Home Is Where the Field Is

Football hadn't exactly been kind to me lately. Just two short months after marrying my Coach in December 2015 {and six short months after moving to the Yankee state of Ohio}, I was back to living the single girl life in Cbus... only this time, my fur baby Jolene was my bed buddy and my new husband was a state away coaching in Michigan. When the opportunity arose a year later to pursue a full-time position at a {gasp!} D1 school in my home state of Kentucky, it sounded like a no brainer. Until we visited "The Head".

While I wanted to experience living with my Coach, I didn't necessarily want to give up all the things about Columbus that had become near and dear to my heart. Sure, there were the frivolous things {like Zest Juice and Dewey's Pizza, Target and multiple-movie-playing cineplexes} - but there were more serious aspects to a move too. I'd miss my Pure Barre pals, my co-workers and my amazing progressive Catholic church, my boxing club, my unbelievably motivating trainer, and most of all - everything that had to do with the fur babies {now up to two, if you're keeping track}. I would be walking away from a life that I had {albeit hesitantly} taken up two years ago... when I first left the South for {you guessed it} football and love.

And yet, there was really no choice. Football chose for us. With appropriate fanfare, I did a farewell tour of Columbus {see #CBUSfarewelltour, I think?!} and packed up another classroom {4th one if you're counting} and moved to the base of the mountains. In case you were wondering, there are no "farm to table" restaurants, no hot yoga studios, no boxing clubs, and no juice bars with flavored cashew milk. There is no Target and {to everyone's amazement who knows me} there is no Pure Barre. There is a very well-run recreational center on campus. And a Buffalo Wild Wings. I told myself I would not only survive, but thrive.

Fast forward through the summer, and I was still trying to tread water in a pond that couldn't seem to hold me. I wasn't UNhappy, but I wasn't quite comfortable yet either. Truthfully, I don't know if it will ever be quite the right fit, but I'm learning a lot about myself {in a very non-granola, hippie kind of cliche way}. And I'm starting to find the things that I love. Believe it or not, this revelation of sorts started at {where else} the football field. {Cue the cloying exclamations like "oh" and "ah"}

The best thing about Morehead is that I am making a family that I never got to finish at any of our other schools. Regardless of the weather, I hit up practice at least once a week {- would be there everyday if that didn't make me look like a slightly deranged stalker/mother figure}. More than ever before, I KNOW our boys... their birthdays, their sense of humor, their snack preferences.... I know things like:

1. Justin will also seem slightly stand-offish and aloof. That doesn't mean he doesn't like me {I hope}.

2. He also looks like Morris Chestnut. For real.

3. Braylyn will always stay after practice with Justin and whomever else wants to get better that day. {That makes me want to spend more time making myself better at what I do too}.

4. Adam will always be surrounded by random blonde sorority girls after games. I will always give him a hard time about it.

5. My Cincinnati boys will always be at Sunday morning mass. {That makes me want to be better at that too}.

6. Dom will always find a way to get hurt. His mother will always roll her eyes about it. She will also always have the best tailgate food. And let me crash her party.

7. Eric Pugh's little girl smiles just like him. I hope she gets his tenacity too.

8. Hats are not for everyone {ahem, my husband and his wannabe relationship with the visor}. Except for Melon - Melon can wear all types of hats and get away with it.

9. B. Louder will always find a way to be an important part of the team, injured or not.

10. B. Duncan is the most amazing older brother. {Just ask his little sisters.... they are tough critics}.

11. Trey and Sayyid are very quiet, but they are always thinking something. And when I least expect it - the best one liners come out in the calmest voices.

12. It's extremely fun to yell Shavi's full name over and over before and after extra point kicks and field goal attempts. {5/5 football WAGS at Morehead agree}.

13. Turk could run through a wall. Especially if he is hungry.

14. There is nothing more hilarious than watching the Special Teams kickers and punters during practice.

Between these boys and the Morehead State Football WAGS {wives and girlfriends. You'd know that if you watched E!} have made my little pond a lot deeper. For once, football seems to have done me a service. Not because we're winning, and not because an Eagle is a pretty kick-ass mascot. {And not because I look AMAZING in royal blue and gold... well, partially?!} I don't know if we will win a championship. I don't know how long football will keep us here. But I do know that the old adage is true. Home is where the field is. Even if the closest juice bar is 72 minutes away....

XO,

Pick Your Poison {Control}

Despite taking an extensive hiatus since my last post, I can assure you that things in the Berry-Perin house have not slowed in the least. Actually, we've ramped up the crazy by adding another fur baby to our family. Havoc is aptly named; since his adoption at the end of January, I've seen the wee hours of morning more than I did during my 20s... minus the sequins, stilettos, and {drink} specials.

