February 9, 2007
Pinan NiShoSanYonGodan
What? You don’t recognize the name of the kata I did tonight? Well, you wouldn’t be alone, because no one could recognize the kata that I did at karate class tonight.
Our instructor decided that we would all do an individual kata starting with the high rank. That was me. Joy.
I stood up and he said that he was going to pick a random kata. It could be current or review. Let me put it this way:
Open-hand kata’s that a 3rd kyu should know: 9
Weapons kata’s that a 3rd kyu should know: 5
Waza’s that a 3rd kyu should know: 8
Having your instructor choose one of the kata’s that has fallen victim to brown belt amnesia?
Priceless.
As I stood there willing my instructor to choose anything BUT Pinan Shodan, he chose just that kata. Apparently, black belts now have mad mind reading skills in addition to their karate know-how.
Several months ago at testing, another instructor asked me to review Pinan Shodan with a few green belts before they would test. I had no clue how it started. Once they showed me how it started, I thought I would be o.k. Usually, once you’re in the routine of a kata, it just comes to you. But it didn’t.
I felt like a complete idiot in front of these young green belts and their parents. I remembered how, as a white belt, I used to look at the brown belts and think, "Why can’t they remember their kata’s? That won’t happen to me." Yeah right.
So, my instructor got me started by showing me the opening moves and then I would go about five moves before freezing in disgust, and muttering "crap" underneath my breath so that my instructor would know he had to give me a hint. At one point, he told me "knife hands" and I looked at him with no clue and said, "That means nothing to me." It wasn’t until he said "naha turn" that I figured out where I was supposed to be. Once I got beyond that point, I was o.k., but talk about feeling stupid in front of a class full of mostly white belts.
Big I was the next highest rank and our instructor asked her to do the first kata, Nai Hanchi Shodan. She put together a creative little routine filled with some tentative blocks and some spirited snap kicks, but like her mother, she had no clue. Our instructor stood up and helped her and upon sitting back down we both agreed that we need to do some more work at home.
But before we get to that I have one more excuse for my pitiful performance. Pinan Shodan was right around the time that I was pregnant or just returning to karate after giving birth to Lil C, so I’m blaming childbirth amnesia. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
You watch. Some day there will be a kata called Pinan NiShoSanYonGodan. I’m just ahead of my time. . .
February 7, 2007
It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to
Today is the third anniversary of my 29th birthday. I decided at age 29, I was done with this whole highly over-rated aging thing. When I asked Big I if she knew how old I was going to be, she said 60. And here I thought my wrinkle cream was actually working.
Since turning "29", I’ve discovered a couple things about birthdays. Up until you turn 21, birthdays are pretty cool. Then, it seems that the big deal that used to be your birthday becomes just another day on the calendar filled with bills, chores, and other nonsense. People don’t make a big deal about your birthday anymore until you’re like 80 and have beat the average person’s life span. Then, it’s time for surprise parties and celebrations again.
I thought I would celebrate my birthday by including some pictures for your enjoyment and laughter (You don’t get through the 80’s as a kid without some serious fashion no-no’s). Plus, 9 out of 10 blog readers agree that pictures keep you coming back for more. So, here are some of the highlights from my "29" years of this Earth.
You might recognize these baby eyes in my munchkins? I’ve never been accused of having small eyes.
Here I am at age three, where my dream of being a pro-hockey player (or marrying one) began.
Here I am at age five, on "the good ship lollipop," sporting the ever popular Dorthy Hamill bowl cut.
Second grade, or the year of Mom cutting my bangs before school pictures.
The rest of elementary school is a mixture of more bad hair: boy cuts, first perms. . . and here is the spiked hair perm. What the hell was I thinking when I requested that style?
This is 9th grade when I got to meet my FAVORITE hockey player in the ENTIRE WORLD, Rick Tocchet. Notice the deer in the headlights look. I was shaking like a leaf when I met him. I realized that his head was like twice the size of mine and that I probably didn’t want to be birthing any hockey player kids (Instead I married a valedictorian with a big head anyway).
10th grade brought a longer and bigger hairstyle. It was the age of the spiral perm. My bangs never cooperated and besides an occasional zit, my bangs were my biggest teenage "issue."
Here I am with my best guy friend (who happens to be the designer for the banner on this site). The hair only gets bigger for a while. . .
