It’s the week of the Super Bowl, and this year, it’s in my city of Indianapolis, less than 5 miles away from my front door. It’s all anyone can talk about, if you live in the Circle City.
Since I’m a bucket list kind of girl, anytime I get a chance to do something out of the ordinary, I pounce on it.
Michael and I planned all last week that on Saturday we would take the kids downtown to visit the Super Bowl Village, and see the sights and lights.
*above image by Casey.
We plotted and planned. The kids were napped early and their bellies filled. We bundled everyone up in their warmest winter gear. Michael printed off a map of downtown, and we knew exactly where we wanted to go, and what we wanted to see. It was our “game time”.
Piper and Nola were excited, as were Michael and I. WE WERE GOING TO THE SUPER BOWL! (ok, not really going to the Super Bowl, but when you’re seven years old, it’s about as good as it’s going to get).
But I forgot about one small detail. A detail that weighs about 8 pounds.
I have a two week old little baby.
And I’m horribly sleep deprived.
And I also have a two year old (amongst my 4 and 7 year old).
As we walked towards downtown, the miscalculation of my abilities hit me harder than the subzero windchill blowing in my face.
Me to Michael: “This feels overwhelming”.
Michael to Me: “We don’t have to do this, let’s not kill ourselves”.
Suddenly, the thought of walking around with 4 small children (one who was only 14 days old, strapped to my chest in a moby wrap), in freezing temperatures, with thousands of other crazy football fans, in the dark of the night, panicked me. Why did I think this would be fun? What was I thinking?
And just like that, we stop the stroller, turn the crew around, and head back to the car.
Piper, my seven year old, immediately starts to cry. We had obviously been hyping up the event all day about how cool it was going to be, and now we were heading home empty handed.
“Hey Piper, what if on the way home we pick up ice cream. And then when we get home, we watch a movie? We’ll even let you stay up past your bedtime.”
And that’s all it took. A Super(Bowl) of ice cream, in the flavor of her choice.
She was sold, and the evening was totally redeemed. Who needs the Super Bowl when you have ice cream in a stale green cone and a movie streamed off Netflix?
Friends, we’re a cumbersome and awkward group right now. Life at our house is moving slowly, and that’s not at all a bad thing. They say if you can parent 3 kids, adding a 4th is no big deal. I’m not buying into that advice just yet.
I’m scattered, I’m messy, and my act is nowhere near together like it should be. But you guys, days with a newborn you can’t get back. I’m enjoying each and every mundane moment of my life right now, even the disheveled and dirty parts.
Eating ice cream while snuggling my newborn? So much better than dumb football festivities (or so I’m convincing myself). And anyway, there’s always a next time the Super Bowl is hosted just a few miles from my house. Right?
I’m super excited to be partnering with Hallmark this year for its “Life Is A Special Occasion” campaign. It’s truly my honor to be able to tell you stories about my everyday special moments, and having them sponsored by Hallmark is like hot fudge on my vanilla sundae.