I love wrestling. I love watching my son wrestle. I get so into it that last year Boy Teenager asked me to dial it down, for his sake. I no longer scream his name, I only occasionally yell out what move to do next, & I stay seated for the most part. I no longer jump up & down while screaming what moves to do next, drowning out his coaches. I don't like it, but I'll do anything for that kid, so I behave.
For the most part.
It's so hard to behave when it's a really good match. I want to yell. I want to jump up. Gah, it's so hard! And that's just when it's another kid.
When it's my kid out there...it's unbearable. I can feel the words climbing up my throat, I can feel my legs & butt wanting to get out of my seat, I can feel myself going crazy just sitting there. Behaving. Apparently I'm not as controlled as I believe I am because I have had other parents laugh at me, tell me it's as fun to watch me as it is to watch the match, & hubby has told me that he fears his clothing is going to be ripped right from his body from me pulling & yanking at it.
I thought I was just sitting there. Behaving.
Last night was Parents Night at Boy Teenager's tournament. Parents Night is when the parents walk to the center of the gym next to the mat, while being introduced with their wrestler. Moms are handed flowers by their wrestlers & there's food after the matches.
Before the high schoolers are introduced, the Youth Wrestlers get their turn to walk out with their parents & be introduced. They don't get flowers though. That's special for Moms who are putting up with teenage boys.
I love watching all the Youth Wrestlers & their parents walk in front of everyone. I remember being one of those parents, walking with my son, thinking those high schoolers looked so old compared to my cute little guy & proud of my son that he would one day be one of those guys that looked so intimidating. Now I'm the parent of the high schooler & he doesn't look as old as I remember those other kids looking. He still looks like the little 7 year old I used to get on the floor to practice cradles with.
I was so proud to be standing next to my son when it was the high school kids' turn to walk in front of everyone, getting my flower from my son, being acknowledged for the work I've put into his wrestling career.
I'm also proud of the fact that I did nothing to embarrass him! He knows there is always a chance I could come in a housecoat with smeared lipstick on my face & rollers in my hair, so he knew better than to tick me off beforehand & cause me to do anything he'd regret. I didn't spontaneously grab him to kiss him on the cheek & gush about how proud of him I am. I didn't follow through on my threat to make him hold my hand as we walked out. Y'all should be proud of me!
After the matches, all the parents & high school wrestlers got together for cookies. After the coach thanked the parents for all the work they've put in, he told the boys to let their parents get to the cookies first. You could see the torture on those boys' faces as they struggled with their carnal instinct to devour a table of sweets & be polite to their Mamas & Papas. Especially for these boys who have been working so hard to cut weight & have been on strict diets.
I made the biggest no-no of potluck: I made a new recipe. A cookie I'd never made before. I guinea pigged at a potluck. Boy Teenager was also not happy before we left the house, that I was making something he wasn't sure would be a hit. Being the awesome son that he is, the first cookie he grabbed was mine. Considering how very unhappy he was about the lemon cookies that I'd made, not knowing if they'd be edible much less spectacular, he's a pretty great guy to do that for me.
Fortunately for me, the cookies were a huge hit. One kid even took home half a dozen. After eating at least that many. This is the same kid who wrestles my baked goods away from Boy Teenager at other tournaments. Other parents were tucking my cookies into their Tupperware to take home with them. I was then told by my family that the recipe was a keeper & I must make more.
Pride for my son & having the best cookies at the potluck...win for me!