Sportin' Some Seahawks

Last year, the Seahawks had an awesome season. The year before they had an even more awesome season. And truly, every year since J-Man and I moved to the SeaTac area in 2008 they've been steadily improving. I like to think my fandom is what pushed them over the edge. The more of a fan I've become, the better they've done. 

That is, until the superbowl 2015 and its unspeakable final moments and the general apathetic disintegration that's been going on the past few months.

I say all this with love. I really like cheering for the Seahawks. Not enough to stay awake and watch late games. Not even enough to really pay attention during afternoon games while only the highlights are displaying on Red Zone. But enough to know the key players' names, get excited by memes, commercials and other franchise news, and have serious opinions about Russell Wilson's dating life. 

Also, J-Man bought me a jersey for my birthday last year, so I think that makes me a fan for life. These things ain't cheap. I'm a fan until this jersey wears out; I can't just go around buying new jerseys every time a team misses a perfectly opportune chance to run the ball in with the best runner-inner in the league.

So, back to me and my fandom and how my wardrobe has been affected... the first Friday of football season, I decided to sport my new Richard Sherman #25. PDG didn't have any navy/green, so he wore his "football shirt" with the numbers on it, that made him feel like he was in a jersey and thankfully had navy blue so it worked aesthetically. MDG didn't have any "football shirts" but he did have a navy and neon shirt that said let the games begin, so, you know, perfect in its own way. J-Man wore one of his many Hawks items (probably a few items really), and as a family, we earned the title of most fantastically fanified of all time.

It was fun and at that point, nothing bad had happened this season yet.

By the time Spirit week rolled around at my school, my team had already had some disappointing losses. Still, unwavering in my support, I decided to go all out. Every year I like to pick one or two days of Spirit week to really be a team player. I give less quizzes, I try to throw in some games on pep rally day, I blur the line of super-strict-til-Christmas and have some fun. Tailgate Tuesday called my name, and I had no choice but to raid J-Man's closet and respond with this.

Yes, I got teased plenty. I got accused of being a bandwagoner (to which I mentioned attending games back when Hasselbeck was QB and empty stadium seats abounded) and also questioned for hanging on despite the downward trajectory. I stayed true, even working my 6th period duty at the security desk, checking in all visitors to the school and working our fancy remote-operated doors. My clashing stripes and polka dots on pattern day didn't hold a candle to my neon proclamation. I'm a 12 for life. Win or lose.

But, if any Seahawks are reading this, just an fyi: it's way more fun for all us G's if you keep winning. Just, you know, in case you weren't sure. That'd be awesome. Or, you know, if it's not the winning you're having trouble with, then, maybe, just possibly, not losing at the very end. That'd be cool too. K. Thanks. Kisses.

Superbowl Sadness

By now you likely know we're Seahawks fans in the G-house. Don't go calling us bandwagon fans either. My first professional games were to see the 'Hawks back in '09 when no team in Washington state seemed to understand what winning was. Their colors are fun. Their fans are fierce. And finally, they've got a crew of fun-to-cheer-for players who can put some points on the board.

Last year I watched the Superbowl with J-Man. Ok, correction. Last year I watched the first half of the Superbowl with J-Man. I was still overly sleep-deprived, though, so that first play after halftime sealed the deal and I went to bed pretty confident we had it in the bag. J-Man silently celebrated the win so that I could rest until the next feeding. Times were different.

This year I told J-Man that I didn't want to host a party, or get a sitter, but I did want him to get the chance to actually shout at a TV during the game if he felt so inclined. Around five pm he set off to watch with some friends, and the little boys and I popped some popcorn and settled in for the first quarter.

We were serious.

And we like popcorn.

I also felt like I should watch the whole game (sentimental commercials included) since I'd assigned my students to be able to respond in Spanish how they reacted to the game's turnout - chapter four vocabulary always falls perfectly at this time of year, which makes it my favorite chapter for being something relevant that the kids really do want to use. but before I nerd out about authentic prompts for assessments...

