Wrestling with Motherhood

My little baby boy is in "Little Guy" wrestling. It's awful. Practice is bad enough, but this past weekend, he had a tournament. Honestly, I'm surprised more moms don't break up the matches by chasing down the competition with their purses.

It's tough to see some smart- alec kid beat the snot out of the little guy you have worked to keep bruise-free. I don't have the heart for it.

The tournaments are frightening for me...I can only imagine what they feel like for a five or six year old. Eight matches take place simultaneously. The backboards shake from the roar of parents and coaches screaming instructions to their kids. The dads are the worst--you can tell they were wrestlers in school...or always wanted to be. Their deep voices echo and clash against each other as they fight to be heard. I swear, I SWEAR that last year I heard a woman scream "kill him!" to her kid who was wrestling. Are you kidding me? If she says that in public, I am afraid to know what she says at home.

Matt is not a fighter. I don't know if he knows that yet, but I suspect he does. He likes to win, but he doesn't really want to hurt the other kid. If they could settle the match without contact, I think he wouldn't mind. This is the same little boy that HAS to give his momma a kiss every morning before he runs off to the bus. Perhaps he's a late bloomer agressively, but I hope not.

Well, the end result was not too bad. Matt ended up with a medal, which made him truly happy. However, it did not make him happy enough to try and win another one. (Yippie! We are done with tournaments for one more year.) Good job, Matt. You're awesome.