This lovely, sunny Monday morning I'm suffering from a football hangover. It's bad.
I spent all of my Sunday watching football. From 1pm-4pm, I watched NFL. From 5pm-9:30pm, I watched my two boys. It was an up and down, touchdown, fumble, touchdown battle. Both of my boys played hard, and my younger son, LLG, had his first solo tackle in a game.
What an exhilarating experience for a six year old.
After my older son's heartbreaking game ended at 9:30pm, we hurried the family home for pajamas and bed. Never-mind the fact that I have no idea if any of them ate a morsel since I fed them before leaving for the fields at 4 o'clock.
Actually, I'm certain my girls ate. And I'm certain I ate. I'm even certain my younger maniac son ate because I organized his team's tailgate.
But Hubby and my Sports Fanatic? There was too much commotion to worry about proper nourishment.
Starving my Hubby and oldest child aside, it's a miracle I didn't have to drive anyone to school today. We did get the 7:30am call to drop off an organizer and a bathing suit for P.E., but everyone made the bus.
And to that I say, hallelujah.