A Super Bowl Salute to Quarterback Moms (and by that I mean moms who are like quarterbacks and not moms of quarterbacks)

A Super Bowl Salute to Quarterback Moms (and by that I mean moms who are like quarterbacks and not moms of quarterbacks)

As we approach Super Bowl Sunday, I’ve got football on the brain. Which could explain why I’ve begun to think of myself as the quarterback of our family. In fact, I think most moms out there are the resident quarterbacks, relentless calling the plays that get their husbands and children through the multitude of appointments and events that occur during any given day or week.  Don’t believe me?  Does any of this sound familiar?

Tomorrow you have an orthodontist appointment at 3:45, so I will meet you outside school at 3:15 and don’t forget your get out of jail early note and don’t be late.

On Sunday we’re going to Grandma’s for dinner, so make sure to get your homework done before we leave at four, because I’m not granting any excused absences.

Honey, the dentist’s office called to remind you of your appointment on Friday morning, but now that’s the same day as the school musical so if you want your daughter to be speaking to you on Friday afternoon, I would suggest rescheduling.

I stand by my Moms-Are-Like-Quarterbacks hypothesis. In fact, quite like another not-to-be-named Chicago quarterback, I’m even prone to fits of moodiness, arrogance and swearing. I don’t, however, throw quite as many interceptions.

And woe is the mom who travels, forced to call the plays long-distance, sometimes holding the home-life together with a series of text-messages and Post-it notes.

Last week, my flight home cancelled and I had to coordinate my husband’s birthday celebration long distance. A cake needed to be baked. Presents needed to be wrapped. Hut, hut, hut! A flurry of text messages and phone calls later, I received the reassuring communication: “The birthday elves are on it!”

Which explains why the very first gift my husband unwrapped was a box of my daughter’s bras.

All those Amazon Prime boxes do look the same. The birthday elves had wrapped every box we’d received that week and well, you know.  However, on a more positive note, the flowery poinsettia and “Sweet Baby Boy” wrapping paper were much appreciated by the husband. At least, more than the bras.

Calling the plays long-distance may have it’s disadvantages, but it was one birthday celebration we won’t forget anytime soon. And the cake my daughter baked was perfect.

So on Super Bowl Sunday I’ll be saluting all the moms out there who quarterback for their families, surviving the fumbles, the occasional tackle and the inevitable hindsight of the Monday morning quarterbacks. Because, Lord knows, I care as much about the Seahawks and Broncos as I do about poinsettia wrapping paper on a birthday present.

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