I know there are moms and dads with Moebius kiddos who like football. Here's an interesting take on it as a family activity. A mom wrote today: "I hoped one of our girls might take an interest in art, music, animals – anything that would enrich their developing middle-class souls – thanks to my deliberate, but also monumentally naive, choice to expose them to all things sophisticated. But none of that proved as lasting or successful as my husband’s persistence in cultivating their zeal for our nation’s Sunday religion: football."
But it turns out to be okay--that this kind of "enrichment" is a good family activity, too. Read on:
**********************
In my 11 years as a stay-at-home parent, our memberships to art museums, historical societies, botanical gardens, metroparks, zoos and childrens’ rooms all provided enjoyable (barring the inevitable colossal meltdown), educational (“Mommy! They sell chewy snacks at the zoo cafe!”) and cultural (“Can we pleeeease run up the down escalator at the art museum?”) experiences for our three daughters.
I hoped one of our girls might take an interest in art, music, animals – anything that would enrich their developing middle-class souls – thanks to my deliberate, but also monumentally naive, choice to expose them to all things sophisticated.
But none of that proved as lasting or successful as my husband’s persistence in cultivating their zeal for our nation’s Sunday religion: football. More specifically, Cleveland Browns football (I know all you Beltway readers think you have it so hard with your Redskins).
Since our girls were old enough to appreciate the gridiron, my husband Tony has systematically developed in them a genuine interest in his Brownies. He paved the way with kid-friendly gimmicks. First, he gave the day a name – “Hey girls! It’s FOOTBALL SUNDAY!” Then, he wooed them with special Football Sunday foods: chips, cheesy puffs, onion soup mix dip, biscuit-mix cheese balls, soda. During the week, he’d enlighten us with what the football world was saying about “our” team, sharing the on- and off-the-field mishaps of the players and, less frequently, their accomplishments. In the hour before each game, Tony and my brother-in-law Steve took the girls outside to toss the football around in the street. When the Browns won, Tony took the Browns flag from the front of our house and paraded with the girls down our town’s well-traveled boulevard, earning supportive honks from passers-by.
The first few seasons, I wasn’t at all a fan. I didn’t see the point in screaming at the television, applauding hard hits and arguing with officials who couldn’t hear our opinions. I thought the junk food would be a slippery slope. I couldn’t sit still for three hours 16 Sundays a year (lucky for me, a Browns season wasn’t –and still isn’t – any longer) and I found the whole thing self-serving. I thought he was capitalizing on our girls’ desire to spend time with him any way they could.
Thing is, the girls actually liked it. Tony bought them Browns gear and insisted they show their spirit at game time. Together, they planned the Sunday menu – always soda, always my guacamole, always chips, sometimes nachos. The girls began refusing play dates during games, opting instead to sit in our undersized TV room with Tony to watch the Browns (more often than not) lose. Before long, our middle daughter knew an offensive tackle from a tight end and was well acquainted with our club’s status as an NFL joke.
When I left the room during games, the girls asked why I wasn’t sticking around.
I’d tell them I was fine, that I just wanted to do something else.
But the truth is, I was a sore loser: I was hurt that they didn’t find my ideas of enrichment as interesting. I couldn’t stand that my role as a stay-at-home mom seven days a week paled next to a Football Sunday. I found respite in the off-season.
But during last year’s off-season, Tony upped his game. He started talking about the draft right after the Super Bowl. There were nightly updates on who might and might not be our quarterback. He’d gently tease me, “I know you can’t wait for it, Jen. Come on, it’s the NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE, right?” Then, turning to the girls for support and with childlike awe, he’d add, “Wowwwwww.” The girls would giggle. And soon, I was laughing, too.
Maybe it was the relentless exposure. Or Tony’s enthusiasn. Or maybe I finally saw that enrichment didn’t have to be so refined. Maybe we could just have fun huddled around the TV on a Sunday, united in our hopes and prayers that our losing team might one day be a winner. I warmed to the idea of Football Sundays – and it was only June.
So last Sept. 13 – the first Sunday of the Browns season – I put on my Browns T-shirt. I made the guac. I bought the chips and the soda. Earlier that week, we had invested in a smoker, declaring Football Sunday would also be Smoking Sunday. We made a mound of pulled pork and cole slaw to boot. It was a new season for the NFL, a clean start for Browns fans and a new experience for me. This season, I would commit to watching and engaging with the family.
Sure, the Browns had a losing season, but those Sundays between Sept. 13 and Jan. 3 were the best consecutive 16 Sundays we’ve had as a family. And this year, I’ll actually join them in watching Super Bowl 50. The girls are excited for the halftime show and the commercials, and I can get my culture and entertainment elsewhere. The thrill of the game is enriching enough.
Jennifer Kuhel is a writer who lives in Shaker Heights, Ohio.
************************
No comments:
Post a Comment