If I ever drift off into the dreamy world of delicate women and think that because I married an Englishman my world is full of chintz, bone china and blueberry studded scones filled with jam and cream, I am jolted rather quick into reality, like a monkey in a test rocket who suddenly goes into orbit. What do I mean? Oh, there’s very little in the way of rhinestones and mascara in our home; we are a very football dominant family, with three of our four eldest kids being defensive linemen. I experience reminders of that daily, such as when one son last weekend smacked my tail like I was on his football team while we were on the front row, as church began. I never felt more apart of the team. Lol. Now, I definitely joke in broad generalizations; it could even be said that I am the Cliche Queen. But, while there are all different men out there, from bearded hipsters, live- eat- breathe footballers to men who take Facebook selfies with …