Bedlam #blessed

The number of happy feelings I have regarding Bedlam cannot be adequately expressed in words.  Possibly ever.  But because I'm a fighter, I'm going to try.

I'm wearing orange today.  I'll probably wear orange tomorrow too.  Might just wear it for the rest of the month.  I own enough orange items that I could probably dress in orange 45 straight days without repeating an outfit.  Oh a cold snap is on the way?  No problem, I have three orange coats.  Unseasonably warm temperatures ahead?  Great.  I've got an orange tank top for just the occasion.

My four foot tall Pistol Pete who goes in the yard on game days?  He's still out there.  Might just leave him there forever.

The Sunday sports section?  I've been carrying that around with me for two days.

I'm a happy Poke.

Watching the game with a two year old proved to be a challenge.  All was well until we scored our second touchdown of the game.  A 39-yard pass that led to me yelling...loudly.  Tiny Human was stunned.  She started to whimper, then cry, then gasp for air.  Alright, alright.  Where does this kid get such a flair for the dramatic?  After we explained that mommy was excited not mad, she pulled herself together.

At one point, OU's mascot was shown on the screen.

Tiny Human: What's that?
Kathy: That's their mascot.  The horse pig.  We hate him.
*gets the side-eye glance from Husband*
Kathy: I'm sorry, it just slipped out.
Husband: It's fine.  She has to learn eventually.

The game was moving along, there were bright moments, and some bad ones.  I was coming to grips with us losing.  It would be fine.  I was mentally prepared for this.  I have been a Cowboy fan long enough, this is not a new feeling.

And then the fourth quarter happened.   We were scoring.  We were making a comeback.  We were overcoming mistakes.  We don't do these type of things.  We never storm back.  And OU doesn't lose games like this.  And they certainly don't lose AT HOME.  And for the love of everything holy, they don't lose to OSU.  As Ben Stiller says, "No one makes me bleed my own blood!"

I didn't know this feeling.  It was a mixture of a rapid heart beat and nausea.  I was stunned into silence, until I started yelling.  Sometimes they were real words, sometimes just sounds.  Tiny Human repeatedly said, "Mommy!  Stop shouting!"  "Mommy!  You aren't supposed to yell!"  My only response was, "I have to!"  Following the touchdown that brought us to within one score and being scolded once again by my toddler, I turned to Husband and said, "You are going to need to take her to another room, because she's trying to tell me how to be a fan....AND I CAN'T HANDLE THAT RIGHT NOW!" As you can see, this is the point of the night that rationality left.

And then the punt return happened.  And I yelled louder than I ever have, while jumping up and down approximately four inches from the TV.  The only time I remember yelling even close to that loudly was during OSU vs. KU basketball games.  But in those situations, I'm surrounded by other yellers.  Saturday night, it was just me.  The lone wolf....who made her child cry TWICE during the game.

As I paced around the living room repeating to no one in particular, "I can't believe this is happening," Husband comforted our traumatized kid.  It wasn't my finest parenting moment.  When she seeks out therapy to talk about mommy's sports rage, this will be the jumping off point. *shrugs*

I have enjoyed the aftermath almost as much as the game.  I haven't had to walk anywhere, I just float.  It took me 11 solid months to get over last year's Bedlam loss.  The anger and bitterness was high, friends.  So it's nice to watch that happen to the opposing fan base.

#blessed