Trouble
At karate class this week, I’m going to ask what to do if someone is pulling your hair with both hands in two separate locations and two separate directions. I need an action plan for this scenario. I’m also going to ask how to deal with someone who is biting you with two extremely jagged and sharp little teeth. Ouch. And now I reveal to you the perpetrator. . .
They don’t look like much, those two little nubs; but I can not even begin to tell you how bad it hurts to have your shoulder used as a teether on a somewhat constant basis. Also, your leg, arm, finger, face. . . yeah, that one was really good.
Lil C has gone from this cuddly little baby to what Big I refers to as "The Baby Monster." She can have about 1000 toys out on the floor that are her own, but she will find a way to get to: cords, remote controls, phones, Big I’s toys, books that don’t belong to her, etc. etc. etc. Today, she crawled over my stomach and across the living room. She finally ended up here. . .
Despite her face in that picture, she was actually quite thrilled with herself. She then decided that she wanted to stand up underneath the exersaucer. . .
Followed by deciding to work her way out from underneath the equipment. . .
And then, then people, she went from her belly to a sitting position (which is old news here). I wasn’t that concerned, until I saw her reaching up for the exersaucer. Seconds later. . . you guessed it. . . she was standing holding onto the saucer. No, I don’t have a picture of this little feat because I was busy holding both of my arms out in an attempt to catch her when she finally let go. I am so in trouble people. I need to baby proof NOW! I kept thinking I’d have more time. I thought she wouldn’t be on her feet or attempting to be on her feet for a while now. Boy, was I wrong. I have now officially begun my full time 24/7 job of being Lil C’s constant shadow. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.
I fought the law. . .
We are going on vacation very soon, and my husband mentioned the other day that our one car needs to be inspected during the month of May. He then shrugged it off and said, "Well, it can wait until we get back (in June). It’s not like we’re driving that car on vacation." My eyes popped wide open and I yelled, "NO. That car must be inspected before we leave." The memory of what happened a few years ago is still very fresh in my memory.
Fade to four years ago. . .
We bought our car back when Big I was a baby. We bought it new and had it for a few months at the time of the incident. We had two months left before our registration had to be renewed. We were under the wrong assumption that the registration and inspection due dates were one and the same. I was on the way to the store with Big I, heading east on a windy back road. I was going the speed limit. A police car passed me heading west on the road. Several minutes later, the police car is behind me, lights flashing. Because a van had just pulled out in front of me and was speeding by a playground going at least 40 in a 25 mph zone, I promptly pulled off the road to allow him to go around me and go get the guy. To my shock and horror, he pulled up behind me.
The officer walked up to my car window and asked for my registration and license. I was fumbling around trying to find everything to hand to him, wishing I could just work up some tears. I had heard that tears work wonders. Unfortunately for me, tears don’t come on demand.
"Do you know why I pulled you over?" he asked.
"No. I know it wasn’t because I was speeding though, because I wasn’t."
"No, you weren’t," he responded. "Your inspection sticker is expired."
"My what?" I looked at him baffled.
He tapped the window and repeated himself. I remember saying something about how I didn’t know and that it wasn’t yet time for our inspection because I was falsely thinking that both the registration and inspection were due at the same time. I may have said, "My husband takes care of these things." He wasn’t impressed.
He walked back to his car with my license and called it in. I sat there shaking. I had never once been pulled over in my life. Not when I was a stupid teenager driving way too fast so I would make it home by curfew (Don’t fret now Mom. I’m grown and I’m alive and well). I wasn’t even cited in the one car accident I was in where I accidentally rear-ended a car when it slammed on its brakes to avoid hitting a cop who was in the middle of the street, at night, painting lines on the road. Idiot. So, I wasn’t familiar with how this drill went down. I was getting more upset by the second.
The officer walked back to me, handed me back my license and registration and then handed me a ticket for $90.
"$90??? You can’t just give me a warning? I have never been pulled over in my life. I am driving a BRAND NEW CAR. I’ll go get the car inspected TODAY. It’s not like I was putting anyone in danger or anything."
"I can’t do that," he said smugly. He walked back to his car. I wasn’t shaking anymore because I was upset. Now I was fuming mad. I’m not the type to cry; I get ticked off instead. Unfortunately, that’s not good for the whole "getting a warning" thing.
