Dear Kid,

There are some things in life I understand.

I understand that when you spill coffee on your favorite shirt it is likely to cause a permanent stain. I understand that weekends are often too short and that the Bengals are unlikely to make it to the Super Bowl. I understand that elves are not going to show up to clean our kitchen.

Doesn’t mean I have to like those things, but I understand them.

And then there are things in the world that I simply do not understand.

I don’t understand people who abuse children. I don’t understand people who chop off journalists heads. I don’t understand people who take hostages in the Lindt Chocolat Cafe. I don’t understand people who kill other people because of the color of their skin. I don’t understand people who do crazy violent things in the name of religion (any religion).

On some level I know I’m not supposed to understand these people because they are psychopaths or psycho-bigots or psycho-somethings. Intellectually, I know they’ve been taught to hate and they’ve been taught that Violence Solves All.

Intellectually knowing doesn’t make it easier to understand. And there have been far, far too many scary-violent-unbalanced-disturbed-crazy things happening in our world.

Do I have a solution? Well, no. Perhaps just that we should all try a little harder.

And keep the crazy fighting where it belongs—in congress.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Yesterday was Sunday, and you know what that means: Bengals football!

And not just Bengals football—Bengals against the Steelers.

First quarter. No score.

But there was discussion about the Fourth Down Fumble Rule. And since I was dealing with my closet and chatting with my favorite bunny at the time, I missed most of the conversation. I didn’t know what the fourth down fumble rule was, so I looked it up. And got distracted with a whole bunch of other things.

Being That Kind of a Mom, I am here to share all this Important Information with you.

First, we must understand the difference between a fumble and a muff. A muff is a tube of fabric (generally fur) used mostly by women and girls to keep their hands warm. Kind of like a football handwarmer but classier and often white. Another definition is the tuft of feathers on the sides of the head of some fowl. (There are other non-sport definitions, but I’m not going there.)

In football a muff is “the touching of a loose ball by a player in an unsuccessful attempt to obtain possession.”

A fumble is “the loss of player possession of the ball.”

So: try to get it and miss, you’ve muffed; have it and lose it, you’ve fumbled.

In general, if a ball is fumbled there aren’t any restrictions on who can grab it.

HOWEVER, on fourth down, things change. If an offensive player fumbles the ball on fourth down, ONLY the fumbling player is allowed to recover the ball. (Same thing inside the two-minute warning.) If another offensive player recovers the ball, the ball is dead at the spot of the fumble (unless the recovery is behind the spot of the fumble in which case the ball is dead at the spot of recovery). Defenders are under no such restrictions. Which means if you’re on offense, you recover the ball to prevent the defense from getting it, not because you think you can improve your team’s possession.

Bottom line: Don’t fumble the ball.

Now you know.

Second quarter. People decide to score.

Steelers score (whatev). Bengals respond with a TD. Interception that isn’t because of a penalty (which interestingly is the first penalty of the game). And Bengals score! Woot! With 30 seconds left, Steelers are on the four yard line, 1^st and goal. And Roethlisberger throws 3 (count them three) passes that aren’t caught. Pittsburg settles for a field goal from the 4 yard line.

Nobody talked about chucking, but I found it while looking for the aforementioned fumble rule, and I didn’t know what it meant.

Chucking: Warding off an opponent who is in front of a defender by contacting him with a quick extension of arm or arms, followed by the return of arm(s) to a flexed position, thereby breaking the original contact. Kind of like punching, except not.

And we go to halftime leading 14-10.

Halftime: No idea what happened at halftime, because I went to eat an orange. Fact: no one eats part of your orange if you eat the orange when no one else is home.

Third Quarter: Wait, What?

We take an unnecessary time out (but you can’t have everything). A bunch of nothing happens. Eventually, the Steelers score and it’s 14-17. Then a bunch more nothing happens. Then—just as time expires—Andy throws the ball about a thousand yards to AJ Green—TD!.

Interesting fact of the quarter: When a team scores as time expires in the quarter, they take the PAT in that same quarter.

Which we do. 21-17. Who Dey!

Fourth Quarter. Sigh

Turns out the Steelers don’t like being scored upon, and they turn up the heat at the beginning of the quarter with a great catch, but have to settle for three. 21-20.

I find things from the Paleolithic era in my closet as the Bengals take over. Bengals find a mistake and Andy fumbles the ball during the handoff. Which is unfortunate because the Steelers find the endzone. 21-28 (yeah, they went for two). But wait! There’s a flag. And some words. And…unnecessary roughness against us. How does that help?

