Jicama

Today is 32 weeks. Big milestone, baby-survival-wise. I'm thrilled about that. But I'm also frustrated by a completely unrelated topic, which just has to be talked about today. (I also have a doctor's appointment later today, but reporting on that, and how S has brought on an amazing new level of panic, and how we started our birthing classes this weekend, will all have to wait for a later post.)

Some of you may recall that back in March (19 weeks ago exactly), I wrote about how Brett Favre ruined my birthday. I wrote about how I grew up in Wisconsin, and Brett has been the only quarterback I've ever really "known." I wrote about how, when he announced his retirement earlier that day, I shed the first tears of my pregnancy when I contemplated that my unborn child would never get to see Brett Favre play football. On that day in March, I was thrilled to be entering my second trimester, moving past the big pregnancy danger threshold, but I couldn't shake the sadness over something as silly as football. Blame the hormones.

Well, here I am in my third trimester, beginning of month 8, less than 2 months of pregnancy to go, hormones raging once again, and Brett Favre is messing with me. He might not want to retire after all, and the Packers might not want him back. Basically, he's saying that he wants to keep playing, but he hasn't actually committed to it. And the Packers say they'll accept him back on the team, but they won't actually commit to letting him play. Favre and the Packers are basically facing off in a giant game of chicken, waiting for the other one to cave and say "I love you" first. They're both so scared of being snubbed (stupid egos!) that neither wants to admit how much the other means to them. As a fan, it's frustrating as hell. At this point, I don't even know what I want to have happen. Possible options:

1. Favre stays retired.
2. Favre is welcomed back to play for the Packers.
3. Favre is traded to another team, possibly the odious rival Minnesota Vikings.

I've made my peace with Favre being retired, but I'd also love to see him playing in the green and gold for another season. But when I cried over baby Barack never getting to see Favre play football, I clearly should have been more precise: I certainly don't want Barack to have to see the horror of Favre taking the field as a Viking. I shudder at the thought.

But I do know this: as much as I love Brett Favre, I'm a Packers fan first and foremost. I'll be cheering them on this season no matter who their starting quarterback is, starting by buying this authentic infant-sized cheesehead for baby Barack. In the meantime, I have a plea for both Favre and the Packers organization: please, stop messing with the overly emotional pregnant lady. Make a decision already. Because seriously, I can't stop crying as it is, and the fact that I'm crying this much over football is starting to get downright embarrassing.