I think I’m learning Japanese. . .
Edited to add pronunciation for those who want to learn along with me-see below.
I just spent the last 15 minutes looking online for that song. Does anyone else know what I’m talking about? Back during the days of converse sneakers, and Cyndi Lauper-like hair, I could have sworn there was a song that repeated over and over again to some electronic music, "I think I’m learning Japanese. I think I’m learning Japanese; I really think so." Ringing a bell? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
(How funny is it that I finally found the song I was thinking of, and the lyrics are "I think I’m turning Japanese. . ." not "learning Japanese." Just another classic lyric mishap by yours truly. Anyway, I found it! Feel free to click play while you continue reading.)
I wanted to have a little music to go along with this post that tells you that Big I and I are learning Japanese. Last week, we had almost an entire class that was taught in Japanese. How cool is that?!? We did blocks and punches and learned the correct names for them as we did them. We spent much of the class doing moving drills and repeating "gedan barai" for downward block as we moved around the dojo (I’d tell you the names for the other blocks/punches but I can’t spell them to save my life). It was a lot of fun.
In addition to that, we have a Japanese woman coming to teach Japanese lessons to anyone in the dojo who is interested in learning. The lessons started today. Big I and I learned some basic greetings and pronunciation, and had a blast. Our Japanese teacher is named Chia (I’m fairly certain that is NOT how you spell her name, but that’s what it sounds like. Chia, as in "Chia Pet"). She does not, however, look like a chia pet. She’s a bubbly, pretty, extremely nice person and I think it’s going to be really cool to learn from her.
One of the instructors at our school has been learning from her for a while now. It’s quite obvious from the conversations the two of them have in Japanese that left Big I and I sort of staring in awe. During this particular instructors’ classes, we don’t start over at "ichi" (one) once we get up to ten. We continue counting correctly in Japanese as high as we need to go. It’s quite amazing to listen to the kids in the dojo who know how to count better than some of the adults (and by "some of the adults" I mean me). I’m working on it though.
I figured I would make Big I attend one class and then she could decide if she wanted to continue or not. She is SUPER into it! We spent the entire day talking to each other with the few words of Japanese we learned. Our brief conversations went something like this:
Me: Konichiwa (Hi) [koh nee chee wa-remember to emphasis the koh, not the nee as Americans will often do. . . and by Americans, I mean ME.)
Big I: Konichiwa
Me: Geski desu ka? (How are you?) [gehn kee dess ka]
Big I: Geski desu. (I am fine.) [gehn kee dess]
When I tucked Big I into bed tonight I told her "Kombanwa" (Good night) [kon bahn wa-that’s a long "o" in kon. I have no idea how to type that!] . I told her that we’ll say Ohayo Gozaismasu (Good Morning) [ohio go zai ee mahs] tomorrow morning. As I was leaving her room tonight, she said, "I’ll probably be the only kid in my school who can speak Japanese. Is that cool?" She was grinning ear to ear. I think it’s going to be a lot of fun.
Don’t worry though. I won’t start posting in Japanese or anything. . . at least not for a while. 😉
Sayonara [sa yo na ra]!
Impeccable Timing
Whenever Mr. BBM goes away, I should just lock myself in the house with the girls, not go anywhere or do anything. Drama always happens.
When Big I was a baby, Mr. BBM was away on a trip when we had a furnace fire in our apartment. I woke up to a very smoky apartment and thought the entire building was burning down. I managed to grab Big I and get out of there, but I could not get my cats. I used to watch the news and get so annoyed with people who abandoned their pets inside burning buildings. After going through that, I completely understand why. Those cats were terrified and instead of coming to me so I could get them out, they chose to lay on the floor, under my bed at the exact center. Even with my insanely long arms, I could not reach them, and knew I had to get Big I and myself out.
Luckily, the fire stayed in the furnace; but after the firemen were finished going through my apartment, it was a mess and my entire place smelled like smoke for at least a good two weeks. It took me hours to find my cats who had later buried themselves deep in my closet behind shoe boxes, as the firemen pretty much destroyed my apartment while looking for the fire by knocking down clothes in my closet, poking all the stuffed animals out of Big I’s toy hammock, etc. etc.
If you’ve been visiting this blog for a while, you know that I was also carjacked by a pit bull while Mr. BBM was away last year.
I thought, perhaps, we could escape the drama during this trip, but I was very wrong.
