I’ve been thinking lately about how happy my son looks when he’s fighting. Not the “punch you in the face” variety of fighting; he’s not like that.
No, this stems more from what I saw at a recent sleep-over playdate. His very special friend was here – a boy he’s known forever. They love to rough-house and tumble around, and they know and respect each other’s limits. No one ever gets hurt, or feels picked on, or cries “uncle” or taps out or whatever.
My son has never struck someone in anger, and while he has given one person a bloody nose, he did it under duress as he was being sat on and later told me he was afraid. And guess what? I am totally cool with that. I don’t believe in violence before peaceful attempts to reconcile, but if someone is quite literally sitting on you and you can’t breathe and they’re not respecting your boundaries or complying with your request to GET OFF ME NOW, then they deserve what they get in the way of a bloody nose.
So, back to the play-fighting. After the giggling and thumping subsided, my son and his friend had this look on their faces that sadly I’ve seen less of since they’ve started using things like iPods and laptops. My son is very physical, and very lean. He’s not at all big for his age, but he is very, very strong. (I like the word “very” very much, it would appear, but I’m in no mood for edits, thank you very much.)
After the tumbling they were both pink and flushed. My son’s eyes were positively sparkling and his hair was sweaty and curling up all along the fringe of his forehead. He was beautfiul and happy.
So this week, thanks to some advice and recommendations from my friend Kelly at Black Belt Mommy, he started Jiu jitsu. He’s only been to one class, where he spent an hour grappling and rolling and running and being told “when you practice perfection, you achieve perfection,” and “Making someone feel bad is not funny, and not ‘just a joke’ – this is not friendship material so walk away from it.”
I already love it there and I’m signing my 13-year-old daughter up this week.
For a quiet boy who never says a word about his feelings, a quiet boy who’s started and tried and didn’t love hockey and soccer and baseball, I got this response: “This – this -is the sport I like.”
Between those words and his smile, my cheeks are a little pinker too.
Here’s some other stuff to read:
I spent way too much time watching this “Little Rascals” video, but I couldn’t help myself. It reminds me of when I was small and the Rascals environment didn’t feel so different from mine in the 1970′s. I’m sad that many things in this video are virtually unrecognizable to my own children, just three generations later. I especially love Spanky, and you just know from watching him as a child that he would grow up to be an awesome Grandpa. (If you know otherwise, keep it to yourself. I’m in no mood for shattered dreams this week.)
This past week taught me a few things, as well. Like these:
I was also over at MamaPop.com begging for someone to be a hero to Lindsay Lohan, and why it is never, ever a good idea to marry your brother.
Have a great week. A VERY good week.