Red Shoes and the Barefoot Divas

A couple of weeks ago, I headed out with my girlfriends to enjoy the vocal and poetic stylings of the Barefoot Divas at Leeward Community College.  This fabulously talented group of ladies hail from New Zealand, Australia and Papua New Guinea and represent a collaboration of well known Native artists.  The effect was stunning. The vocals, the costumes, the music, the spoken word, the musicians, the atmosphere was truly spectacular and I basked in the womanly ambiance of it all with my own group of sistahs by my side.

These lovely ladies, as they are so aptly named, perform barefoot. . .well, with the exception of one spicy Maori/Welsh/Gypsy songstress, in her red heels.  As she sang and danced on stage, my friend leaned over and whispered to me, "there's just something about red heels that are SO sexy!".  Amen and amen, sister.  I sat there mulling over this statement and thought to myself, "Delia, when was the last time you owned a pair of sexy red heels?". Ah, never. Next question, "Delia, when was the last time you owned a pair of heels?". Hmm, too long for me to remember.

Of course that internal dialogue led me to contemplate as to why I don't wear heels and why I've never owned a pair of red shoes, period.  First and foremost, I'm just not a 'shoe' person. My mantra is: comfort and economy over style.  I've never enjoyed shoe shopping, never drooled over a pair of open-toed Manolos like Carrie Bradshaw or envisioned myself out on the town in Jimmy Choo strappy sandals. I'd honestly prefer to go around in a pair of Scotts slippers or barefoot, like my indigenous sisters on stage-at home, work and yes, even when I'm performing on stage. (Honestly, I think Lina and I take off our shoes on stage a lot, lol).  Second, I've owned heels in the past but as I get older and more abundant in figure, it's just not comfortable, doesn't look too good and is downright dangerous sometimes! Picture me falling down a flight of stairs, tiny heels snapping like twigs-well at least that's the image that comes to my mind.

So as I reflected on all of those things while sitting in a darkened theater enjoying the display of diverse beauty celebrated before me, I made myself a little promise.  I am going to own a pair of red heels before the year is out. Let me declare again, to the universe and all interested (and disinterested) parties: I, Delia Leiala Parker Ulima, will purchase and wear a pair of hot, sexy, taller than 1/2 inch pair of heels by December 31, 2014 (picture proof forthcoming). There, I've said it and in doing so, have put the wheels of intention in motion. May the 'barriers' be removed to meet my goal-those barriers being, in no particular order: finding shoes in my size, finding shoes I like and that complement my Hawaiian footsies, and most importantly, getting to a point in my mind and body where I feel GOOD wearing them and flaunting them, and the legs attached to the feet they're on.

My path to becoming a red heel wearing goddess starts here, folks. By all means, you're welcome to join me on this quest. The Red-Heeled Divas Club has been founded, any takers?

But don't worry, I'll always be a barefoot diva at heart. . .

When Your Husband is Injured: An Ode to Florence Nightingale, Everyday Women and Overdue Ephiphanies

So the Hubby and I have been trying to embrace a healthier lifestyle.  What that's equated to thus far is a lot of green smoothies, no fast food, healthy home-cooked meals and daily exercise.  Two weeks into the new year and we were feeling pretty good about things.  Our favorite healthy activity has included our daily walks and runs at Kakaako Waterfront Park. What's not to love there? I mean besides the cat colony and tents. There's big green hills, great walking and bike paths, stunning ocean views and gorgeous sunsets. I walk Snoop while Hubby runs the hills and we all get some fresh air.

A couple of days ago, we're following our routine and I'm walking to meet him on the hill he likes to workout on. I don't see him anywhere and as I'm looking, he calls me up. "I'm behind you, hon, I injured myself."  Worried, I find him and he proceeds to tell me that as he was sprinting up a hill for the fourth time, he heard a loud "pop" in his left calf, felt immediate pain and had to sit down. He tried to walk it off but it was really sore. Images of torn tendons fill my head and I try to assist him as he limps toward the van. "I got this," he says, brushing off my attempts to help him walk. Macho.

