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Editorial note: As a public service and a now eight-year tradition 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.
To all my loyal fans, please accept my sincere apologies for my now apparantly much-anticipated column being late this year.
This year has been a different kind of year. For those of you who have been following Mr. R's columns on Patsfans.com, you have probably gotten a sense of change, perhaps a sense of growth and dare I say "maturity" that has developed in our beloved sportswriter.
This year has no doubt been busy, beginning almost back to May when rumors of a deployment began. The squealing really began with the possibility of a deployment going into the fall. "But I don't want to miss Jake's first day of kindergarten and Evie's start of her second year of preschool and the dog is due for his parainfluenza vaccine and..." Thinking to myself as I'm watching sweat roll off his forehead late in May "yeah that also just so happens to be football season AND I know how you think."
The eventual deployment was tough for all involved. Thank you to all who served, who have served and to all the families who support those who served and have served. In my case, I held my own. Working, taking care of kids, keeping up with the house and yard, getting to play with the weedwhacker and lawnmower. Then there was the the cars and dryer that all broke down among many other little inconveniences like torn cartilege in my wrist that will likely need surgical repair. The grand prizes were a New Orleans Hornets bobblehead now proudly displayed on the bureau to remember the good times.
After two months in New Orleans, all of a sudden he's got a Drew Brees jersey and he's going around telling people that it is "okay to have a NFC team." To me, this is like having another women on the other side of tracks.
Speaking of football jerseys, he finally made the purchase last season of the long-coveted white AFL Tom Brady throwback jersey that showed up at the Patriots Pro Shop. He and our daughter meandered over there from my in-laws house one afternoon and at the last second, predictably he nearly changed his mind and went with the red version. Our four year-old daughter finally rationally settled the matter by talking some sense into him by saying "But Dad, the white one is the one you've always dreamed of." Case closed.
Speaking of the kids, Kevin shrieked like a school girl with excitement when we found out that the kids were now eligible to join 4H in our town. The excitement was really because the club meetings are held every other Sunday afternoon between 1:30-3:30.
It was an indeed a sweet, touching moment when the kids got to go to their first Patriots game wih their dad and Bumpa against the Saints in August nonetheless. Even our four year-old understands the meaning of the preseason "suck" ticket and wonders when she is going to get to go to a "real game" (her words).
"Santa" has to now look for obscure Christmas gifts like a Jacksonville Jaguars tree ornament or a Green Bay Acme Packers throwback knit hat thanks to our son's poring over the NFL Shop catalog with Dad. There is some sweet irony in our son wanting Miami Dolphins bedding with complete wall decor just because he likes real-life Dolphins.
Oh yes, Miami, Miami, Miami. The boys roadtrip this year--sunny, warm, relaxing, four days away. Did I mention the relaxing road trip to see the Pats was in Miami? Meanwhile, back at the ranch--"Hey Jake, how about a Miami Dolphins bedding set complete with wall decor or a Brett Favre lifesize poster or jersey?"
Our daughter is taking after her Daddy with her addiction to small cards in shiny packages. "Did someone say Target?" a voice interrupts from down the stairs. Bounding up the stairs, he says "Going to Target? Honey, you know what that means...." Under the innocent packages of Toy Story 3 sticker cards in the carriage, I always find Topps football cards furtively slid underneath. Like a fiend, he runs to the car, rips open the bag and starts glaring at each card in a wild freenzy hoping to find God only knows which card.
I recently worked a Sunday shift and the only request was to make sure the kids had a bath. I made the mistake of calling at halftime of what turned out to be the loss to the Jets because somehow I thought it would be a good idea to torture the man I love during the middle of a busy day. Answering the phone panicked and out of breath, I cautiously asked what was going on. "Giving the kids a bath. Halftime. Everybody's fine. Got to go. Game's about to start again. Talk to you later. Love you" Click.
Big sigh. Well, at least the kids will be clean.
Jersey Shore!!?? Really....Anybody, Anybody?
Our dog Timber nearly lost his life in what I will call the Randy Moss Trading Incident. It goes something like this....As Kevin caught the news flash going across the TV in microprint, "What?! What was that about Randy Moss?" Looking up and around, I realized he was actually asking me the question. I gave a glancing look and replied "How the hell should I know!" Running to grab his iPod (that I bought him for Christmas last year, thank you very much), he nearly ran the dog over and then again on his way back to the couch a near miss. The poor dog got up, moved, laid down in a safe place and then let out a big sigh of relief. Needless to say, the rest of the night was spent texting his friends and scanning news reports.
And just how many times do I have to be subjected to video clips of Brett Favre getting hit in the balls with a football?
In closing, thank you all once again for your continued support. Have a great safe, fun year!
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