D, D, we need D!

Bonjour sports fans!

Well, I hope it’s morning where you are.  I’m working European hours today, which means it’s approximately lunchtime in Paris.  And that equates to way-too-flippin’-early-to-be-considered-morning on the west coast.  Sigh.  I wonder if I could convince my boss to let me work the European 35-hour workweek as well?

OK, blah!  Random sleep-deprived tangent over.  What I meant to say was…

Have I ever mentioned that besides being big football fans, sports are pretty much on non-stop around here?  Currently, we’re dividing our time between two sports: football (duh) and basketball (groan).  And in the spirit of the latter, I’m guest posting today over at Unpolished Parenting, home of the lovely D.

D and I first connected through Working Mom Wednesdays, and I quickly discovered that she kind of rocks.  Today, I wrote a little ditty about playing defense as a parent.  (Yes, I’m writing about D… on D’s blog.  How ironic.)

Please stop by and say hi.  And check out some of the other posts at Unpolished Parenting… you’ll be glad you did.

Also?  Go Blazers!

Confessions of a former sports widow

For the first six weeks after we got married, I was blissfully happy.  I basked in the newlywed glow.  I had a doting new husband.  Everything was just peachy.

But on week seven, something came along that put the kibosh on all of that. 

That something?  Football.  Little could I have known that a little pigskin and 22 grown men in skintight pants could turn my formerly attentive husband into a raging, all out football fanatic.

I became a sports widow.  At least on Sundays.  And Monday nights.  And, sometimes, Thursday nights, too.

Initially, I did not take my newfound widowhood gracefully. 

But after a time, I realized that my attempts to win my husband’s attention on the weekends were somewhat futile.

After the first few seasons, I even became resigned to the fact that, at least for 16 weeks out of the year, I was a sports widow.  At least on Sundays.  And Monday nights.  And, sometimes, Thursday nights, too.

But my husband sensed my growing discontent.  And, in an effort to put a kibosh on my incessant whining and pouting, did something that changed the character of our marriage.  Somehow, he convinced me to join his fantasy football league.

At first, I wasn’t sold on the idea.  I hated football.  I knew nothing about the sport.  But at least it gave us something to talk about on the weekends.  And, surprisingly, I was pretty lucky when it came to picking my players.

As it turns out, apparently Jay knew me better than I knew myself.  Because for as much as I despised football?  I hated losing even more.

Partway through the first season, I realized that, in order to win at fantasy football, I actually had to know something about the sport.  And so, I started watching.

And, slowly, a transformation occurred.  I actually started to like it.  I began poring over the stats.  I agonized over which running back to start.  I rejoiced alongside my husband when the bad guys fumbled the ball.

My husband says that introducing me to football may have been the best thing he did for our marriage.

I don’t know if I’d go that far.  But I can say that I now look forward to Sundays.  And Monday nights.  And, sometimes, Thursday nights, too.

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The WoW is kibosh.

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