I was watching the game.  And then I was listening to the game with my eyes shut. And then I was hoping it just stayed 24-21 the rest of the game. And then I was waking up with this weird feeling that the TV had gotten loud or something had happened or wait, what? We lost? Wilson got intercepted? Beast Mode didn't get to rush it in? Brady and his face got a trophy? My students would get to each, individually, tell me how they felt 'alegria' the next day as payback for me wearing my #3 jersey on Friday and taunting my Patriots fans?  what?!?!

Poor J-Man came home not too much later and we reminded ourselves (or, I reminded him) it's just a game. Nothing about our lives actually changed.

And the next day, our Amazon Prime package (the only way to shop) arrived. The boys, understanding nothing of seasons and endings and superbowls, put on the glasses so we could be "cool dudes" and excitement for next season again.

Or maybe, just maybe, excitement for seven months of football-free Sunday afternoons set in. Either way, it'll be ok.

The H Five

The hard thing about growing up and falling in love is that sometimes love takes you away from your family. Physically, that is. And these days Big Bro and Big Sis are both time zones away from me and Mama and Papa H, so when they both make it home at the same time, it's cause for a pretty big celebration.

Thanks to JMU's homecoming weekend, we were able to all get together for Halloween weekend this year. It was a whirlwind, but after the trick-or-treat office extravaganza, we G's drove back home to where the other four had already gathered. No spouses or kids on their parts, but we counted our blessings to at least have us all together - the H five.

Friday night Mama H had made sure to have favorites for all of us - Olive Garden lasagna, peel-n-eat shrimp, pound cake, pumpkin cake and more. The next morning we stuffed ourselves some more, took some pictures, and the five of us headed to the game while J-Man took dad duty and watched the boys.

Mama and Papa H had somehow gotten us even more of a hook-up than their usual season tickets by getting us access to the fancy Club Level to schmooze with the super duper fans and their delicious buffets. Did you know pork rind nachos were a thing? Me neither. Maybe J-Man can figure out how to make them for our next hangout?

Despite the cold and occasional drizzle, the game was pretty fantastic. I did bundle like this:

That seemed to do the trick. Plus dancing along with the band (go MRD!) and a nail-biter of a 4th quarter kept the blood flowing.

The rest of the weekend flew by with plenty of stories and celebrating and classic sibling dynamics. I miss those two a ton, but at least we get the time that we do.  Hopefully it won't be another full year before we're all in one place again.

J-Man's 31st

We G's just keep getting older. Not "old" per se, just older. Little G's and Big G's alike.

J-Man just turned 31. Can you believe it?  Thirty sounds fun and adult-ish. You know, "thirty, flirty and thriving." Thirty-one just sounds.... like a number. So we celebrated as such.

MDG and PDG decided to have colds, so much so that PDG needed to stay home from daycare with an awful cough. Luckily, Mama and Papa H came to the rescue and drove over in the morning, to save J-Man from endless hours of snuggles while watching Super Why in bed.

In the afternoon we all got to see him just long enough to record a video for Cousin N who shares a birthday with J-Man, a few hugs and kisses, and then he was back out the door to watch the Seahawks beat the local football team with the racist name.

At 1:30 when I awoke to find my J-Man not yet home, I naturally panicked.  Too many episodes of shows like Disappeared had me worried that I might never see him again.  Something must have gone terribly wrong. My boys would never know their father - not really. I'd have to tell them stories of his humor and work ethic and endless generosity. I'd fall asleep lonely each night, half of the bed left untouched. My heart would ache forever.

You know, the usual morbid thoughts.

Then his buddy responded to my frantic texts and it turned out they'd just had a crazy journey home from the game and would arrive shortly. We all get another year of J-Man. And I get about seven more months before embracing thirty-one as well.

Oh, and sometime during all this, PDG decided to make his own video selfie. Someday if I figure out how to add videos, I'll come back and insert it here.

Football Season Here We Come

It's that time of year again.

The morning and evening air is getting crisp. The television is on all day Sunday. The jerseys are fully in laundry rotation. It's football season.

The excitement gets started early here in the G house. Like, really early. The pictures below are from a couple weeks ago.

See, it isn't quite good enough to have PDG like football.  With such big hands and feet, we're hoping he loves it.  Excels at it.  Goes pro at it.  Buys us a house with one of his paychecks.

