Football. The End.

We go through this every year.  We can usually get through January just fine, and maybe a couple of weeks in February, but after that the ripples start cutting the surface of the water.

The piranhas are beginning their circle.

It's slow at first.  Small.  I'll start feeling it when I'm walking through the hall at my kids' school.  Then again when we're at the park.  Its even been known to show up at the grocery store.

I dodge it as best I can.  Avoiding eye contact.  Finding something really interesting on the ground to look at.  Pretending to be totally confused by whatever list I happen to have in my hand.

(Let's see.....What's on sale?)
(Uhhhh...was that the white or the dark?)
(How many different types of nails could there be?)
  
But, it doesn't matter.   It never works.  They can smell the blood the minute I enter the building.

It usually starts with some mindless chit chat about crap I don't give a rip about,

(small talk is not my superpower)

and despite my stellar attempts to feign interest, we end up with a lull in the conversation.

Then with a head tilt and a voice lilt the dreaded question rears it's gi-normously wretched PTA-mom head:

So....are your kids playing any sports this spring?

That sound you just heard was my inner core exploding and oozing slowly out of my ears.

The only questions that are more gaggy are

Did you get on the scale today?
How much did you spend?
Where is that thing that I haven't thought about in the last 26 years, but could really use right now?
(because the answer is:  I threw it away last week.)
(Every time.  Every.  Time.)
 
See, here's the thing:

We play football.  The End.

Football is a punch you in the junk, rip out your throat, Every. Freakin'. Day. onslaught of never-ending practice and laundry and bureaucratic garbage that lasts from the beginning of August all the way through to the middle of November.

And it's not just football, either.  It's cheer now, too, with Competition, which, actually, technically, outlasts football.

Eet's niyghts, weeeekendz, hahlidays.

(wait...that might be Kindergarten Cop...)

It's two kids, with two activity schedules, going in two different directions, with 147 pieces of equipment that all has to be hand washed in Moroccan oil and hung to dry over a field of butterflies so it doesn't shrink or pill or wrinkle or melt or fade which would make the coach look so so bad,

for three and half months, which doesn't sound like a long time, but it's really almost 33% of the year.

Imagine not Facebooking for 33% of the year.

Or not driving your car for 33% of the year.

Or not having to hose chicken crap off the back deck because Prince Farming says free ranging is soooo way cool for 33% of the year.

That last one might only apply to me.  I don't know.  It actually doesn't sound too bad, now that I think about it.

My point is 33% of the year is a long time.

And it is all we can do to get through it without being banned from practice for fighting

(Prince Charming)
(bet that coach didn't think you were so charming, huh?)

or ostracized by an 11 year old for critiquing my daughter's sloopy arms

("It's hard to be the base, isn't it?  I know.  You're doing great!")
(You know what!?  Little ponytail...swisher.  I had....a....My team got Superior!  Okay?  Twice.  I know what I'm talking about.)
(And drill is not that different from cheer.)
(except that it is and drill rules all)

or discouraged from taking pictures by the president of the league because he said some parents last year complained even though no one ever said anything to us except, "Wow!  We love those pictures!" and "Be sure to get my kid in there!" and "How can I get a copy of that?"

(It's fine, really.  I'm over it.)

By Thanksgiving we're all on the floor with our tongues hanging out muttering,

"Remember this next year.  Remember this next year."

So, the idea of climbing back on the baseball or soccer or ballet or track or, truly, any spring bandwagon that doesn't involve 3 glasses of wine and a good Netflix line up is really not on our radar.

Although, I usually just shake my head and say something like,

"Oh yeah...no.  We're taking a break this year,"

and then find something really interesting on the ground to look at.