The best sound to a Wrestling Mom

can also be the worst.  I'm talking about the sound of the referee's hand pounding the mat to indicate a pin.  Two weeks ago (prior to the sidelining of the Cubscout due to ringworm), he was the one on the top getting two pins in one tournament.  Today, he was the one on the bottom...getting pinned.

Today's tournament was double elimination.  It was at a big school to our west (we had been going east).  All the city wrestlers were there.  I knew the competition would be stiff, but the Cubscout had been doing really well.  The first indication of trouble was when we were walking up to the school where the tournament was taking place, and he started to get really quiet (that's how he rolls...quiet = nervous).  Then, he asked to go to the bathroom before weigh-in.  He wasn't nervous about weighing in (he had been moved up a weight class so there was no doubt he would make it).  About two matches before his, he looked like he was about to cry.

Then, the first match began.  That kid was GOOD!  The Cub didn't really even know what hit him, and he was pinned within 1 minute.  So, he came off the mat upset and with a new slot in the losing bracket.  The next match came around and it started to look a lot like the first.  This time, though he didn't get pinned, but the referee called the match at 15-0.  It was horrible.  But, it was one of those situations where even though I wanted to cry, I had to be strong so he wouldn't be any harder on himself than he would be already.

I am really proud of the Cub.  I have seen a lot of poor sportsmanship and that's never him.  Kids have quit after a bad tournament, but he won't.  He does it because he loves it and wants to try again.  And that's all I can ask.

I think I miss the GLE's?

Part of my job is helping the gen ed. teachers make appropriate modifications to their curriculum in order to accommodate my students.  This is the part of my job that I love.  So much of my day is spent teaching things like how to be a friend or how to listen.  When I get the chance to dig into the GLE's and help come up with a rockstar lesson, I jump at the chance (don't tell anyone, but I REALLY miss teaching content).  One of the reading teachers came to me for help with a lesson on similes.  He had a really good plan going (he used a Youtube video that had current music videos that highlights the similes).  I asked him if he'd ever heard of Crazy Like a Fox (he hadn't) so I pulled it out of one of my many, many boxes of books.  Then, I went to the best website ever for teachers who use Boardmaker (boardmakershare.com).  I found two interactive activities for the Dynavox to go with the unit.  The only thing missing was the actual delivery of the lesson (and the subsequent grading), but it was still fulfilling, nonetheless.

Why, Wednesday, Why?

Today was just one of those days.  You know the ones (if you have no idea what I mean by "those days", you can stop reading right here).  The ones where very few things go right.  Or in my case the ones that start out with things I can't discuss in an open forum and end with driving the truck like it was stolen in order to meet the bus at home after a "surprise" staff meeting (it is actually not supposed to be a surprise, but I put it in my calendar wrong and if my calendar doesn't say I need to be someplace, I probably won't be there).  So you may be thinking, "Whew sounds like a doozy...good thing it's over for Frau!"  But alas, it is not.  Because now, I'm headed to wrestling practice for two hours in the stinky high school weight room (actually, I don't mind this because my fellow wrestling moms and I sit and chit-chat, so it's kind of like my social time... without appetizers and Diet Cokes all around).

And then there were 5

So, the whole entire "Let's get some chickens" project is not going so well.  We started several months ago with nine chickens.  Nine.  The first to go was Nervous Nellie (killed by an opossum, we think).  Next were Cowgirl and Pecky.  Pecky's body was found but something carried Cowgirl off (we found a pile of feathers in the back field).  The latest victim of farm life was Doodle the Rooster.  We aren't sure what happened with him, but my DH found him lying on the ground dead as a doornail.  It becomes less sad each time (plus I've now compartmentalized the chickens as farm animals and not pets).  I do, however, feel like I am failing the chickens somehow.  Maybe that's why they refuse to lay eggs.