Admitting it is the first step

KU Football Gameday was the highlight of our weeks. We would set the alarm and wake up bright and early so we could get in enough tailgating time. As we got dressed Dan would shout, "What day is it?" To which I would respond, "Jayhawk Football Gameday!"

Our tailgating strategy evolved over the years. At the beginning, we would bring some beer (no cooler) and maybe stop by to pick up some food on the way, some donuts, maybe some Subway. There was no pre-planning. The group we tailgated with had been friends for years. We were late to join the group, but as the boys' lives changed, so did the tailgate. Tents were added, and grills, and TVs. We started bringing a small cooler at first, then it transformed into what I affectionately called the "casket" because, as its name implies the cooler was large enough to fit a body (and yes, I'm pretty sure in the midst of a tailgate we tested this theory). And, in the last couple of years as all of the boys were married, the wives took over, planning elaborate menus and creating buffets of yummy food and drinks for our tailgating extravaganzas.

I remember last year, pregnant and watching those who had babies. Dan and I laughed, thinking that wouldn't possibly be us next year. We weren't going to let Hudson change us. Nope, not us. Nothing could come between us and Jayhawk Football Gameday.

That, was a year ago. As the KU Athletic Department began to crumble last spring, Dan and I made a big decision to forgo our season tickets this year. We vowed to still go to games and even to drive up and tailgate. But, until the Colorado/KU game hadn't kept our promise.

Friends of ours were in town for the game and so it seemed like a good excuse to make the trip to Lawrence. So, on Saturday, we woke up to the usual singing of the Hud around 8:30. We cuddled in bed with him watching cartoons for about an hour and then fed him breakfast. Dan gave him a bath and I packed his bag. Dan and I both threw on some KU gear and I peered into the refrigerator to grab some beer. Nope, no beer. We'd grab something on the way Dan told me. And so, the family headed out around 10:30, 2.5 hours before game time. (A far cry from the 4+ hour lead time of days past!) We stopped to get some cash for parking at the grocery store. As we were on our way to the liquor store, Dan looked to the Scooter's beside us and said, "Coffee?" "Perfect!" I said.

And so, at 11:30, after parking and getting our cute little jayhawk out of the car, bundled up, and settled in his stroller, we finally started the walk to the hill to tailgate, armed with our coffees, baby food and sippy cup. As we got closer to our friends, I began to feel ill-prepared. We are going to be laughed off the hill. No casket cooler, no bloody mary fixings, not even a beer?! But, just as we reached Campanille I saw another of our dear friends, doing just as we were, their little guy toddling along side. Our tailgate group had transformed. No tent, no grill, no proud Jayhawk flags flying, just a small group of guys, a couple of pregnant wives, a toddler and the Hud. As I sat on the grass feeding Hudson his food and blocking him from the wind, I heard Dan impart his wisdom on another couple expecting their first child.


"You know, I didn't think anything was going to change. I said 'not me.' No, we weren't going to let having a baby change anything that we did. We walked around all proud just last year saying we'd still be here just like we always were. Well, I'll tell ya something," he continued. "It does change and I'm damn glad it has."

And so, as we packed up the Hud and trekked back up the hill (before kickoff), Dan grabbed my hand and we began imagining all of the fun days ahead with our little Jayhawk. Sure, we'll be back, and in not so many years, our tailgate will again be filled with flying flags, hot grills and yummy food, but those weren't the things Dan and I were looking forward to. We can't wait for the tailgate to be filled with our little ones throwing the ball around, teaching them how to play washers, and forgoing our usual trip to the tailgate at halftime to watch the band. And while I may miss the whimsical days of 4 hours of tailgating, breakfast burritos and bloody mary bar, I wouldn't change it for the world.


Pretty great daddy, huh?