I went into my closet for a nanosecond, and when I came back the score was 21-35 with 8:21 left in the game. This is not how things were supposed to go.

Oh, jeez. Dalton gets walloped and Campbell, the backup QB, comes out for the 3^rd and 10. We don’t make it, but since we fouled we get to try again. Dalton is back. So glad he’s not hurt. We don’t make it so we punt—26 yards. Which in dog years means about 2 inches.

I go back into the closet, hoping my absence will mean football magic.

Not so much. While I now understand the 4th down fumble rule, I don’t have an explanation  the 4th Quarter Corollary in which the Bengals play three great quarters and forget to show up for the last 15 minutes. Sigh.

The game ends 21-42 which has some nice feng shui, but no other virtues I can discern.

The closet and I continue.

Keep the momentum.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

It is the perfect fall day.

The only things falling are leaves (no precipitation), the Bengals will be playing this afternoon, soup is happily bubbling on the stove, and all is (more or less) right with the world. At least our corner of the world.

I have Big Plans for the day (in addition to the soup). It’s time for Halloween decorations to get put away (assume someone helps me reach down the stuff that’s hanging up high), it’s time to go through the Pile on the Counter (scary—should have done that on Halloween), and it’s time to create a menu for the week. The probabilities for getting any of that done are crazy low because I’m going to the fab Girlfriendology’s house to watch the Bengals.

Some of Pi’s friends took Tal trick-or-treating to a few houses on Friday night. Her reaction? “I don’t understand why people just give out candy when you ask for it.” Isn’t culture interesting?

Did you see the recent political cartoon of two people, one dressed in a hazmat suit? The non-hazmat suit person said “Avoiding Ebola?” Hazmat Suit Man said, “No, political ads.” That’s about how I feel. I am ready for this election to be done, done, done. I have had it with the negative campaigns, I have had it with the constant bombardment of vote-for-me-not-them ads, and I have MORE than had it with people machines calling at all hours to tell me who to believe. (And by “all hours” I mean during dinner, while I’m typing this blog, and probably while I’m watching the Bengals.)

Hope all your interruptions are good ones.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

In case you were studying (yeah, I’m laughing too) and missed the Bengals game (or in case you were watching in Spanish of which I happen to know you speak not a word [did you know they simulcast in Spanish?]), I thought I would bring you my own special brand of Broad-casting.

Kickoff through the endzone which is a touchback. Amazingly, even though it got to the endzone differently than Pi’s did, it has the same effect and Our Boys take the field on the 20. Striped dudes quickly get a first down. Sanu catches an uncatchable throw from Dalton by extending his arm three inches beyond his reach. Timeout Cincinnati (What? Why?) which turns out to be a bad idea, because they got sacked immediately afterword.

I think commentators need to change their perspective. They keep talking about “settling for a field goal.” How silly. The correct phraseology is “have the wonderful luck of scoring with a beautiful field goal” or possibly “being rescued by the kicker who managed to get points on the board when the rest of the time couldn’t.”

TD Bengals. Woot! PAT is solid. 7:0.

Kickoff, runback, penalty, bunch of plays, we almost intercept but dude was bobbling as he went out of bounds (still a good try), fourth and inches to the goal (what to do, what to do), they go for it, pass incomplete (should have let your kicker rescue you, boys), and the Bengals take over.

Your father, and several other Sycamore dads have pointed out on more than one occasion that Sir Madden says “Get the points.” Which we interpret to mean “let Pi kick the FG rather than blowing it on a fourth down attempt.” Baltimore should pay more attention to Dads and Sir Madden.

Bengals start on the not-very-many yard line. And the first quarter comes to an end.

Bengals, Ravens, commentary, commentary. Excellent D, and the Bengals get the ball back. Well, it was about to go that way. Instead, we oopsed, got a penalty, they oopsed, got a penalty. And the Ravens pay attention and allow their kicker to rescue them. 7:3.

Allergy medicine commercial makes me want to get a new puppy. Not sure that’s what they intended.

Commentator: And a new set of downs for Andy Dalton and the Bengals.

Makes me wonder if they ever recycle downs. “And a gently used set of downs for Dalton and the Bengals.”

Killer bunch of penalties (coaches will not be happy) and we punt. Bye-bye ball. Play, play.

Whistle was blown erroneously. Commentators are having a field day with that phrase. Not sure if they don’t really know what it means or if they just like the word “erroneously.” Moses supposes his toeses are roses, but Moses supposes erroneously. Extra points if you get the reference.

