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The Longest Season EVER


I’m a boy mom, so it’s a no-brainer that football season is hands-down my favorite time of the year. When August rolls around, my family gets super excited. The boys start practicing with their teams, they plot out accessories to wear (like visors and arm sleeves), and even begin taking bets on who’s “starting” and in what position. “LET’S GO!!” is often randomly shouted around the house, for no apparent reason at all, and the energy is definitely contagious. As a football mom, I’m referring to my email updates and inputting all games into our family calendar. I’m attending booster meetings, fundraising like there’s a commission, and spending a small fortune on mom apparel. Varday is a big football guy, so of course, he too is in his glory come August. Football runs DEEP in the blood over here.


August, September, and October have passed, and now... it’s November. And, just like any other favorite season (pumpkin season, Christmas season), football season has really run it’s course. A good thing becomes: too much of a good thing. We went from crisp air to frost bite. The emails for the Sign Up Geniuses are now out-of-control! No, I don’t want to man the gate and give out programs, I actually want to be able to put groceries in my trunk again. I’m sick of the turf crumbs scattered throughout my house like Little Red Riding Hood has been through here. Furthermore, this “fall sport” is cutting into wrestling season, and my kid keeps fumbling the damn ball.

I don’t want to be THAT parent hoping for an “L” in playoffs, but ummm… what ARE your chances of winning this next game? -asking for a friend.

This year, we started out with five kids on six different football teams. My freshman’s season has ended, and my two little leaguers finished last week in the LAFA Championship. The last men standing are my senior, who is in the playoffs, and my sophomore, who is also in the playoffs at a different school.


Just as I’m wrapping my head around the layers of clothing that Davis and I will need for this weekend’s playoff games, we get an email: “Your son has been selected for the LAFA (little league) Turkey bowl…”


What?! Are you kidding me?

Let my people go!

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