Football season is barely underway, and I can already say, “Catch ya after season, Coach!”
You see, we have a 5-year-old who is off to big kid school for the very first time (insert mommy tears). We also have a 5-and-a-half-month-old who I have been on {extended} maternity leave with, but that is also coming to an end (insert more mommy tears). As I write this, it is my last day of summer vacation, as I begin a job at a new school tomorrow (insert even more mommy tears).
Coincidentally, Coach’s first full day is also tomorrow. He’s not crying, but I know he’ll miss us.
So, Coach, I don’t know how much I’ll be seeing you in the next few months. I’ll be poppin’ bottles (the baby kind) and chillin’ with Netflix (at 2am feedings). I’ll make all the football games I can, but I can’t promise many. Gone are the days when I could hop in the car and follow your team all over the state. I feel ill-prepared for the next 4 months; but I know I’ll make it, and so will you.
I’ll see you as you put your shoes on to walk out the door. I’ll steal a 3 minute phone call before you go to practice. We’ll send hundreds of text messages throughout the day, just so we can feel connected. We’ll have a game recap on the phone on your drive home Friday nights. I may even stay up with you for a 9 pm dinner.
I also might have crashed by 9 pm. No promises.
This isn’t the first season I’ve had to promise Coach that I’ll see him the next one. That’s how I know it will be just fine. Because just like football seasons, marriages have seasons, too.
I know at home that his absence doesn’t mean we lack support; he knows at the games, our absence doesn’t mean we aren’t cheering him on. We’re just doing it at home in our bubble baths, or in our pjs, or even while we sleep—dreaming sweet dreams of first downs and touchdowns.
If you’re in my boat, hang in there. It’s true the days are long, but the years are short. There are many, many football seasons to experience. For this one, though, you may just have to say, “I’ll catch you after season, Coach.”