Wrestling Saved Him...

Long before my kids were born, I worked part time at a facility for kids, ages 6-11.  It was, for lack of better terms, the last stop for them. The histories of these kids were horrific, The physical and psychological abuse they sustained was unimaginable. The good news was that this center had a 90% rehabilitation rate, their success was the combination of caring invested professionals and their ability to get the kids care before the critical ages when the damage becomes completely irreversible.

Just part time, I aided the kids in basic day to day activities, provided a watchful eye, and hung out with them. Along with the federal CORI checks and such, I was also trained in CPR and restraints.  Thankfully I never had to use any of it, but I felt confident I could if I had to, to keep myself, the child, and the other children safe.

Fast forward 8 years or so and I found myself using that training on a nearly daily basis.  Youngest's anxiety spiked so often and uncontrollably that I often had to restrain him and I was thankful that I knew how to properly hold him until the situation would diffuse. Over the years we tried many, many ways of snuffing his fuse.

Quiet spaces.
Hoodies.
Talking.
Medications.
Safe destructible rooms.
Reading.
Behavioral therapy.
Rewards.
Consequences.
Karate.
Multiple Therapists.
Scouts.
Psychological testing.
Running.


The list is endless really.  As the years when on we figured out what worked, and what didn't. Most importantly, he figured out what worked, and the switch that was the uncontrollable aggression, was able to be switched off. He was making progress, slow and steady progress.

It wasn't long into his freshman year when he came home and announced he was joining the wrestling team. Seriously, of all the sports on the planet, he picked the one sport my husband knew virtually nothing about. He would be one of 80 kids on the team, with only 14 spots available for regular wrestling, and honestly I figured it wouldn't last. He'd go for the work out, but likely never wrestle. And I'd not have to worry that the switch we worked so hard to keep off would flip back on.

I. Was. Wrong.

Turns out, the coach saw potential in him.  He put him on the back up starter line.  He wrestled JV.  And when he took the mat the first time, literally blind from the head gear getting pulled over his face, my stomach sank as I sat and waited. I waited for the anger, the blind rage, the blood and bones to fly. Instead, he flipped and pinned his opponent, literally blindfolded. Then, he got up, shook his hand, and he walked off the mat.

I was so proud of him then.  I was even prouder when the season pressed on when he didn't win, and still, no tinge of anger.  He continued to train in the off season. It wasn't always easy but it kept him focused and gave him a goal to work towards.

As the years have gone on I have watched him grow as a wrestler and as a person. During Sophomore year I was watching him goof around with some of his friends after school.  Aggressively joking as bratty boys do, one of them decided to get physical and throw a punch to his lower regions.  As if on instinct, he grabbed his fist before it made contact, twisted his arm and took him to the floor without hitting his head.  He neutralized the situation and turned the tables on his friend without anyone getting hurt or embarrassed.  It was a work of art actually.

Junior year he began focusing on the nutritional part of making weight.  He got very interested in how the muscles worked in conjunction with food, and suddenly he knew what he wanted to do with his life.  Senior year has been spent heavy into the academic sciences, and he's applied to his top 2 colleges for PT with a minor in nutrition, one of which he's already been accepted to.  He told me then that "Wrestling saved him".  Upon pressing further he felt it was wrestling that gave him the confidence to believe in himself, to push himself, and to be himself, regardless of the end result. Win or lose, he had only himself to hold accountable.

The end of Junior year was difficult.  He had been working through multiple injuries, milking them along to make it to the end of season and because he kept qualifying, his season seemed to drag out forever. He pushed through and finished 2nd place in the regional division, and 6th place in the State Division. Shortly after season ended he went through a very messy break up with his first real girlfriend. There were many ups and downs, poor choices, and heightened anxiety. He continued to train, but the call of teenage social demands dragged him in and he got way off course.  Injuries became worse and he had to stop training for 6 weeks right before season ended to rehab. As season approached, anxiety ran high, and  for the first time I started to see traces of that little boy I used to basket hold on the floor.

Today marks roughly the fourth week into his Senior season.  He's a starter.  A captain. And most important, is back on track. The first tournament of the year he placed 2nd in the 152.  While his record isn't perfect, he's wrestling strong.  Today he finished 7th at two day tournament that last year he washed out in the first two matches.

