For my love of sports I can blame my parents. Both of them are die-hard baseball, football and basketball fans and without the blessing of any other children, all their fandom got concentrated within me.

This afternoon a team that my family loves and I hold a vested interest in played in its first-round NCAA tournament. My dad was at work so my mom watched it at home with cell phone in hand. For much of the season, we’ve watched games together in this very capacity … she in Memphis, I in Knoxville, with a string of text messages covering the 400 miles in between.

Today got a little hairy thanks to a nailbiter of a game.

Modern Mom: “Are you getting any work done?”
Modern Gal: “I contend this IS work.”
MM: “Keep telling yourself that.”
MG: “Free throws? What a concept!”
MM: “Really!”
MG: “It’s the team we know and love. Or at least know.”
MM: “I need to quit yelling at the TV.”
MG: “It’s OK. No one’s listening.”
MM: “What the sh__” (yes, she abbreviated that because the MM is a lady)
MG: “Well that blew.”
MM: “Yep.”