Of course, Mr. Man refuses to go to the hospital, so I urge him to seek 'medical advice' via the internet and he reads the acronym, "R.I.C.E."-Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevate. So RICE it is-at home, I grab the ice bag, some pillows for his leg and situate my 'patient' on the couch. He waives off my offers of pain killers and insists that it's not a big deal.  As the evening progresses, so does the pain and we know it won't just go away. "I'm taking you to the doctor tomorrow!", I insist. I will do it even if I have to drag his prideful self there.

The next morning finds me up way before my normal awake time because now I have to be the chauffeur, not only to my son (who Hubby usually takes to school) but Hubby's client, who needs a ride from Kalihi all the way to Mililani by 8am! Geez. I call in sick to work, shuttle my child and Hubby's client to their destinations, take my in-laws to their doctor's appointments and return home to take care of my invalid partner. I proceed to clean the dishes, make lunch, do laundry and prep for dinner. Then I'm off to pick up my in-laws, work out at the gym, pick up the client in Mililani, pick up my son and take Hubby to the orthopedic specialist.

Doc takes a look at it and thank goodness it's not an Achilles injury (whew!), but it is a torn calf muscle and he'll need therapy (serious?!?) and lots of rest. He's using crutches now (incidentally, the crutches in the storehouse that he was emphatic about tossing out not a month ago, to which I replied, "What if we need it one day?" and he asked, "Who's gonna use it?". Gee, I really hate to have been right on this point. After the doctor's, I drive to Costco (did I mention that I don't really like driving very much?), go shopping by myself, load up the groceries in the car alone (although Hubby did try to assist), and carried them into the house (again, he tried to help and dropped the almond milk and almost tumbled down the stairs). "Don't try to help when you're lame!", I exclaim. I put them away and started dinner while helping Sonny with homework and checking on my patient. I get the feeling that Hubby is enjoying this energetic, attentive and domesticated version of his wife.

During the course of the evening, I had to keep catching myself every time I wanted to yell out, "Hon, can you bring in the clothes in from the dryer?", "Hon, can you take Snoop out to go bathroom?". Of course, I called on my son to do those things, instead, but I digress. Then it hit me, and I said to myself, "Delia, your Hubby does A LOT around here everyday!".  Because of his flexible work schedule, he takes my son and in-laws around and me to work, he does the shopping while I text him a list of what I need from the store. He makes dinner almost every night and usually cleans and does laundry during the day. And he drives EVERYWHERE. Wow, it sucked to do everything myself. I mean, this Nurse Nightingale and Domestic Goddess thing was wearing on my nerves. Don't get me wrong, I work and do my share of cleaning and laundry and help my son with homework but there's a ton of stuff my Hubby does that I guess I take for granted.

I explained this epiphany to my bestie over the phone and I asked, "Is this typical of most men?" or, dare I say it, "Am I spoiled?". Her reply: "Uh, no this is NOT typical and yes, you are spoiled. Let me just say that what you described is typical of what most WOMEN do every day, at least all the women I know. You are VERY lucky."

How could I be so blind? I mean, I knew my Hubby rocked in the domestic skills department but I didn't think what he did was atypical, don't all husbands and partners do this for their wives-shouldn't they? Apparently not.  It took my Hubby getting injured for me to realize this and I felt both grateful and guilty at the same time. Maybe I should do more? After 21 years, surely this man knew and understand who he had married and committed to as his eternal companion and accepted me, right?

As I tucked him into bed and checked that he had water beside him and his blankets and pillows in place, he thanked me for taking care of him and being his nurse, to which I smiled and in my typical, automatic, wise-crack, thats-so-Delia fashion I responded, "Sure thing, just don't make this getting injured thing a habit!"  Hubby cracks up laughing and as I turn to leave the room, I thank God that my Hubby gets me, really gets me, and likes me anyway.

