I’m sure most wives know that it’s March Madness. You know, the time where your husband spends more precious moments on a basketball bracket than with his family or helping with anything around the house. Needless to say, we’ve been watching a lot of basketball lately and the analogy came to me that the weekends with my family can seem a lot like the last few minutes of a basketball game. There’s lots of yelling, game plans, fouls, dividing and conquering and it lasts A LONG time. Like just getting shoes on to get into the car long time. If someone tells you there’s only one minute left in a basketball game, there’s not. There’s like twenty minutes.

So, this past weekend we pile into the car to head to Costco. We have our game plan. It just so happens my brother can watch the kids for an hour, so we don’t have to bring them with us (and spend an extra $50 on unnecessary snacks). Clock is ticking, I send my husband to get the heavy items and I go to get the random items that would take him an unreasonable amount of time to find.  Our game plan was to meet back up towards the front to check out together. I gather all of my items, text my brother to make sure the children are still alive then hustle to the front where I do not see him. Just then my brother texts me back saying that our youngest fell and hit his head but “he thinks” he’s okay. So now we have an injured player. I run to the back of the store to find my husband taste testing something (he’s a foodie). He has all of the requested items in the cart, so I let it go. I then noticed the bin of strawberries I grabbed were half rotted so I send him towards the checkout and run over to swap out the strawberries- crises averted.

I finally meet my husband at the front where he’s unloaded half the cart and is chatting casually with the cashier lady and bag boy. He then says he can’t find the Costco card (which is needed to checkout). This is when my inner Tom Izzo came out in me. “What is going on?! What are you talking about? You just had it when we walked in here! And why haven’t you unloaded our cart yet?!” The cashier stares at me shaking her head. I take a deep breath and tell my husband to quickly retrace his steps and I’ll unload the rest of the cart. As he walks away the cashier (whose name tag reads Raven) tells me “You better be careful girl or I’m going to steal your boyfriend, you need to be nice to him.” I stare back at her with my exhausted ‘I’m gonna count to three face’ to see if she’s joking. She’s not. I look down to notice I’m not wearing my wedding ring and I know my husband isn’t either. We usually don’t wear our rings on the weekends when we are doing things with the kids or around the house, plus when you’ve been married for seven years who cares right?

I decide to smile at her and then explain myself. “He’s actually my husband. We have two children waiting for us, I’ve been up half the night and we’re on a time frame.” She stares me up and down and replies with “Oh, sorry he said you guys were on a date.” I laugh. I guess he was right. We were on a date. We had no children with us on a Saturday. That’s the best it’s going to get for us until bedtime when we can cuddle and binge watch something on Netflix. Just then my husband runs up with the card in his hand in the nick of time as other customers start to line up behind us. “She wasn’t being mean to you Raven, was she? She’s the coach. She’s loud but she leads us to the win,” he says. Raven laughs. “You’re so funny!” she replies. “Well, my milk just came in, time to breastfeed” I reply with a grin on face. Then we left.

So, to the Ravens of the world, yes, I’m the Tom Izzo wife. But I get the job done. And I get it done with the help of my husband, who is also my star player. We’re a team. That’s what marriage is. It is hard. And marriage with kids is even harder. You’re tired, you lack patience and let’s be honest- romance. And to those of you who think I’m being “too hard” on my husband you clearly don’t know us. He can hold his own. He is successful in his career where he has to negotiate a lot. So, when he gets home he lets me take over. And it’s our witty banter back and forth that attracted us to each other to begin with oh so long ago.

I don’t think I’m alone in that mothers are the coaches of the family. We cheer on our children and our husbands every day. We make sure appointments and practices are made. That the last-minute school project is completed, that special suit got dry cleaned and that everything is running smoothly. We may lose our sh*t from time to time but it’s because we care. In the words of Coach Izzo “Coaches are not the bad guys, they want what’s best for their players”. Mothers just want what’s best for our families at the end of the day.


Rachael Ramas is a stay at home mother to four (two children, one-man child, and a bulldog). She’s a midwestern girl living in a Boca Raton world. Rocks a humorous outlook on life while raising a threenager daughter and wild man one-year-old. She’s doesn’t take herself too seriously but does her wine.


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