Day 23

I am thankful for wresting.
Let me explain...

Wrestling is in my blood.  I often thought that if I were a boy, I would have been the championship wrestler of the family- I bet my brothers passionately disagree.  Alas, my dad's firstborn turned out to be a girl.  A girl who didn't wrestle
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But wrestling was my dad's thing.  And my Godfather's thing.  The man who is credited with introducing my mom and dad is also my Godfather/Uncle Del.  Uncle Del and my dad were wrestling buddies via their friend Bob Smith.  As the story goes, my Uncle Del had my dad over for a visit.  My dad then spotted my mother, who happened to be Uncle Del's sister.  Uncle Del claims it was love at first sight and firmly believes that neither me or my brothers would have ever happened if it hadn't been for him playing Matchmaker.  So as you can see, I owe a lot to my Uncle Del.  And if it hadn't been for wrestling, my mom and dad would have never met.  And I, well, would have never happened.  So there is that...

My dad wrestled and coached wrestling.  A couple of my brothers attempted the sport, but never made it their thing in High School.  But just because we didn't wrestle for sport, didn't mean my dad didn't get us to wrestle for fun.  I am not sure how our upstairs living room floor has not caved in yet, but it has been the "mat" for hundreds, neigh thousands, of wrestling matches.  Many of those matches instigated by my father.  Many of those matches begged for by his children.  And many of those matches broke apart by my mother who really just didn't want things to end in sad tears.  Although, many of those matches were source for belly laughs complete with tears of hilarity.  (Wresting is just a funny, funny thing to watch)  Our living room floor was also sight for rounds and rounds of the game we lovingly call "Swamp Monster".  (Which is really just wrestling with a running component added in... yes, in the living room.)

Enter my husband.  A young man thrust into the world of daddy-hood.  Never had held a baby, never really spent time with little kids, much less parented them.  He was just an airman who happened to get his girlfriend pregnant and then decided to do the hard thing:  he bravely took on the job.  Never mind that he looked and felt awkward, ill-equipped, and out of place as a father.  Or that his responsibilities as new dad were grossly compounded by his deployment, my school schedule and lack of family support.

But he was a wrestler in high school too.  

And I know fist hand that wrestlers are scrappy, determined and tough.  And just like a wrestler, my husband has bravely chosen to figure this parenthood thing out.  One baby at a time.  I am proud of him in a million little ways.  I am thankful for him.

The best part?  He is keeping up the family tradition of wrestling...

Last night I told the boys that daddy was on his way home from work.  Hayden looked at me, smiled and said, "Good, I wanna wrestle."  My husband came through the door, took off his boots... and hit the "mat."

I am thankful for wrestling.