Yesterday officially began football season in my house.  For those of you that don’t know, I am an INSANE, screaming at the television, bitter if my team loses, known to throw a remote or two, football lover. I DO draw the line at face painting and don’t get me started on those pink jerseys.

I have the NFL package and I religiously watch the NFL Network. I sit at my television all day EVERY Sunday, EVERY Monday night and thankfully sometimes Thursdays and Saturdays too. I run a fantasy football league for my girlfriends and host football parties often.  These parties aren’t a social gathering for girls who like to talk.  When the game is on, you watch or you get out and as a couple of my girlfriends can attest, I am not kidding. Hi my name is Stefanie Mullen and I have a problem. A problem for which no fix is required, thank you very much.

All that said, football officially started in my house yesterday, not because NFL training camp is in session (though that is giving me butterflies in my stomach), but because NoahNoah aka: Mac Daddy
Age: 12
"Special" Qualities: Holds a grudge for longer than you can remember the offense. Talks nonstop
Best Qualities: Wakes up with a smile every day and walks to the beat of his own drum. had his very first football practice ever. He has begged me for years to play and though I love football, my child is built like a bean pole and the idea of him playing football was about as appealing to me as going to the Playboy Mansion for a pool party with my husband.

Finally, after five years of him bitching that all his friends got to play football and that I was mean and he hated soccer and why did I have to be sooo uncool, I gave in. Then, about a month ago JJJJ aka: Depends on my mood.
What I love:He looks good in a cowboy hat or a business suit and wears them both daily. But not together, that would be creepy.
Hobbies: Building furniture, remodeling homes, playing sports with our kids, laughing with me. Seriously. decided he wanted to help coach the team and Noah was so excited he could barely stand it. I suppose I should have seen this coming, my husband played football all through high school and coaching one of our boys’ football teams is a long awaited dream finally coming to fruition.  So off they went yesterday for their first big practice together.  Both proud and smiling and all geared up.  It really was adorable.

As I waved them down the driveway, a slow reality began to come into focus. I glanced over at ColtonColton aka: Moose, Duece, Colt, CJ
Age: 3
Favorite Word: Fart
Hobbies:  Playing in the dirt, setting off fire alarms at preschool and bossing people around.
Best Qualities:  The sweetest disposition this side of the Mississippi. and thought, “WHAT IN THE HELL HAVE I DONE?”

If you haven’t heard of Pop Warner football, here is the deal.  You have no life.  Acutally, you live a “no” life.  No, we can’t do that, we have football.  We would love to go to dinner with you. No, that won’t work, how about December? Yes, we would love to travel on your private jet with you to your own private island next week and be served by your staff all free of cost, let me just look at my calendar, oh, NO, sorry, we have football.

August practices are Monday through Friday from 5:00 P.M. to 7:30 P.M.  Then starting in September it is three nights a week, same time and a game on Saturday.  Did I mention a three year old, no preschool and no summer camps?  Did I mention my husband will be gone from 8:00 A.M. to 8:00 P.M. EVERY DAY! I agreed to this?  Was I drunk?

So there I was last night at 11:00 P.M. still searching for summer camps that have an opening and all I could find were, “Teach your kid to speak to monkeys” or “How to make your three year old a millionare.”  At about the time I seriously considered driving two and a half hours to a legitimate camp, I shut down my computer and tried to fall asleep.

I can only hope that all this time my husband is spending out of the house means he will be taking care of the kids ALL day Sunday so that I can sit peacefully in his fat leather lazy boy, sipping a bloody mary and watching the Colts kick some New England ass.