Just kidding.  Unless he does.  In which case, awesome.

In the meantime, it's something J-Man hopes he'll be able to enjoy with his boys.  So the helmet is out, and J-Man and I have drafted our teams for our family/friend league.  Without a pregnancy to distract me this year, anything is possible.

Goals for the season:
1) Beat J-Man
2)Beat Big Sis
3) Not have any of those weeks where I forget to swap out my injured and bye-week players
4) Beat J-Man
5) Beat Big Sis

Wish me luck!

And by wish me luck, I mean, help me not drown in a sea of football these next however many months until the Seahawks win the superbowl again.

Two Years Old!!

Looky looky, guess who's two!

Yep, this guy...

Can't you see how thrilled he was that I was taking his photo at 5:30am?  At that point it was just another Wednesday morning.  Far enough into the week to be exhausted when I flipped on the light.  Maybe my singing didn't help?

PDG had a great day with his buddies at daycare.  Apparently they sang to him a bunch, and Ms S even got him a little gift.  He was certainly wound up when he got home.  By the time we finished all the Face Times and speakerphone conversations he was a tantrum-throwing terrible two for sure.  

We waited until Saturday for the party.  In part because the weather has been Crazy (yes, with a capital C) and also because Mama and Papa H would already be coming to babysit so it made sense.  Rather than a real party though, we went for the low key approach.  We invited over KB and Big and Lil Os and that was it.  Nice and simple.  The G way.

Yeah, this was a mere 36 hours before the snowfall of the last post, and we were happily playing in the backyard and having a picnic.  PDG understands gifts better since Christmas and Lil O happily helped him open the presents.  They are so adorable together!  Stickers, a current favorite, a train set, a Seahawks helmet, a trike, a teeball set and a fire truck are now a part of the endless collection of toys taking over our little house.  Each one made him super excited and confused that there could be anything else.

The boys played while we passed around MDG and soaked in the sun.  Having successfully worn themselves out for naptime, we did cupcakes with a candle and called it a day.  

It's crazy to realize how big this boy is getting.  He has so much to say and so many expressions and his first real friends.  Here's to another adventurous year watching him grow and learn and laugh.

Worst Month Ever?

I know we're only halfway through, but I'm ready to label January 2014 as the worst month of J-Man's and my time together.

Is that a little dramatic?  Perhaps.  But that doesn't make it less true.

Yeah, January, I'm lookin' at you

Also, I should clarify, this isn't to say that it's the worst our relationship has been.  Granted, throw enough stress inducers in the pot and any marriage will hit a bump or two, but that isn't really it.  It's just, um, everything?

There's the obvious one.  We have a newborn.  And he cries.  A lot.  Similarly to PDG, it isn't the kind of cry that requires any diagnosis like reflux or colic or what have you.  Just general fussiness until he figures out what life out of the womb is all about.  So, yeah, there's that.  It makes us feel a little nutty sometimes......

Then there's work.  My fears about returning so soon.  I go back next week at only 7 weeks - a far cry from the 5 months I had with PDG (though only 12 of those were expected if you remember).  And there's J-Man's work.  Where they're doing restructuring and being generally jerkish to him.  Which he would never want me to elaborate on so I won't.  But I think we can agree that when work feels miserable, it's easy for everything else to be miserable, no?

Plus, PDG threw up at daycare last week.  We thought it was just one of those random things that happens to little boys who eat as much as he does.  But, again, worst month ever.  Seems he had some kind of bug.  Bad enough that he didn't even want to play at the park with his grandma that afternoon.  Bad enough that he'd keep throwing up all evening.  And then bad enough that he'd pass it along to his exhausted and already dehydrated mama, who would lovingly share it with her annoyed-with-work husband.  Fingers crossed the baby doesn't get some form too.  I'm hoping the incessant nursing at least is passing along my antibodies to protect him.

I seem to recall there being something else craptastic these past 15 days, but you're getting the point, right?

On the upside (did you think I'd be negative ALL post?) a few great things have happened.  J-Man's mom is in town from Washington state.  She's been super helpful - especially during the stomach madness.