I drove home, and then went straight to a Jiffy Lube to have the car inspected immediately. I ranted to my parents, husband and anyone else who would listen about it. Sure, I was in the wrong; but did he have to be such a jerk? I was driving a brand new car. . . a stay at home Mom with a baby in the backseat. I mean, weren’t there some criminals more worthy of his time? I decided to fight the ticket. I figured that my pre-law major for the first year of college would get me through it. I spent the weeks before the trial getting ready.
When my trial date came, I had a babysitter and showed up for court. For some reason, they had to reschedule me for the following week. I couldn’t get a babysitter this time, so Big I had to come with me. She was only a little over a year old at the time. I was already ticked off that my I had to bring my child along because they were too stupid to be prepared on the day of my court date.
So, I showed up for court armed with my Jiffy Lube inspection receipt and my clean driving record thinking that I would have absolutely no problem getting rid of this $90 charge. I had to wait a good hour to get called in and by then, Big I had fallen asleep on my shoulder. The court clerk finally called my name.
The Judge began the proceedings and my friendly non-warning-friendly cop was there. He took the stand first. Armed with his police report he stated that I had been driving east on the road and that he had pulled me over, blah, blah, blah. He finished his testimony and started to get down from the stand. The Judge took a cursory glance at me and asked if I’d like to cross examine the witness. I think he was a little shocked when I said yes. So was the officer as he sat back down.
Me: "Officer, can you tell me which direction I was driving in when you saw my expired inspection ticket?"
Officer: consults notes, says smugly "East."
Me: "In which direction were you traveling?"
Officer: rolls eyes "West."
Me: "Was I going the speed limit when you saw me?"
Officer: "I think so. Yes."
Me: "Well to clarify, yes, I was. After you saw my expired sticker, how much farther did you have to drive in order to turn around to head back east in my direction?"
Officer: getting flustered "I’m not sure."
Me: "Well, judging from where I was when I saw you, you had to at least travel a distance of about three blocks, before pulling off and turning back around, pulling out and heading east after me. Would you say that’s a fair estimate?"
Officer: "Yes."
Me: "So, in order for you to catch up to me, you would have had to go above the speed limit. You would have had to speed. Is that correct?"
Officer: stumbles around his words, "Well, um… "
Me: "Yes or no, officer. It’s a simple question. In order to catch up with me, would you have had to speed?"
Officer: ears flaming red "Well, yes."
At this point, the judge clears his throat because he is trying not to laugh. The cop is looking at me with complete and utter disbelief. He so did not see this coming.
Me: "When you pulled me over, were you aware of the van that had pulled out in front of me? The van that was speeding by a playground?"
Officer: "No."
Me: "Well, for the record, there was a van that was speeding in front of me. In fact, I pulled off the road so quickly because I thought you were going to go after the van. Officer, my question for you is this: In your professional opinion, who is more likely to cause harm to society, a van speeding by a playground or a stay-at-home-mom driving the speed limit in a brand new car who forgot to get her car inspected?"
Officer: extremely flustered "Well, it depends. . . "
Me: "Officer, let’s be honest here. Who truly is likely to cause more harm: someone speeding by a playground or someone driving a new car whose inspection sticker is expired by a week? Who can potentially cause more harm? It’s a simple question that requires a simple answer."
Officer: grumbles "The person speeding."
Me: "Really, Officer? So, in other words, you and the van in front of me were more likely to cause harm than I was on that day?"
Officer: "Well, it depends. If you’re driving an unsafe car. . . "
Me: "But the car was brand new, was it not?"
Officer: "It was." hangs head
Me: "So, it’s not like I was driving a lemon or anything right? It’s not like my car was likely to lose a wheel or fall apart and cause harm?"
Officer: Face now matches ears in their fiery redness. Sighs tiredly.
Me: "I have one last question for you officer. What type of ticket brings more revenue into your township: an expired inspection ticket or a speeding ticket?"
Officer: stutters, sputters, grasps at straws, "That doesn’t matter. . . "
Me: "But it does. Answer the question please. What ticket brings in more revenue?"
Officer: grumbles quietly "Inspection ticket."
Me: "So, in other words, bringing revenue in to the township is more important than catching people who might do harm to people?"
Officer: defeated, sighs.
Me: "I have no further questions."