Seventh out of 32 teams.  Each match was challenging in it's own right. He was focused, strong, and confident.  His current girlfriend only attends after his matches or quietly in the back so as not to distract him.  Win or lose, he is often found after a match sitting with his opponent, having a snack, discussing the match and techniques. He leads by example with his nutrition, training, and sportsmanship.  He offers no sympathy to those who don't want to work, and props to those willing to work hard and try even when they are defeated.

After four years I can tell you wrestling is the most disgusting sport there is.  It's full contact, sweaty, and physical. He has dislocated fingers, popped shoulders, an elbow and ankles. He has possibly broken his nose. We are pretty sure he's been concussed.  There's permanent scars from mat burn. He's had ring worm so many times the oral script is on stand by at the doctor's office. We disinfect everything in the house with laundry sanitizer and stock Hibiclens year round.  Our ENT is on standby for cauliflower drainage.

And yet, it saved him.

Wrestling gives him the confidence to stand alone, at the center of everyone's attention, IN. HIS. UNDERWEAR, and have his every move dissected and analyzed until the 6 minutes are up.

Every time he takes the mat it makes me believe that if he can do that, he will be able to do anything.

It saved him.

And the confidence and lessons it has given him, will undoubtedly save him for life.

Boys Matter Too...

The relationship between a mother and her sons are different than a mother and her daughters.

They just are.

Just like each relationship with each son or daughter is different.

I have all sons.  Each relationship is different, special, and complicated in it's own way.

I'm a crafty person. I am also a dork. At times, I am the queen of dorky and it overlaps with my creative craftiness, which sometimes overflows into my Mom-ish-ness. The end result is usually a crafty gift of uniqueness that the boys either embrace fully, or accept and then promptly put it in the back of a closet where it will never be seen again.

It's no secret that Oldest's being away at college has left it's mark.  When he was returning to school from Thanksgiving break he said "You know it's weird. When I left school on Wednesday I was sad to go home.  And now that I'm headed back, I'm sad to leave home." Which, of course, is the perfect balance, right?  He's doing well at school, and has made a home there for himself.  But he still likes coming back to his big bed and handknitted blanket I made him during one of my hospital stays. The only thing he likes better than asking me if we have a dinner plan, is when I make him angel hair pasta, lightly buttered, and he can eat it in front of the TV.

Over the months I have sent him a few packages.  Some have held necessities like his ADHD meds and his SS card so he could square away his work study job, and other times it's just for fun. I've sent random snacks and dollar store toys. For Halloween I sent crime scene tape along with a plastic pumpkin full of his favorite candy. For his birthday I sent him an Office themed birthday party in a box. Every time I've visited I'm amazed that none of the other parents seem to send anything to their sons. Regardless, I have continued to send him things so he knows we are thinking of him. So, for the holidays, while it seems fun to set up a Christmas tree in the dorm, the reality is that there isn't a ton of space and he has NINE other roommates which makes it less than practical for the 12 whole days he's there before he'd be coming back home.  So I made him an advent calendar instead from the grapevine out back.  A 20 inch wreath with ribbons and ornaments, and a chalkboard hand written sign that states "I'll Be Home For Christmas".

Is it dorky?  Yes.  My husband looked at me as he was packing the truck to bring him back and said "He's not taking that. It's ridiculous."  Oldest looked right at him and said "But she made it for me."

And so it went back to the dorm with him.

I have no idea if it was hung up.

I do know that everyday I have gotten a text of what was in each ornament.

Day one he got excited about the Target gift card he discovered.  Then he sent me a picture of ornament #2 where he could barely make out the Kit Kat logo behind the tissue paper.

I told him not to cheat.

Day 3... a shareable size M&Ms.

Today he told me he had played with Day 5's yo-yo for over 30 minutes already.  I told him it was good for stress relief.  He laughed.

My relationship with him is different than that of his brother.  Youngest will not embrace my dorkiness as readily as Oldest.  He's more of the shove it in back of the closet kid.

But I know, deep down, when he goes off in September, he'll be waiting for his packages in the mail too. And secretly loving the surprise behind each door as he counts down when he'll be home for Christmas.

Because deep down, even the manly, macho, too cool for feelings, boys need to know that they are missed. No matter how much they brush it off, and say they don't care, they need to feel like they matter.

Seven days and counting...