And, fans could argue even better, the Seahawks won.  We donned our tattoos and duct tape and jerseys, bibs, and hats to cheer them on.  Go Hawks.  Ca-Caw

Redskins?

PDG's Grandma in Maryland would love nothing more than for him to be a Redskins fan.  In fact, whenever she sees him she bounces him on her lap, facing her, and chants "Redskins, Redskins, Redskins, RGIII."

Now J-Man and I have agreed to make PDG a Seahawks fan until he is old enough to choose Cowboys or Redskins (and clearly disappoint one of his parents).  Somehow, though, the picture above happened and those cheeks and tired eyes made it too adorable for me not to post.

And while we're talking football, Fantasy has gotten pretty intense.  Somehow I have gone from the girlfriend who detested made-up football time-sucking internet obsessions to the wife who participates in two leagues, including one that she co-commissions. And even more, I've managed to have winning records, without consulting J-Man, and am ranked #2 in both.  It would be cooler if J-Man wasn't the one beating me, but I have faith that my friends in the leagues will promptly shut him down and either take the lead for themselves, or open up room for me to step in and be the fantasy champ within the G house.

Either way, Sundays are still one part church, 12 hours football, two parts nap when PDG naps.

Superbowlin'

Last night we all know that the Packers won.  And in the G-money household, it was glorious.  There were chips, and pita chips, and pretend-to-be-healthy chips, and dips of all shapes and sizes.  There were pulled pork sandwiches that dripped everywhere, carrots that crunched magnificently, and his and hers valentine's cookies.

And when the game started there were cheers and there were curses.  There were pelvic thrusts and jubilation.  There were rape jokes.  (disclaimer: we do not actually think rape is funny. trust me. we do think it's a good joke opportunity when the quarterback who has been accused of sexual assault a time or two is losing and claiming injustice. good luck there, buddy...)

While all this was going on, I was thinking about my list.  You know, my celebrity list.  Everyone has one, right?  Where you and your lover decide what infidelities are acceptable, and limit them to some number like 5 or 10 or however many you can tap in one night.  One of those lists.

I have a list.  Except, I don't keep track of it very well. I add and subtract members on a whim.  These days it's something like this:

1. Morgan Freeman (ok, not really.  that's our favorite joke.  except maybe.  if he asked me nicely.  or if he stood on a table and told me he was the HNIC!)

So, Morgan Freeman
2. Don Cheadle
3 -? Any of the non-domestic-abusing men in Takers
and my token athlete - A-Rodg.

Yes, Aaron Rodgers has been the QB on J-Man's fantasy football team for two years now and his unshaken, boy-next-door smile keeps me cheering through 12 hours of RedZone Sundays week after week after week.  I imagine him walking to class, sliding in late next to his lab partner in college.  Playing Madden with his buddies in a dingy dorm room.  Just, you know, being a guy.  But a good guy.  Maybe holding the door for the girl behind him. Hi-fiving the screaming cheese-head fans.  Calling his mom on a Sunday that isn't Mother's Day - just because.  Holding my hand as I deliver his baby.

Wait.  Whoops!  Where's that delete key when you need it?!

Although, see, that's actually part of our clause.  With the others, J-Man and I have never discussed consequences.  It's a one-time-only sort of a deal.  But with A-Rodg, unprompted, he has given me his blessing to carry this allstar's baby.  (assuming I'll ever get to carry anyone's baby).  He says it would be worth it.  And everyone likes a mixed baby - look at how ridiculously cute my nephews are.  Painfully cute.  And imagine the money we could make.  And I bet A-Rodg would come visit once every couple years to toss the football with his kid and autograph my stretchmarks.  What a fabulous life we could have, me and J-Man and baby A-Rodg-G.

See, these are the things I was thinking.  Totally non-football things.  Completely, utterly, ridiculous scenarios that aren't tied to any actual information I've ever researched about him, his team, his mom, or his opponents.

Just me and my goofy imagination keeping me entertained between commercials. 

Speaking of which, jury is still out on which commercial was the best.  Probably the girl getting slammed with a pepsi to the head.  I told you it's funny when people fall.  No?