In addition to upending my sleep schedule and destroying our carpets, Havoc has also thrust Jolene into the role of big sister. Jolene has long wanted a sibling {look forward to an upcoming blog that share insight into how Havoc became a Berry-Perin}; however, she has truly been the epitome of the eldest child. She finds fault in many of Havoc's less than stellar mannerisms and continually reminds him of her superiority by perching regally on EVERY piece of furniture we own. However, last week Jolene had her "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha" moment and shouldered her way back into the spotlight.

With John gone to the next football post, I'm serving as a single pup parent 90% of the time. After the first week of fast gulp food meals, I finally felt comfortable to cook myself a meal. Jolene had Havoc entertained and I successfully cooked up some ground turkey for spaghetti. Just as I was congratulating myself with a goat cheese garnish and a glass of white wine, I noticed Havoc giving the "look". This wild eye is one of his tells that perhaps, he may have to "go hurry". Thinking back on the number of times I'd "Nature's Miracle"'d the carpets that day, I quickly scooped him up to sprint downstairs into the frigid night air. I didn't think I had anything to worry about - Jolene was always able to handle herself in a responsible manner for a few moments unattended. While Havoc relieved himself, I savored the thought of the drama free dinner awaiting me upstairs...

Except that the drama was about to be cranked up to telenovela status. Upon re-entering the home, I became instantly suspicious. Jolene had started as the door cracked open and threw herself into her crate. There were bits of plastic littering the kitchen floor and the smell of spoiled meat wafted to meet me. My stomach immediately dropped, and I magically morphed into SVU's own Olivia Benson, sussing my way to some answers.

Earlier in the evening, I had taken the meat container from dinner and some old lunch meat and secured them in a plastic bag for removal from the apartment. This would keep the dogs from whining and the apartment from smelling like anything other than puppy breath and Febreze. I'd planned on discarding the trash when I next took Havoc out that night. However, due to our abrupt departure, I'd forgotten the trash on the {otherwise clean and empty} counter.

A quick and thorough search of the premises proved that Jolene was indeed the sole perpetrator in stealing this contraband and wolfing down the rancid meat, along with {I noted to my INTENSE chagrin} the sponge that lays beneath meat in its plastic packaging. So I did what any adult woman living alone with two children under the age of 2 would do: I called my Mom. When that didn't work, I called my husband. And when that {surprisingly?!} came up empty, I text my dog trainer. My last life line spent with no hard and fast answers, I reached the final possibility - one that, since our embarrassing visit there last summer, I was most hesitant to utilize... The Ohio State Emergency Veterinary Hospital.

My fear and hysteria bubbled over as the receptionist asked me how she could help. The vet tech fell silent upon hearing that Jojo had scarfed a combination of meat and plastic that could hold any number of bacteria and other implications. NOTHING and NO ONE were helping, and my Tiger Mother instinct finally kicked in to hyper drive.

"Then who do I call?! And what do I do?!"  

I raged like Hurricane Katrina in her first hours ashore in Louisiana. I refused to wait and see as so many had suggested. There was NO WAY that my baby was going to sit through the night with plastic and raw poultry in her stomach. She had food allergies for Pete's sake! The vet tech finally yielded something valuable and suggested calling the Animal Poison Control hotline {no, I'm not making this up - it exists}. I jumped at the suggestion, slammed down the phone, and dialed my only hope at deliverance and good health. 

As I waited for the line to connect, I started filling Jolene's water bowl with a very exact ratio of hydrogen peroxide. Thank Heaven for the National K9 Puppy Preschool presentation on Dog First Aid during Jolene's star pupil turn in the class. I remembered our fabulous trainer Erica reminding us all solemnly that hydrogen peroxide could immediately cause a dog to vomit if necessary. Jolene helpfully lapped up the mixture and I fielded questions from the APC hotline operator while covering my kitchen floor in plastic trash bags. 

While explaining for the tenth time the contents of Jolene's stomach, my fur baby started to dry heave. Within minutes I was wrist deep in rancid turkey, feverishly searching for the sponge. The exultation in my voice shocked the APC's faceless figurehead as I crowed, 

"Nevermind. It's all here. She's vomited and it's all here!"

In the aftermath, I sat in my freshly cleaned kitchen stroking Jolene as she laid next to me, lapping small amounts of water to cleanse her palate. I called everyone whom I'd initially alerted and proudly laid out my emergency parent savvy. The post-traumatic experience bliss didn't last long though. As I pat myself on the back once more, I happened to look in Havoc's crate. He'd been so quiet and angelic during this entire episode. It was only then that I realized that he was sitting in a pool of puppy pee. Wagging his tail. 

Cry "HAVOC" and let slip the dogs of war... Yes, when we picked out this pup to match his equally entertaining sis, we truly picked our poison.

XO,