High Five for fun!
As yesterday was the first OU game day of the season, I dressed my little lion cubs up in their OU gear- Jude in his Adrian Peterson jersey and Viv in her little onesie and denim skirt. I knew it would make my husband's day to see his babies in those outfits, and that's why I did it. The three of them were just as cute as could be in their matching OU shirts. I wore a comfy black dress. Not intentionally morbid or indifferent, but because I don't own or wear OU regalia. I don't NOT wear OU stuff because I think I'm too cool. Far from it. I actually don't wear game day gear because I feel it would be taking away from actual fans who do wear it. I'd feel awkward and phony because I just don't get into OU football. Out of respect to those who love it, I don't wear it. I'm no band wagoner. One of the games I went to with Taylor a long time ago, I tried to at least wear an OU'ish colored shirt, but Taylor just teased me the entire time and told me that I stuck out. He told me that I looked like a hippie trying to look like an OU fan and that it was really obvious that I didn't care what was going on.
"What?" I asked indignantly. "This is a red shirt." But OU's colors aren't red. They're CRIMSON.
Well, fuck me.
I grew up in Norman my entire life and have never gotten into OU football. My parents aren't into sports (my dad is the most UNsports guy you will EVER meet in your life. Seriously. Meet him and tell me I'm wrong) so my brother and I were sort of destined to never be into team sports either. It was never on TV at our house so my exposure to it was virtually zilch- in fact, most of the time I forgot that OU football even existed up the street. I don't remember hearing much about OU football really until after the 2000 Championship- then I couldn't escape it if I tried. Maybe up until then I wasn't paying attention- I did after all spend every Saturday from high school through my early twenties working in the mall- or was I existing in a constant state of buzzed out bliss that I was oblivious to the crimson and cream machine that fueled my city- but I'm guessing that when you grow up living in a place, certain things about its ambiance just become such a constant that you forget they're even there. Now I'm married to OU Super Fan #1, so OU football is a very big deal in my household. I learned this really quick when Taylor and I first started dating 10 years ago. As a 5th generation OU alumni, Taylor has OU football running through his veins. Even jokingly knocking it is blasphemy in my house- which I think is stupid (he can tease me about everything under the sun but I can't bust his balls about this? Come on!), but what can I do? We all have our sensitive spots, and although my husband doesn't have many of them (I love that about him), OU football is definitely one. So I go along with it and let him tell me about OU football things and participate in watch parties (because I like parties and I like game day eating) because that's what good spouses do: we support each other's interests. Besides, when OU loses, I have to live with the drunk pissed off husband moping around my house. So it's much better for me when they are WINNING.
I'm a good sport, but I'm not exactly Miss Team Spirit. It's just not in my nature. I was a cheerleader in the 8th grade and it was an excellent learning experience for me- it helped me discover what doesn't get me excited. But alas- here I am... older, wiser and still "Eh" about the whole thing, but it's inevitable that my kids will probably be OU fans just like they're dad... and that is just fine by me. I'm happy that they will grow up sharing that with him- and I'll always put on an interested face and encourage their enthusiasm for it. I'll make 7 layer dip for them to eat while they watch it and arrange watch parties at our house so they'll grow up with memories of fun get togethers spawned by a love of something bigger than them. I'll take them down to Norman to tail gate and hell, I'll even buy Viv a little cheerleader outfit to wear if she ever decides she wants one- whatever.
It seems to me that there should be no limit on what you can do to make your kids smile and have fun- so if they're having fun and are into it, then you should be too.
Jude and Viv and I hung out at my parent's house with my parents and brother before I left them there so I could venture out for my night on the town. Jude was really understanding about Mommy needing some grown up time. Can't you tell?
Taylor went to the game with our friend Dustin and I went out later that evening with Jennifer. The guys left mid game or so to meet up with us for sushi and drinks at In the Raw, sharing with us tales of senior citizens passing out from heat exhaustion in the stands. People apparently were getting carried out on stretchers and were puking into cups because it was so hot up there.
Boomer!
Asian cuisine, girlie martinis and Japanese beer have become Jennifer's and my date night ritual.
This is a 5 STAR date night package that became a trend by accident. We just really like Asian cuisine, girlie martinis and Japanese beer. An excellent recipe for a perfect "full" and gabbing fuel.
Jennifer and I have started scheduling ample phone conversations and date nights because we are old and busy. She's here there and everywhere teaching yoga and working and doing her Jennifer thing, and my windows for grown up time are so fleeting anymore with two little ones pulling me apart like a wishbone. These days, to get in the marathon conversations we need to thoroughly share everything that must be shared, penciling in dates is a must. Kind of like how a martial relationship goes- you have to make time for one another to keep a friendship healthy and flourishing and growing, even if you have to schedule it. I'm pretty proud of us for figuring this out.
It always weirds me out when I see people my age or younger making out in public places, but it's always even weirder when it's people my parents age and older. No offense older people, but no matter what age you are, seeing people your parents age make out is always uncomfortable. Or hilarious when you've been drinking and they don't notice you taking their picture to post on Facebook.
Taylor kept calling what they were doing "heavy petting." Yep. That's pretty much what they were doing. The woman kept spilling her white wine all over the place and the man couldn't seem to tear his hands off of her butt. Ewwwwww.
Jennifer and I suck at the "friends taking self portraits" thing, especially once we've abandoned the martinis for beer. This picture was a winner only because we finally gave up and got some guy at the Deli to take it. The series of pictures of us attempting to take one of our own that was successful in capturing our good sides will have me laughing for days because we're total dorks.
No, you can't see them.
