He's a go-getter...finally.

The stench of sweat, musty heat and dirty water almost knocked me out as I walked into the room and instructed my kids to not step on the mats with their wet snow boots.

Why do I subject myself to this again?

We made our way to an empty spot on the wall, with Teensy holding her nose and whining about the stench. I pulled the special shoes out of the backpack and it took me 10 minutes with my face entirely too close to feet smelling no better than dying flesh to cram them onto him.

Why do I subject myself to this again?

An hour and a half of stifling heat, a wet smell and a bunch of boys with odd groping hands slamming their opponents into the rubber mats and I was entirely convinced that this sport was my very least favorite of all. I would much rather be sitting on the sidelines of a football game with my ass frozen to a metal bleacher. And if you know me at all, you know I don't deal well with cold.

Why do I subject myself to this again?

Oh yeah. The kid.

The kid who put much determination in his little inactive, video game playing body and made it through an exercise routine with little to no whining and buckets of sweat. An exercise routine that would wind even the most athletic of the parents carefully watching from the sidelines.

Yeah, my kid. Because he wants to do this and he wants to be good at this. It's his choice and he is doing his very best even though his little body aches and aches and aches. He doesn't complain...for the first time. He is tired and sore and he looks at me with eyes that plead, "Mom, this is torture" but he still continues on.

And I sat there with my butt glued to a hard floor, a bored little girl clinging to my arm, a loud whistle assaulting my ears at sporadic intervals and a smell that will for sure take a gallon of Clorox to get rid of.

Because of him. My little man. My Bubba.

Yep. He's a wrestler now.

And I'm a proud momma. Even if he never wins a single bout. Er, match? Yeah, I think it's called a match. Right? Hey! No one said I couldn't be a proud momma even if I know absolutely nothing about why those boys are out there trying to keep their "weinies off the mat"* or why they are wearing leotards just like Teensy does for dance only in a different color.

And really? I am just in it for the cool shirts! Bubba's even has his last name on the back. Now how neat is that!

*That is seriously what the coach told the boys when trying to teach them how to get out of a Half Nelson at practice last night. i just about died laughing! That is until I noticed the other parents staring and then I muzzled myself in an effort to not embarrass my kid.