Dear Kid,

We’ve been in Pittsburgh for several hours now and I’m happy to report that I haven’t been mauled by raving Steeler fans. I haven’t even seen a Steeler fan (although they might be traveling incognito).

Quick: What professional sports teams call Pittsburgh home? That should be an easy one, so you don’t get any extra points for adding the Pirates and the Penguins to the list with the Steelers. But can you name the professional soccer team? They’re called the Riverhounds and they are an affiliate partner with the Columbus Crew (don’t fuss—I said professional, not MLS).

There are several women’s full-contact football teams in Pittsburgh, as well as a whole slew of rugby teams. There have to be a lot of teams—they keep murdering each other, and need replacement players.

Today we are off to play the sport of Not Freezing To Death At The End of March. (It was snowing last night. Ridiculous.)

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I’m so proud to be from Cincinnati. And a Cincinnati Bengals fan.

Sigh.

I’m still a fan of the Bengals. But the whole professional behavior thing has to be addressed.

Clearly, the Bengals aren’t the only team demonstrating unacceptable behavior recently. I understand when celebrities and pro athletes say they should be left alone. They just want to do their jobs (act, sing, score touchdowns) without being judged on their off-field/off-screen behavior. Except, um, no. You’re in a profession which puts you in the spotlight, you are a role model whether you originally intended to be or not, and ergo paparazzi. Behave yourself, be boringly normal, and people will leave you alone.

As I said, I understand (even if I don’t agree with) the desire to be left alone outside the work environment.

Recent, er, displays, however, have been on-field. During important games.

Something must be done.

I have put a great deal of thought into the whole professional athlete debacle and I am delighted to announce that I have figured out how to solve the problem.

Pro sports teams need moms.

I am not joking.

When your mom is watching you, you behave better. Assuming you have a good mom who is involved in your life, anyway. And if the team doesn’t have the right mom, I’ve decided the league should provide them.

Consider the Campbell’s Soup commercials with that the football player (I’m sure you know who I’m talking about) and his mom. He loves Mom, he respects Mom, and he has never been involved with the kind of nonsense we’re seeing both on and off the field from other players.

Point proven.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Turns out yesterday really was a Monday. I know this because the calendar said so. Also because I spilled my coffee (twice). And because the Bengals lost.

Before you jump to “But the Bungles are supposed to lose. That’s what they do!” let me remind you that this year they had forgotten they were supposed to lose and were 8-0. Branching out. Trying new things. It was beautiful to behold.

Except for last night.

I take full responsibility. Not only did I spill my coffee (twice) [I really should have been more careful before a Monday night game], but I fell asleep. Zonked during the fourth quarter when I clearly should have been paying attention.

Woke up to the horrible news that if only I’d spilled a little more coffee into me and a little less everywhere else, I might have stayed awake long enough to ensure victory.

I thought Marvin and the team had it under control. I let them down. I let fans down. I let my eyelids down. And I really am sorry.

But we’re still 8-1 which is pretty dang awesome and I’ll do my best to lead the team to victory (from the couch) going forward.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Happy, happy me.

Three huge cheers for the Arizona Cardinals (who might now be my second favorite Football team) for hiring the first female coach in the NFL.

They have hired Dr. Jen Welter, whose only flaw seems to be that she went to the wrong college in Boston.

Know this: she can kick your butt—in a lot of ways. She played rugby at that unmentionable school, played pro football for 14 seasons, and was a running back for indoor football. Yes, the boys’ team.

In the article My Friend the Internet shared with me, she was quoted as saying, “I want little girls everywhere to grow up knowing they can do anything, even play football.”

As the mom of a girl who played football, that’s not what I want. I want men everywhere to know that girls can do anything, even play football. I want boys and girls to know that which restroom you use is not what defines you—it only defines what gossip you are privy to.

I also want boys and girls to know that football players don’t have to be stupid (although in high school it seems to help—you knew I couldn’t resist). This woman has a masters and a PhD. She is athletic, she is feisty, she is willing to break barriers (the social and mental kinds), and she is smart.

Being smart is cool. Being successful is cool.

Going to the Other College Down the Street is not, but at least she didn’t play ice hockey.

According to the aforementioned article, the football players are ready to get to work with her. Three cheers for them for being smart enough to recognize talent.

So to @jwelter47 from all of us who at one time or another have been the only woman in the room: Best of Everything. We’re standing there with you and can’t wait to see the great things you accomplish.

And to the leadership and players of the Cardinals @AZCardinals: Congrats on being smart. Wishing you a great season. Please don’t beat the Bengals.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Some plot lines are predictable.

This is excellent when you are watching Phantom of the Opera. It is terrible when you are watching the Bengals in the playoffs.

I was watching both (three cheers for the hardworking channel changer).

Phantom had higher notes and more elaborate costumes. Other than that, everyone followed their scripts.

The Phantom vanishes, Christine sings, and the Bengals lose. Yup, script followed.

No encore for the Bengals.

Well, guys, it’s been a good season. Here’s to next year.

Who Dey!

Love, Mom