Are You Ready For Some Football?
February 19th, 2013
Because we live in Texas, where even the baby girls are born wearing jockstraps and professional grade mouth guards, my son Sam was on a football team when he was ten years old. A flag football team, to be specific, because we thought that’d be a lot safer for him than tackle. Little did we know the greatest danger our young athlete would face on the gridiron would be his mother.
The air was crisp and cool the morning of Sam’s first game and the field full of cheering parents, all eager to start their sons on the path to NFL glory. Myself included, of course, because professional football players usually buy their mothers a mansion in Florida with a solid gold hot tub. Ain’t no Mathlete going to do that.
Once the kids took their ready positions, the whistle was blasted, the football snapped, and with a grunt, the ball soared high into the sky. I gasped as I saw my beautiful little boy, my Sam, expertly catch it with one hand. With a look of grim determination on his face, he streaked down the field toward the end zone. He was at the 50, he was at the 40, he was for some bizarre reason sprinting with his eyes completely screwed shut and had no earthly idea where the hell he was going. Kind of like me every time I’m in Costco.
To no one’s big surprise, ground missile Sam then smacked right into two other players face first and crashed to the ground like a blonde tackle dummy. There was a huge “AWWWW!” from the crowd, then Sam’s coach threw his clipboard down and rushed onto the field to help him up. And me? I just stood on the sidelines, frozen. Part of me wanted to fancy-strut over there like Sandra Bullock did in that football movie where she wore a super tight skirt and was married to Tim McGraw or one of those other country singers I never recognize when they take off their cowboy hat. But the other part of me remembered that I’d tried to tie Sam’s football shoes tighter when we first got to the game and he almost spontaneously combusted from embarrassment. “Mo-OM,” he’d hissed. “You’re not supposed to touch me at football! Never touch me at football!” So what exactly was I supposed to do?
Finally, after two very, very long minutes, Sam limped over to the sidelines and his coach waved me over. “He’s just got a bit of a bloody nose,” he told me. “Do you have any tissues in your purse?”
“Of course I do!” I answered, immensely relieved that I could finally be of some help to my brave, injured son. “Sam might not think so, but even tough athletes need their mothers! Ha ha!” I chuckled. I reached into my purse, fished around for a few minutes and then I proudly handed the coach what I thought was a pack of tissues. But what he, Sam and the rest of the highly entertained crowd immediately saw was that it wasn’t a pack of tissues. In fact, what I’d just slapped onto the coach’s hand was something else entirely. It was a panty liner.
I’m pretty sure I won’t be getting that solid gold hot tub.
Entry Filed under: Uncategorized
22 Comments
Add your own1. Kristin Shaw (Two Cannoli) | February 19th, 2013 at 12:37 pm
You really are the poster child of Always.
Do you even blush anymore?
Great story – I was giggling at my desk in the middle of some horrible spreadsheet work, so thank you.
2. Wendi | February 19th, 2013 at 12:42 pm
This happened last year and I was hesitant to write about it because of the feminine hygiene aspect. But I guess I have to own this shit.
3. dusty earth mother | February 19th, 2013 at 12:56 pm
That gave me a significant chortle. And with all of my feminine hygiene literature, we should co-write a book.
4. Steph | February 19th, 2013 at 1:17 pm
Oh no, hope Sam forgave you!
5. Suzy | February 19th, 2013 at 1:19 pm
Hoda Kotb said the best way to use panty liners was to stick them in the soles of your shoes. That it makes walking on heels all cushiony soft. Next time wear some heels to the games and proudly show off WHY you have panty liners in your purse. Then run like hell.
6. Lovelyn | February 19th, 2013 at 1:20 pm
The feminine hygiene aspect should’ve have made you run to the computer and write that story down immediately.
I’m glad you waited though. I’ve only just started reading your blog and if you posted that a year ago, I would’ve missed it.
7. Rootietoot | February 19th, 2013 at 1:29 pm
Did you shrug and say “well, they are meant to soak up blood.”
