Last week was eventful. My weeks usually are but this time it was in a good way. I took my girls to the Lana Del Rey concert last Tuesday. She is one of my faves, I am a big time fan girl. I love her music, she's poetic, kind of vintage and she has a sadness about her that I can relate to. I was so darn excited. My kids really like her too- especially my oldest. Other kids like Taylor Swift and One Direction - my kids like Lana Del Rey and Two Steps from Hell. That's how we roll.
We drove up and listened to all of her albums. We were pumped. We went to dinner at this amazing Japanese restaurant - we had tempura, a ramen bowl, green tea ice cream. The girls chatted excitedly about the concert, our upcoming trip, school. It was really nice- just the three of us. Then we headed to the arena. We had nosebleeds (because that's what I could afford) but we had a good view of the stage so it was fine.
She was so pretty and her voice sounded so good. We sang along and got litty (as the kids would say). It was a really amazing. It was a bucket list item for me. I let the kids pay hooky the next day and we napped. Bad Mom Award.
The rest of the week was a whirl wind, I cleaned, drove kids around, had an amazing dinner downtown with friends and the Super Bowl on Sunday.
We don't watch football in my house but we always watch the Super Bowl. It's an excuse to eat chicken wings and yell at the TV. This year was even better because our team was playing. My husband and I grew up 45 minutes outside of Philly. My mom, dad, grandparents were born in Philly so we grew up Eagles fans by default.
Where we're from, everyone walks around in Eagles jerseys - it's Eagles country. When I was a kid, I knew that Sundays ( and sometimes Monday nights) in the fall would be spent with my dad in front of TV. It wasn't just the games though- football season at our house started when training camp began and didn't end until the Eagles were out of the season. Every time we were in the car, my dad would put on 610 WIP Sports Talk and I listened as they driveled on endlessly about Rich Kotite and Randall Cunningham. I was a 12 year old girl, I could care less, to be honest.
"Dad, can we just put on the radio?" I'd groan. He'd be like
The Eagles were actual shit. Terrible. My entire childhood, my entire life. They sucked. In spite of this, every year my father was pumped. He was convinced that THIS YEAR was the year that the Eagles were going to get their championship. He was so hopeful that HIS team that he believed in and had followed his whole life, was going to come through for him.
I used to pray for the Eagles to win because depending on how the football game went on Sunday, that's how your week would go. If the Eagles lost on Sunday, my dad would be in a shit mood all week. You knew that if the Eagles bombed on Sunday, you were getting grounded on Monday for no reason at all. You wouldn't even ask to go out with friends. But if they won - good times would be had by all. Every Sunday, I'd be like Dear God. Please let the Eagles win. I need a new pair of boots and there is a party on Friday....
That seems crazy now. How can football affect someone so much? Then I grew up and I had an epiphany about it. My dad was in his 30s, living in New Jersey. It was cold and miserable. Property taxes were high as hell. He had 4 terrible children, a wife that hated him, a job he disliked. What else was there to live for? Maybe Eagles football was the only thing keeping him from ending it all. Sundays were the one time he didn't have to deal with anyone and he could just forget about all the other shit. Bless that man, I don't know how he did it.
I was pumped that the Eagles made it to the Super Bowl this year but annoyed that the Patriots made to the Super Bowl again. I kind of hate the Patriots. I would have rooted against any team that played the Patriots. I feel like everyone is a Patriots fan- it's so cliche. Also, I think Tom Brady is douche-y for leaving his pregnant wife. This is me every time the Patriots win a Super Bowl:
I made a big spread for the game. We had a hoagies, wings, buffalo dip, chips with salsa and guacamole, egg rolls, pizza rolls, chips and dip. I went all in for just my family and my brother. I invited my dad over but he said he was to anxious to be around other people. He was probably right.
My brother came over to watch the game with us, which made me happy. My kids were excited for the Eagles but my brother and I were trying to remind them not to get their hopes up. "Listen, we've seen this before. Be cautiously optimistic - the Eagles don't just go around winning Super Bowls." and "Y'all don't even know how many ass whoopings we have endured because of the Philadelphia Eagles." My brother had me dying, "Being an Eagles fan prepares you for life. You learn to endure many, many years of suffering and disappointment. It's a metaphor."
We were on the edge of our seats the whole game- there was screaming, there was yelling, there was praying. I went full New Jersey and may have called Tom Brady as p*ssy. It was a little out of control. The game was coming to an end and the Eagles were ahead but my brother and I REFUSED to get excited until the game was over because the Patriots can score 8 touchdowns in 30 seconds.
The clock ran down and the Eagles had won it. We were in disbelief, my brother asked me to pinch him, we all screamed, cheered, jumped around and cried actual tears. We didn't have fireworks so we did the next best thing - we banged pots and pans outside and we cheered, "GO EAGLES!" Sometimes, we like to remind our neighbors that they live next to white trash.
Most of all, I missed my dad. I wished he was there with us. I texted him: I'm happy for you, daddy. I know you waited a lifetime for this. I love you.
It was an amazing night. If the Eagles can win a Super Bowl and beat the Patriots - anything is possible. That means there is hope in hopeless situations. It means that sometimes with enough work, the little guy can get ahead. Or maybe not, maybe it's just football.
There was a little bit of magic in last week. It made me sooooo happy.
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