that, by definition, is a preference

Here is another 'wonder what it would be like to be Coach?' scenario:

#3.  On election morning, I was trying to map out where everyone was going to be and when.

In order to make my point, I need to illustrate Coach's schedule.  Coach works late two nights a week.  He is technically not working on Tuesday evenings, but for the last SEVERAL months, he has been teaching an online physical therapy class from 6 - 9 pm.  He does this in our bedroom from his laptop while hidden away from the family chaos.

OK, I was going to make a joke about him maybe conducting a different kind of class because after I typed that last sentence, it sounds very secretive given his location and the need for space from the fam, but this isn't that kind of blog.  And Coach isn't that kind of Coach.  Trust me.

Translation about his schedule:  he cannot drive anyone anywhere on those nights.  He does gets paid.  He just got the check for this course that FINALLY, MERCIFULLY ended week before last.  I told him, NOT WORTH IT.

⌻ Check this box to vote no more Tuesday night classes for Coach.  

(couldn't resist - election day and all.  I would totally be carefully filling in the box on this one).

So election day was a Tuesday, and Coach would be a participant in family activities this particular Tuesday (and hopefully every Tuesday following).   Before they walked to school I thought to ask Reggie and Curly if they had a preference as to who came to which game.  Mommy or Daddy.  When Reggie plays at home, Curly plays away and vice versa because they both play for the 7th grade junior high teams - boy team/girl team.

They both shook their heads.  No.  They didn't care.  Slight pause.

'Well, I mean.  I would rather have Daddy come to my game,' Reg admitted.

Defense by Ed.  Lookie there, I know 
what defense is.  Hey, I am no slouch when
 it comes to following their sports.  
I am just not 'Dad'.  

I truly was not offended.  I just had to chuckle, because Reg had just said 'no preference'.  I pointed out to him that this was in fact a preference.

Eddie and I get along great.  He is very aware of tensions that might crop up in my day.  He can joke with me, and assure me that things are going to work out.  He is a good listener and offers to help me out whenever possible (while he is taking 7 AP classes and filling out college applications, not so much in the helping out department - but there are other, less crazy times when he is good enough to pitch in and drive someone or do some other chore).

I don't miss his basketball games or water polo games unless I absolutely have to.  I ask him about practice.  I enjoy hosting the team for pasta dinners and I love to learn about the team dynamics and personalities.  I cheer whole-heartily.  BUT, when it comes time to talk about a game or a stat or a play or an encouraging comment from a coach, Ed singles out his father and shares the details with him fairly exclusively.

All good.  I am fine with it.  Guy talk.  It makes me wonder though, once again
. . . what would it be like to be Coach.

I mean, I am lucky because all the kids come to their mother when they are about to vomit - especially in the middle of the night.  So, I got that going for me!