Get well soon, my love. . .the floor needs mopping. ;)

"Bring a Main Dish". . .A New Year's Resolution Mantra

While discussing her upcoming family holiday gathering over lunch, my friend expressed her concerns over the meal to be prepared and the fact that certain family members always brought side dishes while she and her husband usually brought a main course.  I could relate and I told her that after years of a similar fate, I finally just asked for what I wanted with the following request-"Bring a main dish."

It was as if a light went off in her head, a great epiphany had taken place. "Bring a main dish," she uttered. "Bring a main dish. That's brilliant! I think that will be my mantra this year!. Obviously attributing a deeper meaning to this simple statement, she had found inspiration in these words and I mulled over the different situations where this phrase could apply to in my own life.

For island people, food is a very important part of any gathering.  Ask any local and they'll tell you what they ate for lunch or what was served at a party they attended over the weekend or what they're 'ono' for right now. The true mark of success for any island event is how well the food was enjoyed by the guests. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it is a cardinal sin for an island party to NOT have enough food, as it is common for hosts to insist that guests take home plates of food to enjoy later or to feed family members who were unable to attend.

When you're invited to a dinner or get together, the first thing you ask here is, "What can I bring?". If the host says, "nothing, just come", you bring something anyway. And when you ARE asked to bring food, you better bring enough. I do feel for people not from the islands who are unaware of this unspoken rule. Perhaps all visitors and newcomers should receive a list of do's and don'ts when they arrive-much like filling out the mandatory agricultural forms on the airplane when coming to Hawaii. At the top of that list would be the following warning: "When asked to bring food to a local party (especially if you're bringing your whole family), DON'T BRING CHIPS."

So it is with this cultural context that I reflected on my dear friend's interpretation of, "Bring a main dish", and why she would choose this as her mantra for the new year.  I suppose that for her it meant to 'bring your best', 'bring your fair share', 'show you care'. Bringing a main dish also refers to an abundance mentality as opposed to a lack mentality.

With that, I've come up with a number of possible scenarios in which this mantra might be utilized:

To a child who gives a lackluster performance during a soccer game: "Son, when you come to the playing field, bring a main dish!"

To a co-worker who relies on other team members to do the bulk of the work on a project: "Sally, in the interest of the entire team, may I recommend that you bring a main dish when we start this next initiative?".

To a spouse who expects you to work AND do all the housework while he watches TV: "Ah, honey, I'm telling you right now, I'm tired of being the only one who brings a main dish to this relationship!".

To the face in the mirror who doesn't want to go jogging in the morning: "Girl, you got this, it's time to bring a MAIN DISH!".

Well, I've beaten this mantra to death, but I think you've gotten the point.  Whatever your goals are this year, whatever resolutions or grand visions you have for yourself, your family or your business, whatever your theme or mantra, may you find success and may you always BRING A MAIN DISH!

Happy New Year!

"I'm Thinking of Becoming a Vegan."

"I'm thinking of becoming a vegan." Those were the words I uttered in the car after my husband and son picked me up from my company's annual holiday training and party, the theme of which focused on health and well-being, complete with vendors (one of which was a vegan restaurant).

Brief silence.

"Buahahahaha! You're kidding, right?", is the response from the insensitive driver, "There's no way you could handle that!".

"No, I'm not kidding. You know we've been trying to eat better and today I tried some vegan dishes that I really liked."

From the back seat, "Mom, what is a vegan?".  Ah, my only child, surely a voice of support once he sees how mommy wants to change her fast-food eating ways.

"Well, vegans don't eat meat, cheese, ice cream, eggs-things like that."

"What do they eat?"

"Leafy stuff and grains and fruits."

Another silence.

"I agree with dad, mom."  E tu, Sonny?

