A Wrestling Meet

It had been a pretty rough couple of weeks in our house.

Jericho's coach needed another guy in the 120's weight class, and so Jericho had to drop a few pounds to make weight.

For a lean and wiry guy like him, this was no easy task.

It involved switching to a low-sugar, low-carb, high protein diet for a few days, and running a couple of miles each morning and night on the treadmill.

Because he usually takes a pretty good size lunch to carry him through from breakfast to the end of his after school sports practices, eliminating the carbs was like torture to him.

And because I was the one packing those lunches, I was the bad guy.

It's hard to hear your kid say, "I'm starving, mom...my stomach growls all day long...I need more!" The accompanying pleading look of desperation almost did me in.

But the goal was in sight, and we knew it was important for his own personal discipline and training that he see this thing through to the bitter end.

We gave him plenty of fruits and veggies between meals to help fill the void.

And discovered that spaghetti squash makes a pretty good substitute for a pesto dish when you can't have all the carbs in the usual whole wheat pasta version.

The night before the big meet, about 8 pm, when Jericho was once again ravenous and foraging in the fruit bowl having already burned off his dinner from two hours before, I heard him rhapsodizing, "...and when the meet is over tomorrow...I'm gonna have a big ol' spoonful of peanut butter! And two hardboiled eggs! And milk! And...and...bread....I miss bread!"

Poor kid didn't even remember all the candy he got trick-or-treating, lol.

Nevertheless, after all the coaxing coaching him along to meeting this goal, by the morning of the big weigh-in we were all on pins and needles.

After weighing himself that morning, Jericho came walking into the kitchen, arms upraised in victory and yelled excitedly, "I get to have raisin bran!"

I never thought in a million years that I would ever hear my teenager utter such words...ever, lol.

Ha ha, nothing like a strict dietary restrictions to really help him get his priorities in order.

Apparently those raisins were like ambrosia after two weeks of nothing but 'health' foods and very little sweet stuff.

Anyway, despite the 85 degree temps in November (seriously...when is fall going to arrive in our desert, anyway?), the day was gorgeous.

Here was a beautiful crimson tree on his school campus which really popped against the blue, blue sky.

Love. The. Fall.



Frumpmama that I am, my crochet bag comes along to all meets. Having something to do to pass the time helps to keep my mind off the discomfort of those hard wooden bleachers.

And the little girls nearby who, along with Judah, love to play with the hilarity inducing Flarp for the entire two hours.

But when it's Jericho's turn to wrestle...I feel this unusual transformation come over me.

Truly, a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde kind of transformation.

I go from the cool-calm-collected-crocheting wrestling mom to the drop-everything-and-cheer-like-a-crazy person version of myself.

"GO GET 'EM, JERICHO!"

"THAT'S MY BOY!"

"WooHOOOOOOO!"



Those few minutes your kid is on the mat feel like an eternity.

I bob and dodge and strain to the left and right just as keenly as though I were the one on the mat, praying all the while that the other guy (in red) not hurt my baby.



Jeff, too.

That's him in the upper left corner in the blue shirt.



He's assistant coach and has to keep the book during each meet, and does a great job of it.

But when his kid gets out there...he, too, feels that transformation come over him.

He's like a crouching tiger...and it's all he can do to restrain himself as coach, to hold back and let the head coach do the yelling and to not show too much extra enthusiasm or partiality when he has an entire team of boys to encourage along.

But we needn't have worried.

This was about two swift movements before Jericho pinned his guy. "WooHOOOOO!"



Wow...that's exhausting!