See what I mean. This is my freshman year in college and I’m still loving the big hair.
Just one of many "ripped the jerk out of the picture" pictures. This is actually the last one, and you’ll see why in a few seconds. . .
Here’s my first car, after I bought a custom leather "bra" for the front of it to make it look "cool." I also had my best guy friend install a booming system that would make LL proud. In the end, I had to come to grips with the fact that it was still a Geo Metro with no AC. (My sister took over this car when I went back to college, put Animals Rights stickers all over it, and added Christmas lights to the back seat. I kid you not.)
Edited to add: Apparently my sister doesn’t recall the stickers. My Dad taught us to NEVER put any stickers on our cars, but I swear she taped them to the inside of the windows or something. I distinctly remember stickers. She also reminded me that there was an animated Santa standing on my booming system speakers in the back. Gotta love little sisters when they take over your car.)
Here’s a picture from the early days with Mr. BBM. Apparently I thought this pose was an appropriate enough one to let my Mom photograph us. Um, no, so NOT happening with MY GIRLS EVER EVER NEVER.
And four years later. . . one of our wedding picture.
My first moments with my first baby. . . Big I. I look like that because it was a very long and painful, but life altering and amazing day.
My first few hours with Lil C, after a shower because I didn’t want to subject you to two pictures of post labor and pain BBM.
Obtaining my brown belt in karate, which was such a cool day.
Meeting Sebastian Junger, because OMG!
Hanging out with Santa and the girls. . .
My most recent picture, hiding behind Lil C because Mr. BBM is determined to take the least flattering pictures of me EVER.
And that about does it. Happy "29th" Birthday to me! Enjoy the pictures. My family certainly enjoyed helping me pick out the school days ones.
Now where’s my cake?
February 4, 2007
Chase’s book
When I taught high school many years ago, I became good friends with my mentor. She had a son who always amazed my husband and me. And today, he really amazes me.
Several years ago, Chase was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. He discovered that there wasn’t much in the way of personal information available about the disease and medical jargon only gets you so far.
He started by doing walks for the ADA and the JDRF. Then he collected donations to purchase Crystal Light packets for the diabetics at school to put in their bottled water at lunch. Then, he decided to write a book. He collected letters from people all over the country and the world from people with Type 1 Diabetes. He put all the letters into a book, and at age 14, his book went on sale today at www.lulu.com. You can view or purchase the book here.
It’s a great book for anyone with Type 1 Diabetes, especially those newly diagnosed. My own Mom, who is also a Type 1 Diabetic, contributed her story for his book. If you know anyone who might be interested in the book, pass it along!
February 4, 2007
Mish-Mash
There’s so much to say but I can’t seem to focus on any one thing. So, here are all the posts I started this week and never finished.
1. Do not, under any circumstances, purchase a home with wallpaper on the walls unless you are EXTREMELY happy with said wallpaper and plan on keeing it on for all eternity. Can you guess what I’ve been doing this weekend?
Mr. BBM and I have been removing all traces of the peachy, flowery wallpaper from our bathroom. Why didn’t anyone tell me that hitting myself in the head with a hammer would be a better use of my time? The not being able to put anything coherent together could be that I’m coated in gooey wallpaper glue. Is that stuff toxic?
2. At karate this week, we worked on bunkai for waza’s and it was awesome. I got to work with my instructor while working on the application. He went first and then I tried to go as fast and furiously as he did. I didn’t succeed at matching his speed, obviously, but I didn’t do a bad job either. This whole faking confidence until you have it thing is working out well for me.
3. After black belt class this week I spent some time trying on my instructors gi’s to determine size and weight. I’ve been using my lightweight student gi all this time. I’m going to upgrade from a 6 oz. gi to a 12 oz. heavyweight gi. I tried a jacket on and threw some punches and it was like I was a different person. The snap that I’ve been longing for was there. The only problem is deciding which one. There are so many different gi’s out there, and the size charts are crazy.
I think it’s worse than shopping for a good pair of jeans. For guys it’s simple. I’ve watched my husband buy clothing over the years that he doesn’t even try on until he walks in the house, and whatever he buys always fits perfectly. Then there’s me. . . a size 4 in some brands, a 6 in others, an 8 in yet another brand and if it’s a dress? Then all bets are off because I can fall anywhere between a 2 and an 8. If someone inspected my closet they’d think three different people share it.
