Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Is it football season ... again??? Already???

It is that time of year again.



It happens each and every year.

From Labor Day weekend.

To Super Bowl Sunday. 

During this time frame ... my husbands is no longer the man I married.

Things happen to him ... that I can not really explain.

His body swells up ... right before my very eyes.

That's right!

You read correctly.

He swells up.

Plain and simple.

It has nothing to do with my "hidden" cooking abilities or my mad skills of being able to order carry out. 
His stomach swells up due to the the large amount of beer that is consumed while watching football. 

For reasons that I have yet to come to understand ... beer and football MUST be put together in the same sentence.  If not ... the world could come to an end just as we know it. 

Thank you Clint ... for yet again ... saving the world with your beer drinking ... football watching ... abilities! 

You are my hero!

His chest swells up, too. 
Not because he was stung my a wasp and is having a horrible reaction.  
But because his team won! 
Which ... according to him ...
They "kick some ass" often over the season. 
His head swells up to the size of a hot air balloon, too. 
No kidding! 
You have to see it to believe it. 
His head swells up with pride.
Suddenly "I" becomes "we". 
You know ... as in "We won!" 
Clint is normally this layed back man ... who takes life day by day.  He seldom gets mad at me.  Seldom raises his voice at the kids. 
BUT ... in a blink of an eye ... Clint can turn into a CRAZY ASS FOOL when his beloved Chicago Bears or Kansas Jayhawks do not do that well. 
Or ... as "Coach Moore" would say ... "they did not play to their potential."  AKA:  They lost. 
But ... on the flip side of it. 
If his team plays "like the team that he knows they can be" and lives up to his expectation.
AKA:  They won. 
Fist are pumped in the air, beer gets spilled on my carpet, cigares are smoked. 
Diginity flies out the window ...
Along with a wide variety of hoots and hollars and whistles and sounds that I have yet to figure out. 
All the while ...
Lucy (our dog) and Izzabell (our cat) are nuzzled tightly back into the corner of the living room... with their ears back ... huddled together for protection ... hiding from the crazed man in the living room.
So ... basically ...
It does not matter how much I secretly wish football would fall off the face of the earth...
That time of year has fallen upon me once again.


It looks like ... I am a widow/single Mom for the time being.

Meaning ...

There are certain things that I have come to learn/expect over the years that I have been married to Clinton.

Keep the kids out of ears way. 
To avoid them hearing all the potty mouth words that come out of their Daddy's mouth. 

Conversation during a football game should not even be attempted.  
I repeat ... NEVER!
It never ends well ... and should just be avoided all together. 

Here is a little FYI:
DO NOT think that "this time will be different" and attempt to carry on a conversation WHILE the football game is going on. 
I repeat ... JUST WAIT!
Honestly ... why would you think that it is ok to "talk"?
He has tuned you out for the past few hours. 
Basically ... it is your own stupidity when things turn badly and you end up walking away in tears. 
Don't say I did not warn you.

Entertain the children in another room.
So their Daddy can "concentrate" on the game. 

EVERY game is a HUGE GAME.
Well ... that is what Clint tells me when I ask him if he would rather watch a movie with me than watch the football game. 
"Jill, This is a HUGE GAME!" 
I am not sure if he realizes it ... but the past 9,674 games ... have been HUGE GAMES.

Football season is also know as ...
"Honey Can You Get Me A Beer" Season in our house.

Football season is also know as ...
"I am a widow due to a Crazed Football Husband for the Next 6 Months" Season in our house.

Clint's life is full of nerve wrecking suspense and total anxiety for those long 4 grulling hours that the football game is on.
Me on the other hand ... our marriage is on a time out until Clint blows the whistle to resume our marriage.

All house hold issues are to be taken directly to Mommy. 
Not Daddy! 
I repeat ... NOT DADDY!

Do not expect miracles while the game is on.
For example ... if suddenly my "gourmet cooking" catches on fire ...
Clint would fumble for his can of beer.
Pour it over the flame.
To save the day ...
While never taking his eyes off the 52 inch Plasma TV.
Unfortunately ... if that was his last can of Miller Lite ...
I will be making an emergency trip to the store to "man up" the beer supply.

Speaking of "manning up" ...
We need to own stock in Miller Lite, pretzels and shelled peanuts during the football months.

Bedtime is no longer when the news is over.
It is when the football game is done.
AND ... it does not matter if he walked in the door exhausted from a long day at work.
Clint will duck tape his eye lids open ... just to finish the football game.

Postpone ANYthing and EVERYthing until the football game is done and over with.
Even dinner! 
Order a pizza ... he can heat that up after the game. 
Or ... hand him a can of dog food ... he probably will not even notice with all the Miller Lite that is being drank.

Pouting, Being Naked or Tears do not work for the true football fan of a husband.
Clint will not react to me batting my eyelashes, puppy dog eyes or silky undies standing directly infront of him during a football game.
Come back during Half Time with the silk undies and a bit of naked-ness.
This is a "fool-proof" play in the game book ... and works every time.

If Clint has friends over ... it is best for me and the kids to leave.
1.  He is more likely to not care if I go shopping when I ask him immediately following the kickoff.
2.  I may sufficate in testosterone.
3.  I WILL drown in adrenaline.
4.  One of the kids may accidentally get knocked unconscious by an air punching fist while trying to make their way to the pizza that I order 30 minutes prior.

Throw your hands up in the air and give up.  Just surrounder during football season. 
Clint enjoys himself. 
So I must surrender. 
After all ... it is the only way to survive football season.

Just remember ... Marriages come and go.
BUT ... in the reality of football season.

And football trumps marriage every time.  There are no if's, and's, or but's about it.

See you at Half Time Clint ... *wink*  *wink*
Oh wait ... who will be entertaining the kids then.
Never mind.
See you immediately following the Super Bowl.


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