The craziness surrounding Super Bowl Sunday is infamous for being annual and unavoidable. Each year, one family out of every group of friends, hosts a party to watch the Super Bowl. My family happens to be that family. My parents especially take pride in the snacks they provide, and the spacious basement that comes in handy when the dads begin to pace back and forth because of their anxiety from the game. 

In addition to trying to please every single guest that walks through our door, my mom introduces everyone to her obsession with the commercials. A few years ago, she made hand-held signs to distribute to friends in order to rate the commercials. One side said “Pass the chips” which implies a bad commercial and the other side said “Replay Please!”. I’m convinced that the corniness is mandatory when it comes to anything that has to do with the commercials on Super Bowl Sunday. My mom and her friends got a kick out of these and actually used them much more than I thought. 

At this point in the game, all the dads are fed up with the amount of talking the moms are doing. All they want to do is enjoy the game, but their wives will not stop bragging about the 3 pointer their son hit in his basketball game earlier in the day. The men at the party slowly make their way upstairs where it is much quieter, and unsurprisingly, the moms never even notice that they left. As one can imagine, it is far more enjoyable to watch a game when you can actually hear what is going on. 

The halftime show is known for being the climax of the party. At my house, my parents like to pretend that everyone in the basement is actually in the stadium experiencing the real halftime show. This entails shutting every light off and turning on the flashlights on their phones when appropriate. The kids love it. All the high schoolers and elementary kids dance and sing, while the middle schoolers sit on the couch snapchatting each other about how embarrassed they are. 

After the third quarter begins, the kids start to get cranky and begin their hour-long battle with their mom in order to be taken home. My sister and I normally separate into our own rooms with the friends our age until their parents finally get tired enough to head home. 

The TV is finally shut off, my mom is vacuuming every crumb of popcorn and chips that did not make it into someone’s mouth, and the commercial judging signs are packed away for the next year. My dad’s anxiety about the outcome has finally leveled off and my mom is no longer explaining the stories behind family pictures from ten years ago to anyone who will listen to her. Our basement is pulled back together and we had yet again held another successful Super Bowl party. Although this event is the cause of week-long stress in my house, it is all worth it when your mom’s friends post on their Facebook accounts about the great time that they had and your mom is the proudest hostess ever.