Ravens try a 50 yard FG. 7:6. See what happens when you listen to Papa Madden?

A few plays later, the half ends.

I’m sure interesting things were said during halftime, but I was in the kitchen dealing with the chaos there, so I didn’t hear any of it firsthand. I suspect it had something to do with the number of penalties the Bengals enjoyed.

Ravens get the ball. No biggie, because we intercept it. Woot! And promptly turn it into a touchdown. PAT is perfect. Of course. 14:6.

Kickoff. Play. Play. We intercept. BENGALS ROCK!!!

And we promptly allow Nugent to show how wonderful he is. 17:6.

Sorry. Got distracted for a minute. Turns out the Ravens decided to play football and scored a touchdown. With the two-point conversion, the score is now 17:14.

All is fine. Our boys take the ball. Nugent kicks a FG. 20:14.

This is the commercial point in our show. As in 1 minute of football, 17 hours of commercials. Rinse and repeat. Yawn.

Ravens have the ball. Hail Mary full of incomplete. More commercials. Punt. AND WE HAVE THE BALL BACK!

But wait! There’s more! Dalton loses the football (yark!), a Raven-type person picks it up and runs to the 8 before being tackled. (Officially: sack/fumble.) Next play is a Raven TD. The next play puts the Ravens in the lead. If you’re a Raven fan, you’re pretty happy right about now. I’m not. 20:21.

Come on, Bengals, time to get some more points.

Sigh. Ravens intercept. Booker is sighing too. But we have 5 minutes left (which is about 6 hours in football time), we have plenty of time left. Ravens kick a 53 yard FG (yay for kickers in general but not for this play specifically). 20:24. Some fans are leaving the stadium. Silly people.

Two incomplete passes (talk of doom and gloom by the commentators). Then Dalton rips one about 1,000 yards to Sanu! We’re on the 18. Small pass. Run goes nowhere. They want to run because there is so much time on the clock the commentators explain. So Dalton passes to inside the 10.

Two minute warning.

Did that commercial just show a guy leaving his dog alone, overnight, unplanned!!!? I hope I misunderstood because that’s just awful. Unplanned indeed.

Bengals to the 5.

Bengals to the 1 centimeter line. Ravens call time out.

Cinci to the 1 foot line. Ravens time out. Fourth and goal.

TOUCHDOWN!! THE CROWD GOES WILD. Booker sneezes. PAT perfecto.

57 seconds on the clock. 27:24. CanNOT believe people left this game early. Even those of us that might be napping are watching with mucho interest.

In case math isn’t your strong suit, the Bengals job is now to keep the Ravens out of field goal range. (See what I mean about kickers rescuing teams?)

Kick is bobbled in the endzone and the Ravens start on the 20. Two incomplete passes. Third and 10 with 47 seconds. This is so exciting! Holy @#$%@#$%. Pass complete, in for a TD, but brought back on a penalty. (It’s ok. I don’t need the couple of years that just took off my life.)

Thirty-two seconds.

Third and 20. Somebody tackle him!!! Flacco has to throw it away.

Fourth down.

Short pass. Dude runs a little but out of bounds short of the first down.

AND THE BENGALS WIN! THE BENGALS WIN! Who Dey!!! And don’t all those people who left early feel dumb now?

Nicely done, Striped Ones, nicely done.

Love, Mom

Real Bengals fans Like DearKidLoveMom.

Dear Kid,

Since you are not a blogger, I don’t know if you’re aware of the Important Role solitaire (and Diet Coke) play in creating a blog.

As you may be aware, I forgot to get a psychology degree. Actually, I’m not sure I’d want a psychology degree (I don’t like people today and psych degrees seem to involve working with people). So I guess it’s less of having forgotten to get that particular degree as not having it. But the result is the same. I am not certified. (Certifiable, I know, but not certified.)

Degree or not, I think the reason solitaire is so important is it uses the solitaire part of the brain leaving the blogging part of the brain free to think about the next sentence of the blog.

Having tested this theory thoroughly, I can tell you it doesn’t make much difference which particular game of solitaire you play, although it’s easier (for me) to switch back and forth between solitaire and blogging when they are both electronic.

Some days, solitaire seems to inspire more than others.

Today is (duh) one of the others.

Although I’m also writing tomorrow’s blog about the Bengals. It is an absolutely accurate, unbiased, and thoroughly detailed account of the game. And by “absolutely accurate, unbiased, and thoroughly detailed” I mean “I’m reporting everything I choose to report in the manner in which I see them.” Doubt the NFL is going to offer me a job.

Love, Mom