If you haven't figured it out by now, we're what you'd call a "Football Family".
Coach played it as a kid. He coaches it now.
Both my younger brothers played it growing up.
Both of our boys have played if for years, and Jock is planning his future around playing it.
So it should come as no suprise to you that in our little corner of the world, today was a major holiday. And like all other major holidays, it involved lots of junk food, a party, and getting nothing done around the house. (Well, except for the part where I cleaned like a pregnant woman nesting in order to get ready for said party!) If we could, I think we'd all even give gifts to each other. I know Mama G (remember her? my MIL?) got flowers delivered! (Ok, so its remotely possible that her husband sent them just 'cuz he loves her and he lives in Hawaii so doesn't get to see her everyday.... but c'mon? Is there a better reason to send flowers this time of year than the Super Bowl? I didn't think so! I only wish Coach had thought of it!)
Our annual party was actually Jock's idea. A few years ago, he was lamenting the fact that all of the major holiday parties were at Grandma's house. He really wanted to have one at our house. Coach and I told him to pick a holiday that wasn't already taken by Grandma, and we'd start having a party at our house. He thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it some more. Threw out dates like Easter (taken); St. Patrick's Day (usually fell on a school day, so it was a little harder to have a party then); he quickly discovered that Grandma had all the great holidays!
Then it hit him! The Super Bowl! After all, Dad loves football, and knows everything about it; and was probably going to be sitting there watching the game anyway. Why not have everyone over to watch it with him? Jock told us that it made perfect sense to have a big party at our house. And so, it was declared a family holiday from that point on.
This year, Jock was invited over to a friend's house for a party. It was a bittersweet moment in my house. After all, this was a "holiday" that he had created, a tradition he helped start. And this year, especially, was shaping up to be so much fun since he's gotten into the game as much as he has. But what kind of a mom would I be if I guilted him into staying? (Ok.. yes, I know that traditionally that is a mom's gift....but I'm not as good at it as you would think!) Besides, I WANT the kid to have friends. So, off he went. It was supposed to be one heckuva Patriot victory party.
It was really too bad things didn't turn out that way.
Jock came home, admitted (very grumpily, I might add) that Yes, Mom... I was crying! when confronted with the obvious signs of emotional distress, and went and hid in his room. When I went in to check on him a little later, I discovered him asleep. With his head buried beneath his pillows.
When he entered high school, I was *mostly* prepared for the various types of heartbreak he would face. Girls. Coaches. Grades. His own teams' defeats. But somehow the heartbreak of his favorite professional team blowing the single biggest game of their careers flew in under my radar.