Big I had a half day today at school. I pulled into the parking lot to pick her up and immediately noticed two very suspicious men walking around the parking lot of waiting parents, trying to sell pillows and flash lights to them. Their car was loaded with stuff to sell.
We have a simple procedure for picking up our children. You enter on one side of the parking lot and pull all the way through. You exit out the other side after everyone has their kids in the cars. Their car was blocking traffic, and there was no way they could pull through to exit the parking lot. There were cars blocking him in, in every direction. I was parked behind and to the left of him. When another Mom pulled in behind him, I knew there was going to be a problem.
The guy, who quickly realized he was soliciting in the wrong area, approached the woman who had pulled in behind him and told her to back up. She told him that she couldn’t back up; he proceeded to get into his car and back up anyway. So, to avoid being hit, she backed up and ran her front left bumper right into the back right of my car. The damage is minimal; I just need a little paint, but I was upset.
I approached the guys and told them to stop trying to back up and that they were just going to have to wait to exit like everyone else. He gave me some attitude; I gave a little back and then decided to trust my gut. I walked back to my car and called the police. When I noticed an officer half a block away helping with traffic, I called for him and he came down to help.
While the woman and I were exchanging insurance information, he was talking to the guys. A few minutes later, the officer approached me and the other woman and told us that things were getting complicated. Apparently, one of the guys had a warrant out for his arrest.
The kids came out of school and were getting into cars and leaving. As the parents were driving out, police cars were surrounding the guys and their car. By the time I left, there were five officers. I backed out of the parking lot so as not to let those guys have another look at me, my car, or my kids. The other Mom did the same.
I talked to the officer this afternoon. The guys were selling their products without a permit from what he called a "semi-legitimate" warehouse, located over an hour away. The car’s registration was expired; they had no insurance and were driving without licenses. The car was impounded and they have been issued half a dozen traffic citations. They also have to find their own way back home. The officer I spoke with told me that he "knows where I can find a good contour pillow" if I need one. It’s good to know that our police officers have a good sense of humor.
I was relieved to hear that they weren’t wanted for anything major. I’m hoping my drama for this business trip is over.
On the flip side (as in an actual good thing), I made my "modeling debut" this week. I’m the alternate view for the KD Elite Heavyweight Gi on Karate Depot’s website. And just so we’re clear, I’m available for gi modeling only. Victoria’s Secret will have to look elsewhere (as if).
Have a good laugh about that little thought, and a great weekend!
The Terrible TWO
It is difficult to believe that I (once again) have a two-year old. She’s my baby and I can not believe how fast time has gone. Lil C has been giving us a preview of the terrible two’s for the past few weeks. The answer to just about everything is an adament "no." She has suddenly decided she will only eat yellow foods and only if she REALLY feels like it; and the kid can pull hair. Man, can she pull hair!
She also says, "Mommy, Love you too!" about twenty times a day; and she gives neck hugs resembling a rear naked choke that can completely cut off circulation to the brain. She’s the great pretender and often imagines she’s eating an ear of corn or that one of her favorite stuffed animals, George, is playing hide and seek with her. She’s learned so much over the past year (including how to count to ten in Japanese), O.k. and a couple curse words. No one’s perfect.
She’s now putting herself to sleep in her own room (I forgot to mention that we moved her out of our room a few weeks ago, finally. Yes, I have attachment issues and possibly facing this being the last baby issues, so leave me alone.) Unlike most kids who want to hear "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" or something along those lines, Lil C’s night time requests include the "pipate song" (pirate song).
The other night as I was singing "Yo ho, Yo ho, a pirate’s life for me. . . " she stopped me and said, "No Mommy, not dat pipate song. Beer song." We went to the Renaissance Faire a few weeks ago and went to the pirate show where they made the audience sing a chorus of "beer, beer, beer, beer; beer, beer, beer, beer." So, that’s her lullaby of choice now, a constant repetition of the word "beer" that puts her right to sleep. Apparently, it’s entirely possible to give birth to a little angel the first time around and sheer trouble the second time around.
Since her Daddy is once again on a business trip, we’re going to have a small dinner party tonight, complete with ice cream cake and the new wooden train set that she’s getting (because we have entirely too many princesses in this house).
If you’d like to read Lil C’s birth story, you can do so here. About 12 hours ago, two years ago, I was weathering contractions in the hallway and drooling on the floor during a particularly bad one. Don’t believe me? Go read.
Happy Birthday Lil C!
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