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Was That Below the Belt?

Was That Below the Belt?

A few weeks ago, there was a huge boxing match on Pay Per View and my husband and I were invited to a friend’s to watch. Some MFA…MLA…MCA? Whatever, some kickboxer (as all men roll their eyes at my description) decided to step away from his area of fighting and step into the boxing ring. The only thing I can remember about his opponent is that he was really good and everyone on Facebook said he also liked to step into the ring with his wife from time to time. Can you tell that this sport isn’t on my priority list? Anyways, I had zero excitement for the actual fight but lots of excitement for a kid-free night out with my husband, some good friends, great food which I couldn’t eat (read the Whole30 blog), and lots of laughs. If I have to pretend to watch boxing for that, then so be it.

As the fight began, most of the women corralled inside for comfy couches and air conditioning while the guys watched outside on the patio. I feel like whenever people order these fights, there’s a minimum of three televisions broadcasting the same thing. I now see why. As you can imagine, the conversations were drastically different with each audience. The guys assessed odds, prior opponents, and fighting capabilities. The girls? Well, we were very concerned with the abundance of bling, tassels, and fringe that some fighters seemed to think was necessary for their fight. I mean, I’m all about a grand entrance, but are fur booties and boxing shorts bedazzled with your secret code name absolutely necessary when you’re about to punch someone in the face?

As the fight progressed, my friend pointed out the interactions between the referee (is that what they’re called for boxing?) and the fighters, and made a comment that sent us into fits of laughter for the next few hours. Her idea? That moms would hands down make amazing boxing refs. In fact, we would probably do a better job.

Now. If you’re a mom of multiple children any age other than a newborn, this will make complete sense. If your kids have never fought with each other a day in their life then I want to live in whatever altered reality you’re living in. Because wherever that is, there must also be unicorns and Hogwarts. And well, I’d do just about anything to see one of those two things.

So why would we make incredible referees?

First and foremost, tone of voice. I feel like all the refs we watched had a quiet, calm demeanor that didn’t change, even when fighters broke the rules multiple times. No mom I’ve ever met remains this calm around constant fighting. I guarantee, if a boxer continued to break a rule with a mom as a ref, the shrill, high pitched command of, “If you hit below the belt one more time” would garner a much better response from both the boxers, and the audience.

In addition, at the end of each round, fighters go to their respective corners. This is an art moms have mastered. Oh, you’re gonna give your opponent attitude as you return to your corner? While normal refs seem to disregard this blatant show of peacock feathers, moms would grab hold of their giant cauliflower ear and drag their asses to that mini stool that is shorter than the ones my kids use to brush their teeth.

And what’s up with those latex gloves refs wear? You think any mom takes the time to make sure the environment is sanitary when she’s calling a fight? Nope.

Moms would also be much better judges for when to call a fight before the end of the 12th round. Some fighters seem to barely stagger before the referee heroically declares the competition over, in order to save the loser from further injury. Listen here, if I’m going to hit pause on Grey’s Anatomy and physically put down my champagne to end a fight, there better be blood, guts, or a limb that needs amputation. Mama ain’t got time for whiners.

As boxing referees, moms would also make some significant changes to the rules. For example, in boxing, you cannot punch your opponent’s back. Seriously? This is my kids’ signature move. That’s like telling kids that they can’t keep fighting if one of them cries. The crying initiates the peak of the fight and I feel like boxers need to just suck it up. Have you ever seen a toddler get hit in the back. Those kids turn around with the wrath of a jungle panther. Allowing “rear side strikes” would surely put a little pep in some boxers step to get back in the game. Match. Whatever.

Also, a boxer only has ten seconds to get up after being “floored”. Ten seconds? I give my kids a solid minute of recovery time before I call any fight. If there’s no blood, probably longer. I mean, you gotta get your bearings after your sister takes your lightsaber and gouges your spine with it. That’s a solid 20 seconds of screaming, 20 seconds of rolling on the floor writhing, and at least 30 more of wiping tears and snot before resuming the fight. I’ve witnessed many comebacks from my 4-year-old and so I feel like professional boxing matches would be much more entertaining if we allowed fighters more time to recover so that they can get back at it. Don’t you think?

So the next time I use my superhero referee skills to keep my kids from literally killing each other, I’d really prefer to get paid a boxing referee’s salary. I work harder, for longer hours, clean up more bodily fluids, and do not receive hazard pay. Basically, add this occupation to the long list of jobs we would just simply do better than others. With. Or without the bling.

Shoutout once again to my girl Crystal for this epic blog idea. Love you doll.

Oh, and if you’re wondering about the featured image, this was taken seconds before a full-blown boxing match after Mack crossed over the imaginary line into Grant’s half of the chair.

Round one. Begin.

Megan Rix

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