After black belt class I had a decent idea of what size and brand I wanted to order, but the jackets I tried on were all different brands and between brands, just like jeans, there’s a big difference. So, short of asking my instructors to strip down and let me try their gi’s on, there really weren’t any other options. So I did just that. My instructors recommended the Pro Force one so I’m going to go with that one. I don’t need an expensive one-I just want one that snaps.
I wish I could get a black gi, but unfortunately those are reserved for black belts only right now. I don’t want it so I can look all big and bad. I’d just like it for the fact that it would hide the pre-karate dinner stains that are inevitable when you have kids in the house. Take for example the sloppy joe stain on my pants last week. Despite a generous dose of Oxyclean (that didn’t work), followed by a shot of carpet cleaner that my husband guaranteed would work (it didn’t), I went to the dojo with a sloppy joe stain AND a big wet mark on my leg, all the while smelling like carpet cleaner meets Oxyclean. There was no doubting I had my shower for the day.
And now, Lil C is bugging me to put headbands and bows on her stuffed Elmo, so I have to run. That and I need to go inhale some paint fumes or something. My bathroom is a disaster. Before and after pictures to come when we’ve managed to transform our bathroom from the mess it is now into a masterpiece.
Happy Super Bowl Sunday!
February 1, 2007
Don’t Go It Alone at the Mall
The girls and I have been settled into this boring routine since Christmas. The money’s all been spent and as the credit card bills roll in, there’s not much to do other than hang out at home. I decided that we needed to get out of the house for a bit so we attempted to go shopping, the three of us. Since I don’t have any local shopping friends and my relatives all have day jobs, I had to go it alone. Can you say "nightmare"?
Here are the reasons why, if you have a 5-year old and a 1-year old, you should NEVER, under any circumstances, go to the mall alone:
1. With no one to supervise the stroller as you’re unstrapping your 1-year old from the car (and since Mr. BBM recently pumped up the stroller’s tires), the stroller will decide that now is the perfect get-away attempt time. You will end up chasing the stroller across four parking spaces and into moving traffic with your 1-year old in your arm and your 5-year old screaming and crying from the car because she thinks you’ve left her there for all eternity.
2. Once snug in the largest dressing room known to man, your 1-year old will inevitably attempt an under the door escape, but she’ll most definitely wait until your pants are around your ankles.
3. Attempting to browse the 70% off sale racks is futile as your children will decide it’s a perfect time to chase each other around the racks, giving you an anxiety attack every seven seconds as you lose site of them and then reestablish contact.
4. Your 1-year old will decide that in order to get away from her sister, crawling around and under the racks is a fabulous idea.
5. In fact, laying face down on the floor in the department store, right next to the 20 year old gum stain, is a PERFECT place to rest a little 1-year old head when the chasing game gets to be too much.
6. Without an additional person to supervise while you divide up soft pretzels and drinks, your 1-year old will decide to take a fateful sip from your diet coke and send diet coke flying all over the bench, the pretzels and herself. This, in turn, will make your 5-year old lose part of her slushie through her nose.
7. At some point, your 5-year old will step in the elevator and your 1-year old will decide this is the PERFECT time to run back towards the clothes racks away from the elevator. Everyone around will think you’re insane as you charge towards the 1-year old and SCREAM for the 5-year old to "GET OUT OF THE ELEVATOR" Jack Bauer style.
8. Bathroom stalls are not made to accomodate a stroller, a Mommy, a 5-year old and a curious 1-year old.
9. Because there’s no way in HELL, your 1-year old will tolerate sitting in a stroller. PSHAW, yeah right Mama! Instead she will run at full speed towards store-front glass windows, make mad dashes towards the Disney Store and their stuffed animal rotunda whenever she sees a chance, and decide that the mulch surrounding the wishing fountain isn’t such tough terrain if one truly wants to take a little swim.
10. Your Christmas gift certificate will end up getting spent on pretzels, slushies and other miscellaneous crap for your kids. The entire afternoon will be such a nightmare that you swear off shopping with the children forever (won’t Mr. BBM be happy?).
Anyone want to be my shopping buddy?
With training like this. . . karate class will be a piece of cake.
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