Unfinished Business
Thank you for all of your fabulous guesses as to what Mr. BBM would bring me back from Germany. The man did not disappoint, but apparently he’d like me to be fat and drunk. Mr. BBM brought me back an insanely good box of chocolates from Germany. It’s the kind of chocolate that you can’t stop eating, but if you eat more than two of them at a time you feel incredibly nauseous. Lil C also highly approves. She got a tube full of candy and a fairy backpack and doll, but as soon as I opened up that box of very expensive chocolates, she thrust her hand in there, came out with the biggest one in the whole box, and shoved the entire thing in her mouth. Like mother, like daughter I guess.
Mr. BBM also brought me back a box of chocolate covered cherries. One minor difference between these and your ordinary chocolate covered cherries. . . these are filled, and I mean FILLED, with brandy. I must be honest. I am not a fan. I didn’t realize that I was doing the equivalent of a shot on a Saturday afternoon after a morning full of karate. I think I got a little buzz off that liquor filled chocolate and I don’t think I’ll be eating any more of them. I also need to make sure they stay above little hands because one thrust of the little hands into that box and we’re going to have a problem in the form of a drunken toddler.
Keeping with the drunken theme, Mr. BBM also brought me a box full of four varieties of chocolate liquors. I got on this little kick last year of occasionally having an evening dessert coffee with a drop of Godiva chocolate liquor, and apparently Mr. BBM thinks I should be having more of those. One of the liquors has 87% cocoa. That one’s going to be awesome.
Speaking of awesome, I’ve apparently figured out who one of my lurkers happens to be. . .
Kyle apparently reads my blog "all the time" and tagged me for this meme, "7 Random Things about Me." You already know weird things about me and other random facts so this one was difficult. Hope it holds your interest better than those liquor cherries held mine. . .
1. I am addicted to Webkinz.
Do you know what these things are? If not, then I strongly advise you to go to your local Hallmark store and pick one up. They are these little stuffed animals that are totally adorable; but that’s not the addicting part. They all come with a code. You go to the website, enter the code, "adopt" your pet, name him/her, and then get started having fun. They have games on that site that are more addicting than Tetris (Cash Cow 2 people, it’s awesome!). They also have this tile tower game that I can NOT stop playing. I admit that when Big I is at school, you can frequently find me on there playing a game or two. When you play games, you earn money to buy things for your pet like food, appliances, clothes, and furniture. I can’t afford furniture in my own house right now, but I can totally give Big I’s pets cool digs. SO ADDICTING, but on the record? I’m just playing to help Big I get more money. Totally.
2. I have a problem with "belly rubbers."
Pregnancy. It’s an amazing miracle. It’s exciting when you have this little life growing inside of you. Sure, I spent hours with my hand on my stomach feeling Big I and Lil C kicking and moving all around. But I was NOT a belly rubber. Belly rubbers are those who are CONSTANTLY rubbing their stomachs. ALL. THE. TIME. When I was pregnant with Big I there was another woman who was pregnant and only a week or two ahead of me. At two months (no lie) she would stand there talking to me about her baby and rubbing her stomach. One day, I let her in on the fact that she was just rubbing her distended bowel, and not an actual baby. That didn’t stop her. I guess she enjoyed aiding her own digestion, but it really annoyed me.
3. I am an amusement park nightmare.
If it goes back and forth, or around and round, I am not at all interested. My Dad once made me go on this ride called "The Conestoga Wagon." It’s sort of like one of those pirate ship rides, except instead of just back and forth, it goes up and all the way around. I told my Dad I couldn’t do it but he insisted we all go on as a family. Thinking back, he was probably worried that I would go off chasing some cute boy while the rest of the family was on the ride (He was probably right). Anyway, he spent a couple dollars on a lemonade for me right before we went on the ride. It was completely and totally wasted, as I exited the ride and promptly barfed. Water flume rides, water park slides and Disney-ish rides are all good, but anything else is just not. I’d rather eat my way through a park.
4. I can’t ever find ANYTHING.
At least once a day, I will usually call my husband at work and ask him, "Where is/are . . . ?" You can insert the following words into that sentence: keys, purse, shoes, Lil C’s shoes, Lil C’s tooth brush, that leftover hamburger, Big I’s library book, etc. Half of the blame goes to my brain which can’t remember where anything is, ever. The other half of the blame rests squarely on Mr. BBM who is CONSTANTLY moving things on me. For example, "Oh here’s a hammer. I think I’ll put that in my underwear drawer." GRR. By the way, Mr. BBM will deny this but don’t listen to him.
5. Fellow bloggers are some of my best friends.
My parents think it’s weird. Mr. BBM knows more about you guys than he does about my own family, I swear. But I value my friendships via this blog so insanely much. When Karl wrote about going on a date, I wanted to jump for joy. When Da Mack Daddy and Maniacal Jenn had new arrivals to their families, I squealed with happiness for them. When Scott beat cancer and started attacking life with vigor, I was overjoyed. John is like my big brother in the martial arts world. Papa Bradstein makes me laugh until I cry. When my fellow martial arts bloggers get promotions, injuries, or something else entirely, I am right there with them, cheering them on, virtually or over my dinner table. These links don’t even begin to scratch the surface. I have great commenter buddies too, and I love all of you guys (except for those who flame me over stupid stuff, but that’s a different post. . . ).
