When I was a teenager, my father and I had a football-watching understanding.  He would grade papers while watching the game and I would busy myself with something productive in another room.  When something interesting happened, he’d holler, “Hey, Courtney!  Come watch this replay!”  I’d pop around the corner and watch and exclaim appropriately.  When a play was especially phenomenal or excruciating, he’d add his own sound effects. Then, I returned to my tasks until he filtered out another good play.

Then, when my husband and I were dating, he would ask me to sit and watch football with him.  Sit? Sit and watch football?  Certainly, there was a better use of my time than sitting during a football game.  He eventually got me to oblige at HIS house because I didn’t have an everlasting to do list there.  But at my house, I resumed my task list and let my dad alert me to the good parts.

Sometimes, I fell asleep on the couch next to my husband (then fiancé) while he was watching football.  That seems natural.  The productive girl falls asleep if there’s ever too much sitting.  He’d help me by slapping me awake (not intending to be violent, just excited) when something noteworthy happened.  I barked that I preferred my father’s method.  :)  One of his parents would inevitably tell him, “Drive her home and let her go to sleep!”

However, even then, sitting was false advertizing.  Poor guy.  After we were married, his house was my house.  Therefore, I didn’t want to watch football with him because I now had the chore list to keep up with.  I asked him, “Why don’t you get off your duff and help?”  He responded, “Why don’t you act like you like me and sit down and watch the game with me?”  Sit? Sit and watch a game while there’s a load of dishes to wash and floors to mop?  Sit?  I could be using this time to get my running done.  I have calculus homework.

Let me clarify that I still don’t mind watching the game at other people’s houses.   I don’t play a matriarchal role there.  I don’t have a chore list there.  I also like going to a game or two a year.  That’s a whole different experience.  In fact, about 4 years ago, I begrudgingly had to lay down in the stands during the 4th quarter until the Braxton hicks slowed down enough for me to catch my breath.  I heard other spectators laughing when my arm would pop up for the fight song or in sync with the crowd yelling “1st down!”

Ten years into this marriage and I’m finally learning.  We just finished watching the second game.  The floors that I just mopped yesterday are sprinkled with toddler debris.  There’s a load in the washer that needs to be put in the dryer.   I hear these and other things calling to me.  But I’m busy leaning on my husband.  He doesn’t notice the things that are calling to me.  I like him and he likes that I want to lean on him.

What’s this?  Apparently, we’re watching the end of a third game.  Bless wifi.  That would have been useful ten years ago too!