"Yeah, hon, after a day or two, you'll have to get injected with a hamburger!". More laughter and jeering from the #evilone that I've been married to for over two decades.

How dare these two. . .boys. . .doubt my desire to embrace a new lifestyle! Can't they see me mixing green smoothies in the morning and eating homemade kale chips for a snack? Perhaps a vegan eggnog on Christmas Eve?  And in between nutrient-filled, plant-based meals, going for brisk walks and sweating through hot yoga? What is so difficult to imagine about that??!!!?? 

Sure, I constantly post photos of poke bowls, banana splits, baked goods and plates of food from places like Tsukiji's and Highway Inn. Ok, I go out of my way when I travel to plot out the local eateries and capture shots of me devouring butter rolls from 4 Sisters Bakery on Maui, New York pizzas, soul food in D.C. and In and Out Burgers in California. It's part of my travel adventures!

Now I can post photos of . . .papaya salad in San Francisco,
lentil soup in Florida and almond milk ice cream in
Oregon.  A random image of a rib-eye steak flashes in my mind. #temptation

Every figure in history faced heaps of temptation on their quest for greatness, right?

I shoot my husband and son side-way glances of irritation. #nonbelievers #dreamkillers

I'll show them! I will start with a menu and a grocery list, I'll google the best vegan recipes and consult with people like my niece, who has lived a vegan lifestyle for some time now (and looks fantabulous!). Then I remember that Foodland is coming up ahead on the right and they have some great brownies.

"Um, can we stop by Foodland?"

"What for?"

"I just need to buy something."

"Uh huh", he replies with a smug look on his face.  Eh, he can keep the smug look while I enjoy my brownies. . .and plan for the great vegan conversion on Monday.

Thanks, Mom

On this day of the year, we make a collective effort, as a society, to be mindful of the people, circumstances and things in our lives that we are grateful for.  Despite the varying view points surrounding the actual origin of this particular American tradition in regards to its Native inhabitants, I think that the focus on expressing and feeling gratitude is a beautiful thing and one that is often neglected in our hectic daily lives.

As with most women, the holidays are often a mark of a season of "busyness". There are menus and dishes to prepare, sentiments and gifts to share, lists to make, people to get to, houses to clean and, inevitably, pounds to shed at the start of the new year.  My hubby and I have tried to pare down the craziness this year by keeping things simple and focusing on improving something in our home as a family. We decided to spend the last couple days moving my son into my mom's old room.  It is bigger, cooler and, since her passing four years ago, has remained somewhat in limbo.  This project entailed cleaning, moving, purging (my favorite), and decorating his 'big boy' room and bathroom.

We ended the day with preparing the majority of the food for today's Thanksgiving meal.  Hubby made the ham (that's our family tradition, we don't have the turkey thing down), the potato salad, the rice and I made the stuffing (Stove Top), the gravy (just add water), salad (a new recipe I tried with pecans, goat cheese and cranraisins), and my famous once-a-year (because it takes way too long and is expensive to make) banana cream delite.  After a morning at the annual Turkey Bowl touch football game for the boys and watching some of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade for me and Snoop, our little trio sat to a quick, simple and delicious collaboratively prepared meal, which we shared with mom, dad and uncle, as well, before they went off to visit family.

As I sat at the table, my mind couldn't help but to recall Thanksgivings past-memories filled with family, good times and lots of food, all prepared by our mom, of course.  When my dad passed away I was six years old and my mom was left to be the sole provider and parent for six children, ranging from ages 4-19. And yet, not a birthday or holiday went by without gifts, decorations, thoughtful touches and a table laden with homemade delicacies.  Mom worked grueling hours at the Juvenile Detention Facility and, never having learned how to drive, caught the bus to and from work each day, sometimes after 16-hour shifts.  Still, every fourth Thursday of November, we awoke to the smells of turkey and homemade stuffing in the oven wafting down the halls and stairs of our two-story Kalihi home.  The gravy was homemade, the pies and crust were lovingly prepared by her hands and the table was set with the best serving dishes. All for us, her little family, and prepared all by herself.  With the exception of my oldest sister, who was her helper, and my second oldest, who was off at college or on a mission, the four youngest were, how to say it best-spoiled? Lazy, maybe? Yes, I admit and accept it (sorry for calling out my other three siblings on this, but you know it's true, lol)!  Mom never complained and never yelled at us (although she should have) to help cook, or even set the table or clean up afterwards. She just wanted to see us happy, fed and content. And that we always were.

