While the Big Cat's Away...

The canaries will play.

While Hubby is picking dust particles from his teeth in Iraq, I am doing his dirty work over here...

The Sexy Guy loves his boys and loves his football, so last year he purchased season tickets to the local Championship League, Norwich City Football Club. My guys attend all home games (except on Sunday) and listen to the rest on the radio.

When we found out Hubby was deploying, one of the first things that went through their minds were that those season tickets that would sit idle.

He managed to arrange for a friend and his wife to take them-- which is asking a lot since there are the three boys and Miss Ky (of course we explained she wouldn't be going anymore).

Well, that first saturday without Dad rolled around and I had heard nothing from this couple. The Hubby kept emailing to see if the kids had been contacted. Nothing.

I texted the wife.

"Oh, there must have been a miscommunication. We didn't even know Sexy Guy had left".
"But he TALKED to you guys about it the day before he left!" Her husband had already left for the game.
My kids were dressed, sitting and waiting for a ride that wasn't coming. That saturday or any following saturdays.

Last week I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I stepped WAY out of my comfort zone: I called someone to take Miss Ky. I drove into a city I'm not comfortable driving in, during a busy traffic time, to end up somewhere I've never been. All in my hubby's British spec. car that I'm less than happy driving.

I escorted my deliriously happy boys into the football stadium and plopped down into my seat. Other than feeling like my knees were precariously close to my chin (surely I'm not the only long-legged person on this island), it was kind of exciting. I took pictures. I geared up for the great shots. My kids cheered.

Only one problem.

No one told me you're not allowed to take pictures...
so the security people did. During the game. With a personal visit. I blush easily.

At least they didn't confiscate my card.


These shots weren't my technical best, but I caught an exciting moment.
Norwich was 1-0 and the excited spectators were chanting their praises and support.

Burnley was pressuring their way down the pitch--

David Marshall (Canary Goal Keeper) stopped a spectacular shot,

but spilled it.



Only seconds after the first photo... the crowd shouted in surprised disappointment.

The game ended in a draw. That's a bad thing when you're close to being relegated.

I get it now. This father-son bonding thing.

I get how four people could stare straight ahead and make grunting noises rather than communicate verbally with one another and feel closer for having done so.

The Hubby has asked me if I want him to add another ticket to next year's pass.

I don't think so.

I'm going to drop back into the role of the one who catches their rush of adjectives as they spill into the house, tummies hungry and eyes shining.
That's my comfort zone.



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