Just this week I had a memory resurface during a conversation with a male co-worker. We were talking about the differences between men/women and boys/girls. He’s one of the middle of four boys, so his childhood experiences were much different than mine. But upon talking with him, one of the things that I suddenly remembered was that when my twin brothers were little, they would wrestle ALL.THE.TIME! Seriously, it was like watching a couple tiger or bear cubs in those nature shows that wrestle to learn self-defense skills. They weren’t fighting (usually), but it was mostly good-natured wrestling. They were always touching, hitting, flicking, slapping, tugging, which almost always turned into an arm-flinging, leg sprawling, head-locking wrestling match. The only thing that makes this memory funnier is that more often than not, my father would be right in the middle of it. Watching the two of them as little boys pounce on my 6’ 1”, 200 lb father, like they actually had the upper hand, was always comical.
But I never got it.As I relayed this memory to my coworker, he just sat in my cube, laughing, hiding his eyes and mouth behind his hand, like he completely related to the scenario. As one of four boys, he said wrestling was an everyday occurrence in his household. And now, even as full grown men, in their 30’s and 40’s, they still have wrestling matches when they get together.
Seriously? As adult men with wives and children?Yep. And their mother still fusses at them that they’re going to get hurt or break her furniture, just like she did decades ago.
As a girl, this is something I just do not relate to. But then considering there is 11 years between me and my brothers, the typical sibling rivalry relationship is something I don’t relate to either, so whatever.
But now, as a mom to a boy, I see how he interacts with my sweet and gentle husband, and I just can’t believe this is anything other than how the male species is hardwired. One of the things that Monkey LOVES to do is wrestle with Daddy.
Again, I don’t get it.When they wrestle, I literally have to leave the room. It makes my teeth and my jaw hurt because of the stress. I imagine stitches and concussions and bruises that make a stranger wonder if CPS needs to be called on us. That hasn’t happened yet (knock on wood) and mostly what I hear from down the hall is my son laughing hysterically, Daddy grunting dramatically, and a lot of tickling. It sounds exactly like my brothers wrestling with our Dad years ago. Last night, De-dah came over and for one memorable night, N handed the match over to the previous reigning champion.
With his love for hoops, Monkey somehow managed to mix wrestling with “bakket-bah”.
Monkey comes from behind...
But he's not quick enough on the draw...
Even when it was obvious De-Dah was winning...
Monkey always managed to get the upper-hand...
As this continued for awhile, I remembered my brothers. And I imagined Monkey and M2 doing the exact same thing, building the same silly wonderful memories with each other and with their Dad and De-dah. If his in-utero movements are any indication, Monkey might be given a run for his money!
I have no doubt I have some serious internal bruising from this guy. To the point where "M2" is often replaced with "Bruiser".As for Momma, I am perfectly content to be a spectator on the sidelines. Or down the hall where I don't actually have to watch it.
