Balls!

There are a lot of balls in this house. Not just because I am surrounded by testosterone at every turn, but this house is actually stuffed to the rafters with actual balls. Lovely round plastic bouncy balls.

My husband often points out that it is my own fault when I am lamenting the sports obsession that surrounds me, and that when I married him, I knew that he was obsessed with sport and that any children we had would follow suit. No! I did not! When I made my marriage vows, I did not agree to love, cherish, surround myself by football and obey.

This week I have reached breaking point. Maybe it is the heady excitement of Euro 2012 that has tipped me over the edge. But everywhere I go I am tripping over balls. We live in a three storey house and on each floor there must be a dozen or so balls; football, rugby, bouncy. When the boys aren’t at school, at least one of the boys will be kicking or throwing a bloody ball somewhere. I often stand in the kitchen making tea with the sound of a football bouncing on the floor or against the front door; every bounce grating into my head, pondering the many ways that I could destroy an inflatable football. And there are many possibilities let me tell you, but of course, I would never do such a terrible traumatising thing to my children, would I?

So when there isn’t a ball banging somewhere in the house or garden we are watching it on television. The boys love watching sport on television too. Now I can just about cope with the England matches in a current championship and have even been known to show some small signs of excitement. But I often come down to find my little darlings watching a football match from the seventies or eighties on ESPN Classics. What is that all about?

Of course, I do want them to play sports. It is fantastic that they are so active and I do encourage them to get involved in sporting clubs at school and out. I want my children to be fit and healthy and having a healthy interest in the sport is brilliant. However, for me, that means more balls and weekends spent at the side of a football or rugby match.

Euro 2012 fever is rife here as you can imagine. We have wall charts, newspaper articles and constant discussions about the games, teams and players. It could be a long couple of weeks for me. So for the near future, it is balls for me and I will just have to grin and bear it for now. In the meantime, I am going to invest in a good pair of ear plugs and maybe. I will write a book called “100 ways to destroy a football”.