My baby boy plays football

football-9-27-2014-sThe  Man Cave entered a new era today. My youngest son played his first ‘at home’ high school football game.

This is a MUCH different experience than being in the stands rooting for my favorite NFL team (see my earlier post about crazy Seahawks fans) and even different from the high school games I attended as a teen.

No, this game featured MY BABY BOY, though well padded , facing potential tackles from the other team. The other team, in this case, is from across the island and full of Irish-American kids. GIANT Irish-American kids. I swear we were playing the Notre Dame farm team. Our team was notably smaller. The “center” might have been four-foot-nine. If he put “lifts” in his football cleats. “He’s little but tough,” my son insisted, “like a rabid Chihuahua.” Fitting, since he appeared to be no taller than the opposing teams’ shins. Continue reading

Awkward Man Cave sports discussion

footballMy son went to his first High School football practice, today. This was no easy task as he had to convince ME — the Man Cave Momma — to let him turn out for a sport that can be dangerous. Yes, I know all sports can be dangerous. But I’ll bet even Marshawn Lynch’s mom cringes when the fourth or fifth opposing player attaches himself to the Herculean running back’s legs in an attempt to stop him while in BEAST MODE.

Fortunately there is plenty of safety gear, from helmet to pads, and most of it is provided by the school. However my son informed us we needed to purchase . . . Let’s say “something commonly used in sports to protect the manly nether regions.” The conversation that followed went a little like this: Continue reading

How to make S’mores, Man Cave style

william-smores-8-8-2014Manly Double Decker S’more Recipe:
1. Carefully remove entire rectangle of graham cracker from wrapper. Do NOT break into a square. You will need an entire rectangle for the bottom and another one for the top for these manly S’mores.
2. Place two peanut-butter cups, side by side, on the bottom graham cracker. Yes, I KNOW. GENIOUS.
3. Cover each peanut-butter cup with a slab of chocolate candy bar. Continue reading

A birthday in the Man Cave

William's first birthday (C) Bosch MediaMy youngest son turns a year older this week. I now have two adolescent boys firmly planted in the Man Cave.

Growing teenaged boys are so like one-year-old Labradors. All feet, lanky legs and not sure what to do with it all. They run away, independently… but just “so far…” Then they come back, give you that wide-eyed hopeful look that says, “You still love me, right?” Continue reading

The Mom nose knows

noseAccording to scientists, the human nose can detect one TRILLION different odors, far more than previously thought. As the Mom of the Man Cave, this comes as no surprise. Stay with me. Odors in a Man Cave aren’t necessarily BAD. There’s the scent that shows hubby has splurged for the lovely maple-y flavored bacon; the scent of fresh clean baby boy — my FAVORITE when the little men were very little; and the scent of freshly scrubbed home.

But being the Mom of the Man Cave means I have developed not only an extra set of eyes, but extra-sensitive nostrils. I would wager that women who live in Man Caves can detect a QUADRILLION different scents.

Continue reading

No men in the Man Cave means no TV for me

TV troubles (C) Heather Bosch MediaA friend of mine once said that the entertainment system in a TRUE man cave cannot (NOT) be operated by anyone who doesn’t poses a “y” chromosome. I scoffed at this, at first. With MY extensive background as an anchor/reporter in television and radio news?! . . . I will pause for a moment while my engineering friends in broadcasting have a good laugh at the thought of broadcast “talent” — of either gender — being able to figure out how the equipment works, but let me skip forward now.

The men of the man cave recently went out of town. The little men, to visit grandparents, the big man, to conduct business. Continue reading

“Prequel to the Man Cave” or “Growing up with brothers”

Han Solo action figure 1977Having grown up with two brothers, one just 16-months older than me, the other about 16-months younger, I actually got a taste of living in a Man Cave early. There wasn’t a doll I owned that didn’t take a trip on a brother-made boat out onto a pond or hitch a ride attached to the tail of a kite that inevitably ended up strangled in a tree or diving deep into an angry rose bush.

The story of my brothers blowing up my Han Solo action figure with fire crackers is legendary. They didn’t confess to the crime until 20-years later. Continue reading

How I got my gamertag: Mama-Kazi

moo_moo_meadowsDespite living in a quite-geeky Man Cave, I am not a big video-game player. I just haven’t taken the time to learn how to play them very well — except Mario Kart’s “Moo Moo Meadows” race track. For some reason, racing around a track avoiding cows comes easily to me. Perhaps from my experience as a TV reporter in rural Yakima, Washington, but I digress.

Since the days of Mario Kart, my boys have moved onto games like Halo. Those games involve a whole different skill set. Continue reading

A reporter’s notebook on Thanksgiving dinner

  • thanksgivingI had Thanksgiving “off” this year. No minor thing for this reporter-girl. For many, many years Thanksgiving week has been the trifecta of reporter assignments:

*Wednesday, talk with busy travelers.

*Thursday, go to the mission where they’re serving up Thanksgiving breakfast.

*Friday, go talk with Black Friday shoppers. And don’t get run-over (they are a determined lot).

It’s exhausting, but in a good way. It’s a good reminder that I have a job. A good reminder that I had Thanksgiving dinner waiting for me at home, either courtesy a gracious relative or the deli department at the local grocery store. I hadn’t roasted a turkey since I was a mere newly-wed, standing in the kitchen asking my baby-sister if she knew which end of the bird I was SUPPOSE to stuff . . . Continue reading