* My 8 year old recently asked who Michael Jordan is and after I recovered from both my shock and deep guilt that I have failed my Chicagoan roots, I played some videos of Air Mike’s best plays that are available on Youtube. Jordan and the 90’s Bulls were a HUGE part of my childhood. I played basketball, ok I was on a team and that bench got awful comfy after awhile, I went to games, and I had a #23 jersey. Jordan was my hero. Looking back at some highlight clips really got me thinking about teamwork and parenting, so I revamped a blog post that was sitting in the draft pile….
Like most moms, I am the Michael Jordan of this family. If there was any doubt please google “Michael Jordan flu game”, but imagine him making everyone on the other team use the potty before they leave the house and wrestle a jacket on a shrieking Shaq. My partner is the great Scottie Pippen. He won’t be happy with this but dude, go with it. Pippen has 6 NBA Championship Rings.
I have heard some husbands complain that as soon as they walk in the door they feel like their spouse goes off duty. For years, I have been conscientious of this feeling and trying to avoid the running hand off, but hey bud, sorry that ship is sailing. I just cannot anymore. Why? Because when you walked in the door I was 30 seconds away from LOSING MY SHIT. So yes, I am handing the baton from hell to you and running for my secret stash of chocolate that I need to eat in a child-free room. I NEED 5 minutes of quiet; of not being The Parent. 5 minutes of not having to wonder if the scream I heard was an ‘impaled by a pencil’ scream or ‘playing hide and seek’ scream. I need a moment. To pee- ya know I haven’t done that all day despite the gallon of room temperature coffee I chugged. Maybe to actually take a crap without someone on my lap or asking me how to spell abbreviate- why the heck is that such a long word anyway??
Even Michael Jordan needed to sit on the bench with a towel over his head every now and then. When he sat down he knew the team was in good hands with Pippen.
Yes, sometimes we are members of the Justice League and we tackle these havoc-wreaking tiny super villains together, but other times we are the Bulls. Jordan tags out and Pippen tags in. I am pretty sure they played different positions, but go with me here. Maybe a better image is passing the ball. He needed someone to pass the ball to. I need to pass the ball to you. Jordan couldn’t be amazing without having someone there to pass the ball to. I cannot be my best Michael Jordan without you. Help me be my best Jordan. Take the ball, the baton, the screaming toddler, whatever I hand you so I can go and eat my secret chocolate and pee in peace. My jersey is still on. I am still in the game. You aren’t on your own here. I just need a moment.
Yes, your job was hard and you are tired. I get that. I appreciate how hard you work for us. EVERY DAMN DAY. But I was driving to the hoop in two man coverage ALL DAY.
Soooo pee before you leave. Blast a little Eye of the Tiger or Single Ladies on your way home because I need you in here- jersey on and laced up.
Somewhat unrelated- I have it on good authority that Netflix’s Last Dance, which looks at the Bulls’ 1996-1997 season is excellent.