And so today, as I lifted fork to mouth, I turned to hubby and said, "You know, I can't imagine that mom did this alone for years on end, making things from scratch and doing all the hard work without complaint." I felt her spirit with me and I felt overwhelmed with gratitude and humility for being raised by a woman who emulated the true spirit of motherhood, sacrifice and love.  We all do the best we can with what we know, and I can only hope to pass on to my son some of the lessons that my mom passed on to me.  I'm not sure I'll ever conduct myself with the grace and absolute selflessness that my mom embodied, but I can certainly strive to do so.  With all I am and all I have, I want to say "thank you, mom"-today and everyday. I love you.

A Place in the Middle

Disclaimer: The views expressed here are solely those of this blogger and do not necessarily represent the views of my family, church, friends or dogs, for that matter-just plain ‘ole me!  There’s enough material out there in the universe for you to read up on regarding both sides of the same-sex marriage issue. If you were hoping for an in-depth theological, legal or social debate here, I’m sorry to disappoint.

Over the last couple of weeks, our peaceful little island community has been rocked by one of the most controversial issues of our time.  When Governor Abercrombie pushed for a special session in the state legislature to consider SB 1, a bill that would legalize same-sex marriage in Hawaii, there was no way to foresee the public outcry, uproar and emotional rollercoaster that would ensue in the ‘Aloha’ state.  I could review the chronology of events-the bill’s introduction, the key players, the committee hearings, the floor votes, the rallies, the sign-waving, the press conferences. I could regurgitate some of the speeches given during the record-breaking 57 hours of live testimony (the inspiring, the ignorant and the incredulous).  I could talk about the articles written, the commercials aired, the accusations made and the threats uttered.  I could commend the enormous show of civic participation, the political dialogue generated and the interest peaked in everyday citizens of all ages and backgrounds to obtain knowledge about the legislative process and the workings of their government.  I could go on (and on) about the deluge of Facebook posts, comments, threads, links, videos, pictures and overnight scholars that emerged on this subject matter.

I could describe the sights and sounds of the last two weeks. The rainbow lei worn by SB 1 supporters and the dark blue shirts worn by those in opposition.  The signs held by kupuna and children, men and women from all walks of life, stating their bearer’s position: “Save Traditional Marriage”, “Let the People Choose”, “I Support Marriage Equality”, “Love not Hate”. The Hawaiian flag, the rainbow flag floating gently in the Hawaiian breeze. The pleas, the prayers, the proposals.  And always, always in the background, the raised voices of the masses chanting at the State Capitol for hours on end, “Let the People Vote”,  “Let the People Vote”!!!  

After all is said and done and the silence of relief or resignation ensues, the images and sounds of this moment in history will not so easily be erased.  

I could mention the rift that seems to have divided our community in two. Today, officials literally divided the sign-wavers and capitol audience in two, so as to be fair in representation and safe in temporary segregation.  There have been relationships between family members and friends that have been damaged and it has felt particularly 'icky' around here lately. I fear that these memories will live collectively within the people of Hawaii for many years to come and I pray for healing, understanding and compassion.

I confess: I’ve avoided the rallies, refused to watch most of the live testimony and steered clear of uncomfortable conversations in general (although I confess to camping on FB) because I’ve found much of the dialogue to be divisive, hurtful, unyielding in position and sometimes just ridiculous.  I was there many years ago when this was before the legislature and was so disappointed in the behavior of many back then that I vowed I wouldn’t go be in the front row as a witness, again. Unfortunately, this time, it was much worse than I could have imagined.

