had child in his arms, it would have meant serious bodily harm for both.
Only fifteen games left.
In other news, I missed both Mad Men AND the season finale of True Blood so all the men could watch football tonight. We are the newest members of the Direct TV family, so they are taped but I have no idea how to access them. Maybe next week I'll learn how to work the TV again.
And thank you to everyone for your kind emails, comments, and messages about Emma. I still cannot (and will not, very strange for me) talk about it. I can write about it, but I can't talk about it. Just not yet. I have learned that denial and avoidance are actually really terrific coping skills (oh, where have my therapeutic roots gone?) and I plan to avoid and deny much about that subject for as long as possible. So, if you know me in real life (where are these 800+ readers coming from? Seriously, I'm flattered, but I know I don't have 800 friends), please don't ask about it. Just not yet.
Before I met Brian, I really didn't think people watched football anymore. I remember they brought Dennis Miller on Monday Night Football as a commentator, and I thought it was because viewership was down. As in, the sport was on its way out. But then I moved to Vegas and met my soon-to-be husband. It was the week after the Packers lost to...someone...and Brian almost didn't come to our first date since he was still in mourning. (true story). I didn't realize it at the time, but I had the longest amount of time possible between the end of football season and the start of football season, giving myself plenty of time to fall in love with Brian without REALLY knowing his true personality. Which quickly emerged at the first kick-off in early September 2002. And then I realized...he's an addict.
I've tried to get into football. Really. I even played fantasy football for one year (through his firm. It's like the national sport there). After drafting a defense in the third round and being laughed at the entire season, I quit. I turned my attention to hosting football gatherings - if I busied myself in the kitchen, maybe I could stay busy while still watching the game. When we went to sports bars to watch the game, I found myself grabbing the paper...or a magazine...or a book...and my phone...before we left, just in case I got bored halfway through the game. And as much as I tried, I just never really got into it.
I knew Brian was especially excited about this football season, and was pleased that Scotty 1.) managed to come before the start of his fantasy football draft (both leagues...he dropped the third one this year), and 2.) wasn't born on a Sunday in September, since I really didn't want to find out who Brian would pick - me or the Packers. Thankfully, it never came down to that. And, best of all -- we had added another Packer fan to the family. Not through conversion, but through breeding.
(ironically enough, Kelly's husband Jake is also a die-hard Packer fan with Wisconsin roots. This is especially devastating to my Bears-loving father. Both of his daughters married Packer fans. And yes, Ben is being raised as a Packer).
But imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning only to find Brian and Scotty both downstairs by 8am. I thought to myself, "Oh, that's cute. Brian is getting the baby ready." And he was. He had the bottle out, the diaper changed, and Scotty's football onesie laid on the couch. Mind you, Brian has not seemed concerned about Scotty's wardrobe to date so far - yet he was very clear about his wishes this morning. He had to wear the football onesie and he had to have it on before the first game. And then when Scotty spit-up on his onesie half-way through the Seahawks game, Brian and my mom dressed Scotty in his official Packer onesie (just in time for the Packer game). Seriously adorable.
We all kind of held our breath when we put the Packer onesie on Scotty - was he going to scream his head off, ensuring a tough season (and potentially some genetic Bears allegiance?), or would he be a content little baby, highlighting his Packers loyalty and the possibility of a winning season? Well, it all worked out - there was a little bit of fussing, but one warm bottle of milk and a nice tight swaddle later, Scotty has sound asleep in my arms for the duration of the football game.
And thank goodness. Because when Aaron Rodgers threw the game winning touch-down pass to Greg Jennings, Brian lept so high in the air (and then came down and smacked the ottoman) that had he had child in his arms, it would have meant serious bodily harm for both.
Only fifteen games left.
In other news, I missed both Mad Men AND the season finale of True Blood so all the men could watch football tonight. We are the newest members of the Direct TV family, so they are taped but I have no idea how to access them. Maybe next week I'll learn how to work the TV again.
And thank you to everyone for your kind emails, comments, and messages about Emma. I still cannot (and will not, very strange for me) talk about it. I can write about it, but I can't talk about it. Just not yet. I have learned that denial and avoidance are actually really terrific coping skills (oh, where have my therapeutic roots gone?) and I plan to avoid and deny much about that subject for as long as possible. So, if you know me in real life (where are these 800+ readers coming from? Seriously, I'm flattered, but I know I don't have 800 friends), please don't ask about it. Just not yet.
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