One of the greatest things about having my own blog is it is truly mine. I can do what I want with it say what I want. If you follow and read you are well aware that many times this blog ends up as an outlet for frustration or contemplation. Sometimes both. What began as a gripe today has revealed something else to me as I wrote it.
Football season has begun. And I'm not talking about the football on TV that monopolizes our Sundays. I am talking about the kind that monopolizes my life. Whether I like it or not I get to live, eat, sleep, and breathe football not just for my husband, but also for one of my boys, Hayden who loves it like his daddy does. They love it, so therefore I love it by default because I love them. But it is very possible to lose myself this time of year to the sport and bitterness sets in.
Being a coach's wife is extremely trying at times. I don't come second to the job, I come dead last behind the job, the athletic diector, the players, the laundry, the field, and even my own kids. If I asked my husband, Vince, he would say, "Of course that's not true. My kids come way before all that other stuff!" I would then roll my eyes, shake my head because as usual he cannot empathize with my position. It's not like I'm working 18 hour-days....why am I even complaining?
But other coach's wives can understand, that during football season, we turn into single moms. I am a single mom that still has the responsibility for a man, his laundry, his dogs, house, and meals, while still respecting the fact that he is exhausted and needs space when he get home from work well past dark-thirty. At this point, I am beginning to think I am the best wife in the world, but that would be an enormous lie. I try to do all these things. I fail miserably. Most of the football season I morph into overwhelmed shrew.
Every year I resolve to do better. Be better. And this year we are three weeks in, and it's looking pretty good! School just started, which is a whole other mountain to climb, but I have chosen to view football as a temporary ailment of sorts (ha! ailment- best metaphor ever!!!). Last year my husband alongside my entire family helped me through the worst accident and rehabilitation ever and it coincided with football season. I laid in a hospital bed wishing I was anywhere else, and I realized something that made my broken toes curl.
I missed football.
I missed the games, the traveling, watching my students, and seeing my husband in those green polyester Friday-night polos jumping and yelling on the sidelines. My husband is at his best on those sidelines. His soft-spoken easy manor, unfailing respect, and die-hard attitude isn't just for the game, it's what the game can bring to the lives of those involved- the players, the school, the town. I missed being able to look down at him from the stands and know that he is mine. It's a great moment of pride and joy for me and the kids. It's kind of sexy too....
Being a coach's wife is so much more than I ever bargained for. Long before we even married, Vince shared his dream with me- a dream of returning to the tiny town of Bloomington to be an inspiration to the students and share with them what sports did for his own life. I guess by signing the dotted line, and putting on the ring, I agreed to football as well. This is where my mother would say, "I told you so." and she would be right. She and every other married woman told me I had no idea what I was in for. But it's not like it's been all bad.
Our life together is like the passing football seasons- we share in losses and we revel the wins, I guess. Some seasons are more exciting than others for sure, and some injuries have had us out a few games, but the seasons keep coming regardless of my own reticence. So I figure, football isnt going to change, my kids aren't going to decrease in number, our lives won't slow down, so who is the one that needs to ultimately rise up? It's me. The Coach's wife. I am the support that they all need. Most importantly, I must remember my husband does God's work. He does it through sports, and that doesn't make it any less Godly than my calling or anyone else's.
So this year I will make a renewed effort (again) to be a good wife, a good Coach's wife, to my husband, my Coach. These hard months apart doesn't mean I am unimportant in his life, it means that I am needed now more than ever. I will do my part so that my husband can be the Coach, the warrior, the messenger to those bobcats the Lord has called him to be.
Football season has begun. And I'm not talking about the football on TV that monopolizes our Sundays. I am talking about the kind that monopolizes my life. Whether I like it or not I get to live, eat, sleep, and breathe football not just for my husband, but also for one of my boys, Hayden who loves it like his daddy does. They love it, so therefore I love it by default because I love them. But it is very possible to lose myself this time of year to the sport and bitterness sets in.
Being a coach's wife is extremely trying at times. I don't come second to the job, I come dead last behind the job, the athletic diector, the players, the laundry, the field, and even my own kids. If I asked my husband, Vince, he would say, "Of course that's not true. My kids come way before all that other stuff!" I would then roll my eyes, shake my head because as usual he cannot empathize with my position. It's not like I'm working 18 hour-days....why am I even complaining?
But other coach's wives can understand, that during football season, we turn into single moms. I am a single mom that still has the responsibility for a man, his laundry, his dogs, house, and meals, while still respecting the fact that he is exhausted and needs space when he get home from work well past dark-thirty. At this point, I am beginning to think I am the best wife in the world, but that would be an enormous lie. I try to do all these things. I fail miserably. Most of the football season I morph into overwhelmed shrew.
Every year I resolve to do better. Be better. And this year we are three weeks in, and it's looking pretty good! School just started, which is a whole other mountain to climb, but I have chosen to view football as a temporary ailment of sorts (ha! ailment- best metaphor ever!!!). Last year my husband alongside my entire family helped me through the worst accident and rehabilitation ever and it coincided with football season. I laid in a hospital bed wishing I was anywhere else, and I realized something that made my broken toes curl.
I missed football.
I missed the games, the traveling, watching my students, and seeing my husband in those green polyester Friday-night polos jumping and yelling on the sidelines. My husband is at his best on those sidelines. His soft-spoken easy manor, unfailing respect, and die-hard attitude isn't just for the game, it's what the game can bring to the lives of those involved- the players, the school, the town. I missed being able to look down at him from the stands and know that he is mine. It's a great moment of pride and joy for me and the kids. It's kind of sexy too....
Being a coach's wife is so much more than I ever bargained for. Long before we even married, Vince shared his dream with me- a dream of returning to the tiny town of Bloomington to be an inspiration to the students and share with them what sports did for his own life. I guess by signing the dotted line, and putting on the ring, I agreed to football as well. This is where my mother would say, "I told you so." and she would be right. She and every other married woman told me I had no idea what I was in for. But it's not like it's been all bad.
Our life together is like the passing football seasons- we share in losses and we revel the wins, I guess. Some seasons are more exciting than others for sure, and some injuries have had us out a few games, but the seasons keep coming regardless of my own reticence. So I figure, football isnt going to change, my kids aren't going to decrease in number, our lives won't slow down, so who is the one that needs to ultimately rise up? It's me. The Coach's wife. I am the support that they all need. Most importantly, I must remember my husband does God's work. He does it through sports, and that doesn't make it any less Godly than my calling or anyone else's.
So this year I will make a renewed effort (again) to be a good wife, a good Coach's wife, to my husband, my Coach. These hard months apart doesn't mean I am unimportant in his life, it means that I am needed now more than ever. I will do my part so that my husband can be the Coach, the warrior, the messenger to those bobcats the Lord has called him to be.
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