How Becoming a Mom Taught Me to Love Football

Our oldest was born on November 16th. It was a cold, dreary day, which foreshadowed how the next few months would unfold at our house. He cried nonstop, and so did I. On our first solo outing, just the two of us, we made the five-minute drive to Target, where he proceeded to scream hysterically the entire time we were in the store, causing many strangers to stop and stare, including one very kind older man who asked if he could help. Oh, how I desperately wished he could have. I was overwhelmed, overstimulated, and very, very tired.

The evenings were especially fraught, and I longed for a distraction to occupy my mental space aside from the anxiety that accompanies sleepless nights. My husband often had football turned on, and I watched with him as I nursed, rocked, and walked around, attempting to soothe our son. I slowly began to learn all of the teams, the players and positions, and the rules of the game. I found myself actually cheering for teams and becoming invested in first downs and well-executed plays. I looked forward to Sunday night games, and as we settled into our little life as a family of three, my husband and I would have a glass of wine, watch the game, and celebrate the small wins of the week, whatever they may be.

Most of my friends aren’t very interested in football and glance over confused when I start chatting about the ins and outs of each game at a social hang. My sisters love to roll their eyes and give me grief about “the year I started liking football.” If you know me, this doesn’t exactly track with who I am–a noncompetitive 36-year-old mom who would choose a book over almost any sports-related activity. My people are surprised that I am actually invested in this football thing, and trust me, no one is more surprised than me.

It has been such a little unexpected gift to discover something new that I enjoy at this stage in life. Not only is it an activity that my husband and I can enjoy together, but it’s just a really nice outlet and fun way to unwind at the end of what’s often been an exhausting weekend. I’ve loved learning the sport and watching teams compete and work together toward a common goal. I’m inspired by their tenacity, their hustle, and the ways they celebrate each other. While I’m no football star, being a mom mirrors the players’ challenges in some surprising ways. The grit and endurance that it takes to walk with kids through life day after day is reminiscent of athletes taking the field week after week, hopeful for what’s to come despite what may have felt like extreme defeat the week before.

I never would have suspected I’d be using football as a metaphor for my life as a mom, but here we are. And as football season kicks off this fall, whether you’re a fan or not, I hope Sunday nights can be a little less scary and a little more hopeful with your home team. Maybe a new little hobby will even creep into your life and catch you off guard in the very best way.