6. Fantasy football has ruined cheering for my home team.
This year I was determined to get at least one player from my favorite team on my fantasy football teams. I figured, that way, I would be able to cheer for my favorite team at least every once in a while. It doesn’t help that I chose the wrong player, but I root against my favorite team a whole lot more than I root for them now. For the same reason, I try not to take any players from teams I don’t like (Dallas Cowboys for example). People talk about watching "the game;" but I’m much more interested in planting myself in front of the TV throughout the day Sunday and on Monday night to watch all the games. Two years ago, I considered buying a Ladainian Tomlinson jersey. I’ve never even been to San Diego! Fantasy football has ruined me. Ruined me, I tell you!
7. I’m an "acquired taste."
People who take the time to get to know me, know that I am a very caring and generous person. I’m also a lot of fun. I’m the girl who will step up and sing karaoke when no one else will. I’m the one who will do all of the interactive activities at the wax museum in order for me and my people to have the full experience. However, there are people that I just don’t mesh with well at all. My friend, who passed away last year, used to say that she liked me because she always knew where I stood. She said I "shoot straight from the hip" and that’s very true. I have no problem telling people what I think; I can be brutally honest (especially when it concerns my sister and her boyfriends). I’m the girl who will stick up for someone when no one else will, because it’s the right thing to do (I once stepped into a very unfair fight and physically removed the guy who was getting beat up by three other guys while onlookers much bigger than I, stood there and did nothing to help him.) I may not be everyone’s "cup of tea," but if we’re friends, you can feel pretty secure in the fact that I will always be honest with you and I always have your back.
Who to tag? Who to tag? If I linked you above, you’re it. Have fun!
I Wish and As I Suspected
Have you been to the My Heritage site lately? There’s a lot of fun to be had there. Take this for example: an 80% match with Jessica Alba??? I’ll take it. And, I don’t quite get why they always match me up with Asian women. Maybe they sense my inner karate. Who knows? Anyway, who wouldn’t be happy with these results?
I thought I’d try another picture and got these results. Lisa Ling? I think I’ll stick with the Jessica Alba one.
Also on that site, who could resist proving your husband’s family wrong? See that 10% more like me.
It must be true, because Lil C got the same results with the above picture with 10% and the below with 12%. Of course, I happen to think they are way off on this one as she is 99% me (including the attitude).
So, who do you look like???
By the way, awesome guesses so far on the German presents. I’ll be revealing the gifts in a future post. Keep guessing!
My husband went to Germany. . .
. . . and all I got was . . .
Well, what do you think? Think I’ll get anything at all (he comes back tomorrow)? I’m going with German shampoo samples from the hotel as my gift.
What do you think he’ll bring me?
Feel free to take a guess, even if you just rolled in here on a google search for scallop food poisoning. My visitor stats are going up like crazy, but my comments are not which means I have a lot of new lurkers. So, stop lurking and take a guess.
Bad Influence
I am often complimented on having well behaved children. I am frequently asked how I did that. The truth is, I really have no idea. I don’t tolerate temper tantrums and whining. I don’t indulge my kids to get them to do what I want them to do. I expect certain behaviors and they know there are consequences if those behavior expectations aren’t met. These things don’t seem like that big of a deal to me. It’s just how it’s going to be in this house and the girls know it.
I also got really lucky when I was blessed with my two awesome girls.
Today I took Lil C to her first story time at the library. The kids are anywhere between the ages of 18-36 months. When we first tried to walk in the room, Lil C put the brakes on. She will frequently do this. If we are about to walk into a store she doesn’t want to walk into, she will stop. I swear this toddler knows more about ki than I do, because she will drop hers, suddenly become 2000 pounds and practically impossible to move. It’s amazing. I think she was a zen master in a former life or something.
Today, she put on the brakes, but I was able to ease her into the room by pointing out the monkey puppets, the books, the kids. While most of the other kids talked during the story and/or wandered around (one little boy ran circles around the storyteller for a while), Lil C sat quietly on my lap and did nothing but pay attention. When I peeked around at her face, a slight grin rested on her lips. It was adorable.
After the stories were read, we did a craft. Crafts for Lil C at home go something like this. Big I gets out construction paper and markers. As soon as Lil C picks one up or starts drawing, Big I shows her "how to do it the right way" and a meltdown or a complete and total loss of interest then follows. Without her big sister to boss her around, Lil C was in heaven. She used a glue stick and made a monkey face. She glued googly eyes on and then used a marker to "decorate" her monkey further. She was an absolute angel.
As we were leaving the story room, she handed me her monkey craft so that she could pick up the monkey puppet on the floor. She held it and giggled for a couple seconds and then said, "Put it down. Time to go." She put that monkey back on the floor, grabbed her monkey and my hand and we left. I was floored. She’s a fabulous kid.
