I came across this article today: Introducing the "Mom Cave."
A place for moms to hang out by themselves? Sure, sounds like a good idea.
Decorated in hot pink and shabby chic ruffles? Puh-lease.
Can we BE anymore stereotypical, Homegoods?
I'm reminded of a time when I went to a week-long national conference for my college church group. It was in the same city where I went to university, so it seemed like a good idea. I had fun. I met a lot of folks. It was great. And then they mentioned the plans for men's and women's groups.
I think the exact words were something like, "Men! We have the Metrodome confirmed for our event...the freakin' METRODOME!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"And....um....oh yeah...ladies we have something fun planned for you too."
That "something fun" was a do-it-yourself spa night.
A freakin' spa night. Do-it-yourself.
By this time, I was sick of it being assumed that all women at church wanted to do when we got together was have a spa night. Seriously. That's all we ever did. Spa nights.
I, myself, would've - to use the parlance of our times - freakin' loved playing a pick-up game of tag football on the Metrodome field, or, heck, even just being on the field.
But, nope. Men only.
And now, well, I give Homegoods credit for adapting the whole "Man Cave" phenomenon for women, but c'mon. Some of us girly girls still have a tomboy side.
In fact, it's my fondest ambition to be the kind of wife and mother that Jenny is on The League. And not just because I'd have an awesome brother-in-law named Taco.
No, it's more that I would relish being a pretty easy-going mother who can kick her husband's butt in Fantasy Football (that this would require me to understand and care about Fantasy Football is not the topic of today's discussion).
Ultimately, I guess what I'm trying to say is that there's more to women than pink ruffly things, especially THIS woman.
Just check my Twitter feed from this week. (Seriously? The ESPN Sports Center talking heads all picked the Bears on Monday and now they're all picking the Packers? What gives, Flip Floppers?)
With that, I leave you with the man my future brother-in-law must live up (or down) to...depending on how you view it (sorry, the Birthday Song doesn't allow embedding):