Mothers, PMS & Contact Sports

Moms go through a lot. OK, I know dads do too, but I'm a mom, and this is my blog (right PrissE?) One day I woke up, and I had a teenager. The funny thing is, I don't even remember when or how he got potty trained. I assume he is now, or school would be calling..... who understands this dilemma?

About this time last year, I realized that I was a reluctant football mom. It wasn't something I chose, but here I was, sitting in the stands rooting for my teenager on the field. I had horrible dreams about my BABY being injured on the playing field (thanks Mom). The memory of Jag's first game is a blurr of teenagers, PMS and contact sports. It was also an 'away' game, so we ended up driving a very long way in a pouring storm.

I reluctantly told my story the next day, it went a little something like this:

Amy: How did the game go last night? Did Jag have fun rolling around in the mud?

Me: He loved it, but I'm completely worn out, and I now believe there are some things mom's shouldn't have to go through! For the record..... a mom shouldn't have to watch her BABY play in his FIRST football game on the same day she starts her period..... AND, on that same day, there shouldn't be any sort of scary drive home in the dark, on flooded, vacant highways...... ALSO, she shouldn't have to wait in the dark car, listening to the rain pitter patter down on the car waiting for previously mentioned BABY to return home from his FIRST out of town bus trip with the football team. When he arrives home, she shouldn't have to watch him exit the bus, take care of all his responsibilities, by himself, then enter the car only to have the absolute most excited face I've ever seen before.... then, previously mentioned crazy mother has to listen to him tell all about the grand adventure the evening just was, and what a marvelous time he had...... all that is too much for one insane mother, who swears that just yesterday, that BABY was wearing corrective shoes and climbing on a fireplace..... what has happened?

For the record, when Jag entered the game to actually PLAY, I did not throw up, nor surge the field... I was totally calm and didn't even need peanut m&m's to make it through.

Here's a pic (he's #44):


That story is funny to me now, only because I discovered it's pretty fun being a football mom. As it turns out, teenage boys only play other teenage boys, not professional NFL players.... thus, allowing the 'contact' part of the sport to be equal (or mostly). Cheering in the stands actually is fun, and boys love to play football! (at least, my boys do) Thankfully, injuries have been few and far between. I still worry a little bit, but nothing a hysterectomy couldn't cure. Hormones are not for the faint of heart.

I know you must be wondering about Amy, my friend...... I'm going to spill the beans on her soon! There will be a picture. Hide now, my friend, while you can.... soon, your secrets will be out! Ok, maybe not real secrets, but some funny stories, that's for sure!