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Editor's note: As a public service to the regular readers of Kevin's column, once a year during the Patriots' bye week, his wife gets to say her peace. The lovely and talented Mrs. Rousseau somehow manages to put up with him and this is her only outlet. So please, lend her your ear once again.
It's been quite a year for us with the birth of our daughter Evelyn shortly after the New Year's Day game with the Dolphins.
Let's start with that one…
Nothing like labor during a Pats game. On the radio the whole drive to the hospital, it was "Do you mind if we listen to the game?" Then in the delivery room in the middle of contractions, it was "Do you mind if I check the score? How are you feeling, hon?" The real question I wanted to ask is "How are you feeling?"
So Evelyn was born early Monday morning and he says "Geez, this worked out great. The Jaguars playoff game isn't until Saturday night." I was surprised when it only took him until Wednesday to get up the courage to ask if he could go. Being the loving wife that I am, he went…thank you very much.
On the home front, I am pleased to report that no new bobbleheads have found their way into our house. However, just how many hats must one have?
Here's a good one for you. The football jersey collection is out of control. With each new jersey added this year, the weaker the hanger bar in the closet got. It finally gave way in the middle of the night a few months ago. I heard a load crash and without even a second thought, I knew exactly what it was.
And speaking of jerseys, the two babies and I were subjected to an annoying opening day fashion show this year. "Should I go with the Brady blue, the Brown throwback or the Bruschi all-pro jersey? I can't decide." And as if parading through the living room with what seemed like endless reams of mix-and-match jerseys, he also asks "And what hat should I go with?" Then he came home a few weeks ago with a size 3T Bruschi game jersey for our two-year old. "They're supposed to run large. He'll grow into it," he said.
I actually got invited to a real game last year. The Chargers game. Anybody remember how that one turned out? Yes, I was there and I will probably never be invited back after the 41-17 throttling.
Speaking of going to the game, I am told that the long-serving tailgating grill has died. My solution? Simple. Replace it. But not the logic of the loyal tailgaters in this crowd. They are going to bring it to the game one last time and have a proper send off for it including everyone getting up to say a few words…then use the new grill.
The dog. Well, he just asks to go out at the first sign of an upcoming game unless there's food around. The fist pumping after a successful third down conversion still scares Timber as well.
Around Christmas time, I start humming "It's beginning to look a lot like the Patriots Pro Shop-everywhere I go." One guy he works with says his cubicle looks like he had an accident with a souvenir stand.
Over the years, he has tried to pass off tickets to an August game as a generous offer to me. I have endearingly termed these "suck tickets." What does he think? That I was born yesterday? And this years "suck ticket" goes to…..(drum roll please)…Not Me. I'm onto his gig.
Over this last year, he has also gone nutso over golf. So besides Patriots crap, I'm now subjected to Ashworth, Callaway and other stuff. A prime example is when I asked him what he wanted for Christmas and he said "What I could really use is a sixty-degree wedge." I'll give him a sixty-degree wedge alright.
That's it for another year. Hope you enjoyed it.
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