I then presented my evidence: my Jiffy Lube receipt and asked the judge for a warning. I testified to my extremely clean driving record. I was holding my baby in my arms, sleeping on my shoulder during this whole ordeal. I mean, For God’s sake, have a heart already. I need $90 worth of diapers, not stupid tickets.
The officer called me to the stand and only asked me one question. He asked me whether or not my inspection sticker was indeed expired. Well, duh.
The judge thought an entire 10 seconds before he handed down the verdict of Guilty. Apparently, beating up the officer verbally had been the only reprieve I was going to get.
My jaw dropped and I stood up and started yelling. I told the officer and the judge that I didn’t even know why I bothered to come fight it. I told them they were pathetic for not giving someone with a perfectly clean driving record a warning. I then left the court room, and told the entire waiting room to not bother wasting their time and to go the hell home instead. I told them they’d have better luck telling their argument to a wall. I wrote my check for $90 and stormed out of there.
Needless to say, the car will be inspected in May.
You HAVE to see this. . .
Love him or hate him, you have to admit that this is hysterical. He is one good sport, who definitely knows how to have some fun!
Five Things
I saw this over at Thinking About and thought I would give it a go.
In my fridge:
- Sprout bread. It sounds gross, I know. But my husband brought it home and it grew on me. It’s especially good as toast, with a little butter and cinnamon.
- Lots of containers of half eaten baby food.
- A teether toy or two.
- Diet Rite-I can’t live without it.
- Paul Newman Family Italian dressing-I can’t be without it either.
In my car:
- My bo and my tunfa weapons.
- Two strollers: one for rough terrain, one for shopping (neither of which Lil C will tolerate for more than five minutes).
- Two Shakira CD’s.
- A pen for writing down Litter Butts info.
- About four gazillion toys that have been thrown in a fit of giggles by Lil C.
In my purse:
- Entirely too many pictures of my kids. I still have pictures of Big I when she was a baby (and when I say pictures, I mean every single one she’s ever had taken since she was born).
- As if the pictures in the wallet weren’t enough, I also have two mini photo albums of my kids.
- A wallet with entirely too much junk in it, yet little or no money. My husband calls it a "Costanza" wallet. Ever see that Seinfeld episode?
- Tissues, because I finally got with it and decided to be a good Mom.
- Tweezers, because somehow the light outside in the car is always so much better than inside.
In my closet:
- A collection of bridesmaid dresses that I’m keeping around so my girls can play dress up.
- A ton of clothes that I don’t wear but have some sort of sentimental connection to for some odd reason, so in the closet they will stay.
- Some maternity clothes that I forgot to pack up with the rest of it.
- A ton of pointy-toed-backless heels in a wide variety of cool colors.
- Depending on the moment, possibly my daughter pretending to be a scary monster.
In my head:
- Why is it that we’ve called an end to Mommy Wars, no problem (thank goodness); but political name-calling is perfectly acceptable?
- Why can some completely incompetent people pop out kid after kid, but one of my best friends (who is a fabulous Mother) can’t seem to after 17 months of heart-breaking trying?
- How will I possibly keep my sanity while packing for vacation for not one, but two kids this year (one who requires an awful lot of extra equipment)?
- How annoying is it that EVERYWHERE you go there seem to be cliques: kindergarten orientation, neighborhoods, playgroups, even in the blogging world strangely enough?
- Pain, because I’ve had a headache on and off all week long which is making me feel especially grumpy and miserable, which probably explains all this other stuff in my head.
I won’t tag anyone for this one. If you want to, go for it. I’ve got too much of a headache to be an enforcer this week. Also, I don’t know who I’d tag since I already pulled my tag-a-famous-blogger stunt with smashing results. So, if you want to, go for it and let me know you did.
A Lesson in Restraint
In karate, everyone is always talking about control. [Mat] recently learned what happens when the person you are sparring with lacks control. His opponent also lacked decorum and respect. Lirian Fae has also found out about control, or the lack thereof, recently. Higher ranks are supposed to have control over their punches and kicks during sparring or bag work. In other words, you don’t have to knock someone on to the ground to prove you’re effective. The people who have the most control over their moves are the ones who know their distance and timing as well.