 I’ve been appalled at the vitriol that has been spewed forth in the name of the God and Savior that I worship and at the same time, I haven’t appreciated being categorized or written off as ‘sheep’ just because I choose to believe in them. I’ve witnessed the Native Hawaiian community grow farther apart and just as I support traditional practices and beliefs, I want to be respected as a Hawaiian with my own set of values and beliefs handed down to me from my kupuna.

For me, and I’m sure this can be said of many others, it has been an emotional and often confusing time.  Ever the analytic and true to my Libra tendencies, I’ve considered both sides of the coin.  I’ve heard the arguments, studied the issues, and discussed the matter with select family and close friends. I’ve considered the legal, cultural, societal and spiritual ramifications of same-sex marriage. Above all, I have relied on my foundation, my faith, and tried to check in constantly with my own spirit, or na’au ,to guide me.

I cannot and will not try to convince others to my point of view.  I am, however, open to respectful discussion.  What I can do is share the conclusions and commitments that I have personally reached as a result of this journey thus far.  I watched a great video today that talks about everyone having their own ‘closets to come out of’, so if this qualifies as one, here I go:

·      I claim the privilege of worshipping God and Jesus Christ, and I have a testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel.  My beliefs are sacred to me and an integral part of who I am and how I live my life.

·      I honor the fact that other people do NOT share my beliefs and that they have their own values, beliefs and creeds that they live by that are sacred to them and they have a right to live their own truth.

·      I understand the difference between God’s laws and man’s laws.

·      I fully support each person’s right to participate in government processes (that includes testifying, telling their legislators off, holding signs, watching hours on end of live testimony on Channel 54 and responding to any and all Facebook posts relating to same-sex marriage).

·      I do NOT condone hate speech, violence, threats and outright ignorance (or those who are unwilling to even consider that there may be other viable positions that are contrary to their own).

·      I support the protection of religious freedom and religious exemptions that are available under the law, broad enough and clear enough for everyone to understand.

·      I support equality for all people.

As parents, this is what my husband and I have committed to do:

·      We will raise our son in our religion and try to live our values and beliefs the best we know how, knowing that he has free agency and will believe and live as he sees fit as an adult (yes, when he leaves my house, lol).

·      We have spoken with our son about tolerance, acceptance and compassion and the value of learning from those who do not share our beliefs or viewpoints.

·      We have been very clear with our son about bullying and what is NOT acceptable language anywhere (like “that’s so gay” and “faggot”).

·      We have had age-appropriate discussions with our son regarding homosexuality, stereotypes surrounding the LGBT community, SB 1 and same-sex marriage, in general.

·      We will raise our son to embrace people from all walks of life. That includes hanging out with gay friends and family members and yes, attending their fabulous weddings, should they be kind enough to invite us.

·      We will do our very best to lead by example and to teach our son to not be afraid of what he doesn’t know, to seek to understand and to LOVE and RESPECT others. . .

I don’t know if I’ll be accepted as someone who can simply see and accept both sides of this issue. I'll be the first to admit that there's so much I don't know or understand and there are things I am sure about.  If I went to the Capitol today, I wouldn’t know which side of the ‘line’ to stand on. You probably wouldn’t find me wearing a rainbow lei, per se, or even chanting, “Let the People Vote”. You’d be more likely to find me here and there, talking story, giving hugs, handing out cookies, holding up a homemade sign that reads, “Aloha Kekahi I Kekahi-Love One Another”, while supporting religious freedom AND the right to love and be treated equally. So for now, a place in the middle will just have to do.

