Nearly every Sunday during (American) football season, my son’s friends fill my living room and watch the games together. Truth be told, I like it. I would like to have my living room to myself but seeing them enjoy each other is worth the bother.
Unlike other wives, I am not a football widow. I like the game and understand it. The Boy started playing when he was seven years old but my interest was piqued before that; long before that. I, gail of the great Atlantic northeast, am a Seattle Seahawks fan! Yup, the entire country stands between me and my team.
There is really no reason why I got into that other than Sundays in autumn are all about football. And church. Period. Also, I want to get some entries going.
Trying to figure what to write has been so difficult. Do you really want to hear about my tantrum last night when I couldn’t take what was going on any longer? Or about how I am disappointed that The Girl isn’t taking Isabella to the free special needs dance classes? Or that I am sleeping a lot, probably because of fibromyalgia and the stress of having to be up very early with Bells to get her ready for the school bus? Or that I need some time to myself and haven’t been getting it? That I need a visit with my bff in the worst way?
Why would you want to hear about any of that?! I don’t even want to hear about it. I am not liking myself very much right now but that will pass.
Let me leave you with this: foo do fa fa
Maybe you will forgive me when you can’t get this out of your head!