I’ve got a lesson for you in control. Tonight at karate class, we did bag work. We haven’t done bag work in a while because our classes have been pretty small. Tonight, our class was filled with little people. (I felt so old it wasn’t even funny.) The closest person in age to me? He’s in high school. Most of the students tonight were closer to Big I’s age then to mine. So, when we were told to get in pairs, I was hoping that Big I would want to pair up with someone more her size and rank. Not a chance. "I want to be your partner, o.k.? O.k.? O.k?" There were two brown belts in class, one green (me), one yellow and then five little white belts. I was hoping for some brown belt action, but it wasn’t to be. 
So, I held the bag for her first. We started with snap kicks. Instead of holding her fists up in front of her and using them to balance (I don’t expect her to actually move them around yet to block while kicking), she swings her arms up and down with each kick. Each kick ends up looking sort of like an out of control pendulum swinging up and maybe making contact with the bag before it goes crashing down to the floor usually along with the rest of her body. Tonight she made some decent contact with the bag; her kicking technique is another story. She does seem to take a special kind of joy in kicking Mommy though. That can be a little disturbing. So, after Big I gave Mommy (and her own butt) a beating, it was my turn.
After being in a bear of a mood all day long, I was hoping to be able to really nail the bag, maybe do some thrust kicks or something. With Big I, I’m lucky if she’ll hold the bag upright instead of sitting on it and pretending it’s a raft. (Yes, bo’s are ‘horsies’; bags are rafts. We’ll get there people, eventually).
When Big I holds the bag, it goes from her ankles to just under her chin. Instead of holding the handles on the sides of the bag like I do, she loops her one arm through the handles on the back of the bag. Instead of getting into a side ways nai hanchi or a front facing seisan stance for support, she usually teeters on her heels, grinning ear to ear and trying to just hold the bag up. Honestly, all I really hoped for is that she would just hold the bag still.
While partnering with her over the past year or so, I have snap kicked the bag right up into her chin on numerous occasions. This shouldn’t happen if you’re holding the bag correctly. Big I doesn’t seem to mind though. She usually cracks up, and stumbles around the dojo with the heavy bag, her arm firmly looped through the back handles. Sometimes, she thinks that when she has the heavy bag, it’s time for a good old-fashioned game of tag. It can get a little frustrating at times, but her laugh is so intoxicating and funny that it’s hard not to be at least a little bit amused.
So, Big I held the bag like she always does, stumbling around from side to side and back to front, forcing me to constantly reevaluate where I would place my kick and how far away I needed to be from her in order to not send her flying. Each kick, I grazed the bag, moving it enough to let her know I hit it, but not enough to throw her for a loop. I was frustrated in the beginning, but then I started looking at it as a learning experience. When, after all, will a sparring partner or a bad person on the street for that matter, stand still so I can kick them?
They won’t.
So, just as I was adjusting to the constant resetting for snap kicks, my instructor decided to change it up with round house kicks. When doing round house kicks with a partner, the partner turns sideways and holds the bag in front of them. You stand facing the opposite direction, draw you foot up, lean away from the kicking leg, and extend your leg out the side to make contact with the bag with the top of your foot.
Round house kicks are challenging. You must maintain good balance. You must land your kick and then place your foot back down and reset. I’ve found them to be the most challenging kick, even more so than the back or side kick. I didn’t realize how challenging they would be though, until I had a squirmy kid holding the bag who just didn’t get it. She kept turning and facing me, forcing me to kick the side of the bag, a rather small target of only a few inches, compared to the front of the bag. I had to constantly readjust my position in order to make contact with the bag. It was sort of like a karate merry-go-round.
If there is one thing that Big I just doesn’t get, it’s positioning. After working with the bags for a while, we were divided up into groups. The white and yellow belts went to work on some of the lower kata’s and the brown belt and I went to work on our material with our instructor. I stole a couple glances across the dojo at Big I and instead of facing the mirror while doing kata, she firmly plants herself directly in front of someone who is doing the kata. She does this sort of dance the entire time. My instructor just figured it out a few weeks ago. She learns best if you mirror her. You have to be facing her; standing beside her doesn’t work. I guess this could explain why her positioning with the bags is so off too. She just doesn’t see how the system is supposed to work yet. I have faith though, that eventually she will.
In another few weeks, I am going to start staying for the later class which is all brown belts, mostly ones who will be testing for black belt in the summer. I am hoping for some good bag work then where I can focus on my technique more than on crazy distancing (I’ll save those lessons for sparring.) In the meantime, I’ve got my heavy bag downstairs; and apparently learning better technique is going to have to be a solitary venture.
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