Sure, she occasionally rebels against anything that’s not pretzels or goldfish crackers; I sometimes spend entire days convincing her that she doesn’t need to eat another go-gurt. Sometimes her favorite word is "no" and she says it with her big sister’s attitude, but she is 99% a very good girl.
That’s why the recent additions to her vocabulary are that much more amusing horrifying amusing, no horrifying (I don’t know-you decide). On Sunday, Mr. BBM was getting ready for his trip to Germany (Yes, I’m surviving-thanks for asking) and he happened to stub his toe on my dresser while he was running around trying to locate matching socks, etc. He said "ouch." Lil C said, "Something-that-rhymes with ‘odd’, dam (like what a beaver makes), it." If you know Lil C and have spent any time around her, you know that her pronunciation is exquisite. If you say a big word, she will repeat it with precision, often sounding it out into syllables, and trying it out slowly a few times before she nails it.
She’s not yet two and she can say near perfectly the words: ridiculous, disgusting, and Sleeping Beauty. It’s amazing. But what was even more amazing is that no one had said those three words in a string for at least 15 minutes or longer, and yet she still equated Daddy hurting his toe with using those words. It was brilliant and funny and the three non-swearing members of our family burst out laughing. It was just that funny. She then repeated it, and I think that Big I cried a bucket of tears from laughter. I could hardly breathe I was laughing so hard (into my pillow of course to avoid drawing attention to it, but something tells me Lil C noticed that she was amusing us all).
Follow that with today’s choice word. Lil C had announced that she needed a diaper change, so I started to change her. I’ve been listening to a lot of Justin Timberlake lately and there’s this one song called "Damn Girl." If you’ve heard it you know that he repeats those words several times in a row and it’s a very catchy song. I’ve been singing it a lot. . . too much, apparently.
As I opened up the diaper, I couldn’t help myself. "Damn Girl" I started singing to Lil C. Big I was laughing her head off. Lil C giggled and then started rapping the song herself, "Damn girl, damn girl, damn girl, damn girl, damn." She did a perfect JT rendition and I about fell over.
I know you’re not supposed to react in any way, and the offending word will go away. But it is SO difficult not to laugh when she uses the words appropriately and with the proper emphasis with that little voice of hers.
I’ll tell you when I won’t be laughing though. . . when Lil C and I show up for cafeteria and recess chaperone duty this week. I’m hoping no one stubs their toe, and that she doesn’t need a diaper change. Otherwise, I’m going to have some explaining to do.
Valued
I have been at my new dojo for about a month now. I had no idea what to expect in the beginning. I was nervous. Would the people there wonder who I was and treat me differently since I walked in there as a 1st kyu and not a white belt? Would the instructors think I was any good? Would Big I adjust ok? I had a lot of worries and concerns. This is nothing new for me; I worry about everything.
Five weeks after starting, I can now say that the worries were completely unnecessary. I can’t tell you how happy we are to be at our new dojo home. Every single person there: kids, kyu ranks, black belts, and instructors have welcomed us with open arms. We have great training partners, great teachers, and are making some friends too.
Coming in to the new school, I figured I would just lay low, and get my feet wet gradually as I got to know everyone. I wanted to make sure I didn’t step on anyone’s toes or make any assumptions about anything. I’ve been approaching my training with eyes wide open, learning new things, and getting comfortable in my new surroundings.
So when I was asked to teach an intro lesson by myself to a new white belt this week, I was floored. For the past few weeks, I’ve been asked to help on occasion by holding bags while the kids kick and helping out in that respect. That has been flattering all on its own. This was something new.
New students at our dojo get three private lessons where basic blocks, punches, stances and self defense are taught. They are also introduced to general dojo reshiki (courtesies), the meaning behind bowing and the shinza, etc. So, the new student and I went to the downstairs training room and got to work. I really enjoyed it, and couldn’t believe how fast the time flew.
A couple weeks ago, one of my instructors gave some statistics. He said that you learn 10% of what you hear, 20% of what you see, and 90% of what you teach. I used to teach high school English and often had the students learn something and then teach it to the rest of their group, so I’m familiar with those percentages. When you’re teaching someone else basic wrist grab self defense, you have to really think about not only how to do it, but also how to explain it. Explaining it and demonstrating helps you to develop an even deeper understanding of it yourself.
When the lesson was over, the woman I worked with thanked me and said I had done a good job. I knew I was a capable English teacher, but I certainly didn’t know how that would translate into karate. Apparently, teaching skills are transferable between different subject matters. Good to know.
The new student had also done a good job. I certainly remember those first few weeks in karate class when EVERYTHING felt so awkward. The private lesson is nice for that very reason. You only have to feel silly in front of one person.
When class was over, my instructors asked me how it had gone and thanked me for helping out. I figure if they’re asking me to teach someone else, they must think I’m doing o.k.
It feels really nice to be able to help out after being welcomed into my new dojo so warmly; and it feels even better just being asked to help out by my new teachers. Apparently, they must be seeing something in me that "brown belt syndrome" isn’t letting me see in myself.
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