The past couple of weeks have been very trying between my 16 year old son and me, to say the least.
He is a wrestler for his high school plus he wrestlers for a state club. This season he became determined he was going to drop down a weight class from last year. He wrestled at the 112lb class last year weighing around 109-112 the whole season. (He's a small guy, me and his daddy are both short) Last year was a perfect fit, right? But that was last year and naturally he has grown and couple of inches and now weighs naturally around 118 lbs.
103 lbs is the next weight class down. 118 dropping to 103 for a kid with nearly 0 body fat is a bad idea, right? Well, after several conversations (arguments), I let him alone and told him to do whatever he wanted.
Yesterday, I looked at him and realized he was a walking skeleton.
His eyes were sunken in, his cheek bones and color bones were protruding. He looked horrible. He went on to school, I was heart broken, felt like a horrible mother. My son was malnourished and I just sat back and let it happen! He called me about 10:30 from school and sounded so weak asking me to come get him. When I got there he looked even worse. I took him immediately to get food and have a talk with him. He agreed he was doing the wrong thing and was going to stop and start eating right again. I sat there with tears in my eyes watching him eat with those bony shaking fingers and dark hollow cheeks. I thought how could I have ever let this happen?
He was better by last night and was gaining color back in his complexion and had more energy.
Yesterday, we both learned a lesson. First, we must eat to survive, but secondly and most importantly, we need to listen to each other.