Football is a BIG DEAL at The Wright Place. Every year.
Every year including the year that Molly was born on the Thursday before the Saturday that marked the season's start. (The doctor performing the C-section was actually talking football with the nurses in the operating room. I felt right at home.) We watched football in my hospital room that Saturday.
I simply can't wait for football season to start. Except for maybe this year.
This year is different. This year my son joins the ranks of tackle football players everywhere. It is for this reason alone that my eagerness for football season to begin is less than fervent. The games take place on Saturdays for the next 2 months and though I can't wait to see him playing, I can wait to see him on the bottom of a pile or on the receiving end of a "slobber-knocker". I'd rather watch someone else's boy on a football field on tv. In fact, I place quite a lot of import on someone else's boys showing up to entertain me every Saturday on the ole' gridiron while I eat my nachos in front of the tv. I have no lack of confidence in the ability of someone else's boys to take the physical challenges associated with my favorite sport.
This season it's to be my boy out there on the field and I'm reluctant. This is my first season as the mother of a tacklee, the mother of the kid at the bottom of the pile, the mother who knows that some of her boy's dreams are on the line this first season. I really would have preferred this particular football season to have arrived much more slowly. It didn't and it's here and we've been trying to get ready for it.
My Man has been overseeing Cole's pre-conditioning workouts of push-ups, pull-ups, running sprints, running longer distances, sit-ups and other sweat-inducing exercises. Cole's sisters have been roughing him up on the sly because they have been getting away with it. They've been getting away with it because when he complains about their harsh treatment of him, I give him a level look and say, "If you can't handle what your little sisters dish out, how are you going to survive on the football field?" Poor guy.
"Voluntary Conditioning" has begun for the boys on Cole's team. He had "conditioning" last night. You may have heard the angels singing last night and didn't know why. It was because helmets were distributed to each player. Real helmets. Helmets with "twenty pads in them, Mom!" (What kind of sport requires 20 pads securing one's skull and its contents???) I was out until after Cole was in bed on helmet distribution night so this morning, first thing, Cole introduced me to his helmet and gave me a tour. I know about the face mask of the helmet and about the face masks of most of the other player's helmets, I know that the chin strap gives my boy some difficulty, and I know that that helmet made his week.
How do I know?
After breakfast, I asked Cole to unload the dishwasher. I entered the kitchen a few minutes later to check on his progress and ...
...I'm wondering what will happen when they hand out the shoulder pads??