8. Julia | February 19th, 2013 at 1:30 pm
If it’s any consolation, I keep hygiene products in my first aid kit on purpose. Of course, it’s the EQUINE first aid kit… They work great for patching up shin scrapes.
Use the old fashioned ones in a pinch for kid’s soccer pads.
(My son is sooooo screwed….)
9. Nancy Davis Kho | February 19th, 2013 at 1:53 pm
Did I ever tell you the one about my friend who got dressed for a big business meeting in the pre-dawn hours, in the dark so as not to wake his wife…around 11 am he needed to blow his nose so reached into his pocket for a hanky and pulled out…his wife’s lacy unmentionables which he’d grabbed by mistake. As he said, “Those other guys at the conference table were probably thinking, ‘He really loves his wife.’”
Your story is worse.
10. Shannon | February 19th, 2013 at 2:32 pm
You give the term “football pads” a whole new meaning.
11. Becky | February 19th, 2013 at 3:02 pm
After getting my own “flag football is for mathletes” lecture from my husband, I agreed to let our boys play tackle. Three years in, I can honestly say I do enjoy it (though it can be anxiety-inducing at times). But I have never whipped out a panty liner when asked for a tissue. The question is, did he use it?
12. Laurie | February 19th, 2013 at 3:52 pm
Actually they are used as wound dressing in emergency situations (I’m told some combat first aid but I can’t verify that so I might be passing on a myth) because they do a really good job with staunching the flow of blood. AND wikipedia says that they were developed by Ben Franklin as dressing for buckshot wounds!
That isn’t QUITE what you had going on here but next time this happens, you can totally own it and act like you meant to do that. Because everyone knows that trivia saves you in embarrassing situations.
13. Former Austinite | February 19th, 2013 at 6:53 pm
“Little did we know the greatest danger our young athlete would face on the gridiron would be his mother.” Wendi you know I love ya’ but I can’t believe this wasn’t your first thought!
14. Missy @ Wonder, Friend | February 19th, 2013 at 7:47 pm
“Ain’t no Mathlete going to do that.” So funny.
Love that Sam ran with his eyes closed. That’s how P played his entire season of soccer – kind of a miracle I didn’t have to staunch a bloody nose with a couple of tampons, really.
15. deborah l quinn | February 20th, 2013 at 1:56 am
eh. it’s just fancy kleenex attached to two-sided sticky tape. I am just impressed that A) you’re the kind of person who carries those around because I’m the kind of person who ends up wadding kleenex into her unmentionables on “those days” … and B) at least it wasn’t a USED panty liner. THAT would’ve been gross.
16. Tinne from Tantrums and Tomatoes | February 20th, 2013 at 4:15 am
And did he use it?
17. Anna | February 20th, 2013 at 9:41 am
Not sure if this makes me happy or sad I don’t live in Texas.
18. anna see | February 20th, 2013 at 11:08 am
Why is this a problem? I hear they’re super absorbent. Why don’t you have him stuff a tampon up his nose next time? With the plastic applicator, you won’t even muss your hands.
19. tracy@sellabitmum | February 20th, 2013 at 2:06 pm
So did he use it? We need to know.
20. Susan | February 20th, 2013 at 8:26 pm
you can’t say you weren’t prepared. Those things will suck up a ton of blood plus they’re good for oversized bandages.
I will say, don’t give up on mathletes, think Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, and every other engineer that graduates right now and has jobs waiting. We live in the south so I understand the football fever. I just tell my daughters, “look for the nerds and follow the money.”
21. Tracy | February 22nd, 2013 at 5:34 pm
Amazing. I can’t even tell you how many times I have pulled out my wallet in a store and an unwrapped tampon has been somehow stuck inside it. Those bitches always come out of the wrapper when they’re hanging out with the Cheerios in the bottom of my bag.
22. Kristen | March 4th, 2013 at 3:20 pm
Holy hell, I just almost peed myself reading that.
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