Samsmom: Life, Joy, Loss and Loving your Mitochondria

I love this time of year. The days are cooler, the leaves are beginning to blush, and my calendar notes practices and games. The Phews are playing football.

Who would have guessed I’d become so invested in football? Certainly not me. The crack of helmets, the gasps when the wind gets knocked out, the unstated fact that kiddos get hurt, it still makes me cringe.

Football.

And yet, I love it. Because somewhere between the drills and the whistles, something remarkable happens: a community gathers. No one’s on their phone, no one’s scrolling through social media. Parents and kids line the fields, coaches shout encouragement, and teammates cheer one another on. For a couple of hours, everyone is fully present.

Middle Phew plays flag football. MP is agile, fast, and strong, but still unsure if he’s ready for the contact of tackle. I get it, Middle Phew. For a while, his practices were on Friday nights, and I’d stick around to watch. Flag is lighter, more joyful, a little less pressure. The coaches will run a play against the entire team, tucking the flag into a hat or a shoe. Want to see joy? Watch a forty-year-old man with a flag in his hat giggling as a swarm of twelve-year-olds tries to catch him. It’s impossible not to smile.

After practice, Middle Phew climbs into the car, cheeks flushed, hair damp with effort and slightly stinky. I hand him a sandwich from Snarf’s. Snarf’s hands down, makes the best sub sandwich around and we head to watch one of his brothers play under the lights. The drive is filled with talk of plays, teammates, life, music, school and snacks.

By the time we reach Long Lake Stadium, the lot is packed. The air is cool, the field is buzzing, and the mountains hold the last traces of sunset. I juggle camp chairs, blankets, snacks, and drinks as we weave through the crowd to find the rest of our family.

Then, for a moment, I pause. I take a deep breath. The lights reflect off the helmets, the cheers rise, and I’m surrounded by this small, beautiful chaos we call family life.

In a few years, it will look different. The Phews will be driving themselves. Their friends will take up more of their time. Maybe they won’t need sandwiches or sideline cheering. The hectic will fade.

Maybe I cherish it more because we didn’t always have this. Or maybe I cherish it because I know how quickly it changes.

Either way, I cherish it.