Confessions of a Football Mom:

Life on the Sidelines with My 6-Year-Old Havelock Ram, Cody

Being a football mom is not for the faint of heart—or the quiet of voice. I’m talking full-throttle, megaphone-in-my-soul kind of cheering. And let me tell you, my 6-year-old Havelock Ram, Cody, deserves every ounce of it. From the first whistle to the final play, I am there—loud, proud, and probably embarrassing him just a little (okay, maybe a lot), but he’ll thank me when he’s tackling kids twice his size in middle school… maybe.

Life on game day—and let’s be honest, life during the entire football season—is a whirlwind. Our week is packed tighter than a playbook. Cody has three days of practice where he runs drills, learns plays, and navigates a tiny helmet that seems way too big for his little head. And then—bam!—fourth day: game day. The excitement is electric, but so is the chaos. Trying to get him suited up, feeding him the right combination of carbs and motivation, and making sure his cleats actually match is like prepping for a military operation—but with snacks stuck in helmets and the occasional lost water bottle. Somehow, amidst all the chaos, I still manage to remember the essentials: helmet? Check. Shoulder pads? Check. Tiny football player ready to face off against giants? Check.

And then there’s the cheering. Oh, the cheering. I get loud. I cheer like I’m on the field with him, waving my arms and celebrating every small victory like it’s the Super Bowl. When Cody lines up against a kid three times his size, I hold my breath and cheer even louder as he pushes through with all the determination of a little warrior who refuses to back down. Sure, he hasn’t scored a touchdown yet—but watching him dominate the line, protect his teammates, and give everything he has in every play? That’s a touchdown in my eyes every time. There’s something incredible about watching a 6-year-old stand his ground with so much heart. He may be small, but he’s mighty—and he proves it play after play.

Being a lineman isn’t glamorous. There are no flashy runs or dramatic catches that make the highlight reel. There’s a lot of scrumming, pushing, shoving, and strategy. It’s about strength, teamwork, and heart. And let me tell you, Cody has all three in spades. Every time he blocks someone twice—or sometimes three times—his size, I feel a mix of awe, pride, and a little nervousness. How is this tiny human so fearless? And yet, there he is, giving it his all, showing me what courage looks like in a six-year-old’s body.

But here’s the real truth: being Cody’s football mom is about so much more than practices, games, or my vocal cords being tested on a weekly basis. It’s about the way his eyes light up when he executes a perfect block. It’s about the pure, unfiltered joy in his face when he tells me about a play he learned or a funny moment from practice. It’s about watching him learn teamwork, perseverance, and courage in a world where the biggest opponent sometimes isn’t the other team—it’s fear, frustration, or self-doubt.

Being a football mom also means early mornings, snacks galore, laundry that seems endless, and constant reminders to “keep your helmet on, Cody, please.” It means showing up every single time, no matter how tired you are, ready to cheer, hug, and celebrate the victories—big or small. It means sweating in the sun, bundling up in cold weather, and sometimes losing your voice from shouting with pure pride. And yes, it means sometimes embarrassing your child just a little—but in the end, it’s worth every shout, every jump, every celebratory dance that only a proud football mom can pull off.

What I love most about this experience is the little moments you can’t plan for—the ones that stick with you forever. These moments remind me that football isn’t just about winning or losing—it’s about growth, courage, friendship, and building confidence one play at a time.

There’s something magical about being a part of Cody’s journey. These games, these practices, these early mornings—they are tiny threads in the tapestry of his childhood, and I get the honor of watching it all unfold. I see him learning, growing, and discovering who he is, and I realize that football is really just a backdrop to something far bigger: the moments we share, the laughter, the pride, and the love that grows stronger every time he steps onto the field.

So yes, if you see me yelling, waving my arms like I’m conducting an orchestra, or jumping up and down like a maniac—I’m not crazy. I’m a proud football mom cheering for my little Havelock Ram, my Cody, who is fearless, determined, and unstoppable—even when the opponent is twice or three times his size. And maybe, just maybe, I’m also preparing him for life—because if he can survive my cheers, he can survive anything.

Being a football mom is loud. It’s messy. It’s exhausting. But it’s also funny, heartwarming, and absolutely unforgettable. And I wouldn’t trade a single second of it.