Tales From the End Zone

Saturday in Hawai'i and I find myself doing what hundreds of other mothers are obligated, I mean, happy to do. . .watch my son play football.  This week's Big Boy league game took the Rock Solid Crusaders of Kalihi to picturesque Kahalu'u on Oahu's North Shore.  I arrive an hour before kick-off, my son adorned in full gear, hubby and his uncle in Rock Solid red and Snoop in tow.

My family heads off to the field without me, seeing as I'm engrossed in a serious phone discussion with my BFF about the hearings currently taking place at the State Capitol around a proposed same-sex marriage law before the legislature (possible blog to follow).  After I hang up, I hesitate for a moment, but decide to leave the iPad in the car. I will be an attentive and supportive football mom today, no re-reading "When Water Burns" on the Kindle app, as much as I'd like to. I'm here for Sonny, period.

It's another scorcher on the island, the noon game sun is strong (who made this schedule, anyway?) but the trade winds provide the onlookers with a reprieve from the humidity, as they cool the land from mountain to sea.  The field is a wide expanse of lush, green grass. The Ko'olau mountains provide a majestic backdrop, and the ocean waves beckon just across the street. I sigh with gratitude for such beauty. If I'm gonna watch a football game, I can't think of a better place to view it. It seems like there are hundreds of people scattered about the field, teams playing and players awaiting their game. Coaches, referees, family members and friends are scattered about in various phases of participation-cheering, clapping, shouting out plays, blowing whistles, setting up tents to fend off the heat, children running about throwing rocks. I stop to scold one of the kids, "Eh, stop tro-ing rocks!". (My pidgin turns on when I yell, particularly at naughty local kids.)

Hubby decides to lead me, the chihuahua and his uncle, who is healing from a leg surgery, clear across the other side of the field to the north end zone. He stops intermittently to ask where I want to sit. After a recommendation or two that doesn't meet his approval, I tell him, "Lead away, Moses." He refrains from further inquiry.

I am a people watcher, for sure. That is what I find most interesting when I attend an athletic event.  Who did I watch today? Let's see. Well, there was the big scary coach who, during halftime, stood over his elementary-aged players and yelled at them about making "stupid" plays and how they needed to "get in the frickin' gap!". Lovely.  Sign up my kid for that team!  Then there's always the parent  (or two) who decides that their coaching skills are superior to that of the actual coach and proceeds to run alongside the sidelines yelling at their 9-year old about missed tackles and dropped balls. Thanks, dad! My favorite little people to watch, I have to admit, are the Rock Solid cheerleaders (we're the only team with cheerleaders, woot woot!) with their fabulous cheers, total dedication and an array of Polynesian body types. My other favorites are the increasingly growing number of fierce little girls playing football with their male counterparts and bringing it big time. Tasha, Precious and Bridgette kick butt!

And then there's the mother who is unaware of what quarter it is, which team has the ball and where her child is on the field because she's camping on Facebook, listening to music, taking photos of the mountains and people-watching. That would be moi. (Don't judge me.) I mean I try, I root for my son and his team, I join the other parents on the field after the game to create the 'bridge' which the players run through while we all cheer, "We're so proud of you, said we're so proud of you!". I pat their little helmets as they file past me and say, "good game, uh... #44". Ok, so I don't really know their names. (Don't judge me.) I don't watch the practices like the other moms do, (I'm at work) I don't make the lunches (but I contribute money towards them). I don't have a team shirt (were they being sold this year?) I sell the fundraising tickets. . .well, I did last year.  Alright I didn't know my son was crying with the other boys after the game because this loss meant the end of their season (because I retreated to the van) and I kinda found out via a Facebook comment. (Don't judge me!) I talked to him about it afterwards!

Ok, I kinda suck as a football mom. But I'm there and I wash his uniform (well Hubby did this time, but I have before), and I love my son and I buy him food before and after the game and tell him that he's improving and played well and tell him, "GOOD GAME,  #99!".  (Don't judge me, lol).

Until next season, this football mom is O-U-T!