Vacation?
I did it, 30 days of straight posting. It wasn’t easy either. You know all those down days where I was whining about my knee? Yeah, normally I would have just kept the inner thoughts of BBM off the blog. But it was either whine about my knee or discuss the consistency of pasta on some of those days. I erred on the side of you enjoying whining over noodles.
When I started posting at the beginning of November for NaBloPoMo, I was positive I was going to have surgery for my knee. I was sure you would be reading groggy posts from a post surgery me; but that didn’t happen. A month later, I’m now pretty sure that I will actually be getting the surgery anyway. December might be the groggy post month instead. My PT is pretty sure it’s going to happen and from the way I feel, I’m pretty sure as well. Despite a month of working my legs as hard as I was able to, and building up muscle and endurance, the stability is just not there the way it needs to be.
I spent this past month airing out my grievances with my knee, expressing disappointment about potentially delaying my shodan test and training, and just trying to be positive despite the fact that the not knowing aspect has been torturing me. Here I am a month later, and I still don’t know where I’ll be this time next month.
One thing I do know? I’m taking the weekend off from writing. I’m also going to have a glass of wine tonight in celebration of completing NaBloPoMo. Please tell me that I win a prize and pretty please, let it be an XJ8. . .
What?
They’re not giving away any XJ8’s??? Can someone please tell me why I agreed to do this???
***Speaking of prizes, you too can win a prize next week at The BBM Review. If you’d like to try to win a new toy for your toddler, just in time for the holidays, check back for the toy review next week. Leave a comment on the post, and you’ll be automatically entered to win! How easy is that? You don’t even have to post 30 days in a row or ANYTHING!?!
To Become Her for Just One Day
My daughter came home from school today with a mark on her leg from where another child had kicked her. Through sweatpants, there was a little brush burn on her shin. I asked her what happened and she said that she walked up to this little girl, said "hi" and the girl kicked her. Big I asked the girl why she kicked her and the girl wouldn’t answer. She then proceeded to chase her around the playground, trying to kick her again.
(Deep breath.)
(One more.)
(Deep breath.)
She told her teacher and the teacher told her to go and try to work it out with the little punter. She didn’t get it worked out. I have let things go throughout the year and a half that Big I has been in school. I didn’t call when the group of brats was laughing at her last year. I didn’t call when this same little girl was stealing her snack and her crayons daily. I told her how to handle it and let her handle it herself. She always seemed willing to fight her own battles when it came to the previous incidents.
However, when another child leaves a mark on my kid???? Oh NO she DIDN’T!
I immediately called the school and asked to speak to the teacher. I told her what happened and that I was upset about it. I was livid and I think she knew it. She went to talk to the kicker who was still at school and called me back.
Meanwhile, this is me to Big I: "The next time that kid even looks like she’s going to touch you, you tell her that if she kicks you, then you are going to kick her back. And when you kick her, you drop her, Big I. And if you get in trouble at school, know that Mommy will go in there and raise hell because you have a right to defend yourself, and . . . "
So the phone rings. The punter has to sit inside for four recesses. She’s also going to see the principal tomorrow, and she’s going to apologize. Apparently the whole incident had nothing to do with Big I. The girl was frustrated with someone else so she took it out on an easy target.
I am tired of my kid being the easy target for everyone, just because she’s nice. Even the teacher said it’s because Big I is a "kind and gentle soul."
Fast forward a few hours to Big I’s karate class. I talked to her teacher (also a dad of several little ones) and told him what happened. They then spent much of the class working on playground situations, speaking up, yelling "KNOCK IT OFF" or "STOP IT" as loud and as mean as they could. They worked on using some aggression by pushing someone’s hands away or pushing someone back and yelling at the same time.
Big I started out smiling and tentatively saying "stop it." By the end of the class, she was yelling and only popping an occasional smirk. I’m going to have Mr. BBM work on some things with Big I, and have her role play some situations. She has to understand that she DOES NOT have to be nice to someone who’s not nice to her. It was great that karate class tonight reinforced sticking-up-for-yourself behavior. Now we just have to work on pulling out her inner warrior.
In the meantime, I really need to figure out some way that I could embody Big I for just one day. . .
Just one day is all I would need. . .
Three More Days
In the beginning, there were ideas, the prospect of blogging through a martial arts related book, the intent to make every post one worth reading like the Bullies post which is filling my inbox with all kinds of compliments (thank you). NaBloPoMo is seriously kicking my butt right about now. That’s why my little present in the mail couldn’t have come at a better time. A blog post filled with happy little images as opposed to more words. WOO HOO! Becky is sort of like my relief squadron, flying in with relief and support for tired, very in need of a break, troops, or in this case "troop" as in me.
A-hem. Sorry, got a little excited there. Without further words delay. . .
Hmm, I wonder who could have inspired this design?
She looks sort of familiar, doesn’t she? Here’s another one of my surprises. . .
And finally a little holiday spirit, which Big I has decided are hers and only hers. . .
These kicking designs and others like them can be found at the Martial Arts Pagoda store where my friend Becky designs her butt off. She also designed The BBM Review logo, and a certain "business" card for yours truly:
And this card for The BBM Review (my real name is on it and NO, you can’t see it-it’s been blocked out for display here):
Is she awesome or what? Thank you BECKY!
Now there are NONE!
Today I went to physical therapy, and it was so crowded. After about 10 minutes of heat and stims, the nurse came over and reminded me that my next appointment is on Friday. I thought it was sort of odd that she was telling me this since I already scheduled it and I know. I nodded, sort of puzzled, and she went on to say, "You know, you’re not supposed to be here today. Your appointment was actually tomorrow."
I have absolutely no clue what day it is ever. Thankfully they were able to fit me in and my PT was super nice about it, saying that he was going to have a busy afternoon, but that tomorrow he’d be happy about it when he had one less patient at the end of the day.
I did all the usual exercises, added a new one in as well, got to use some tension on the bike today and bumped my time up to 12 minutes. He told me to really go for it, so I cycled as fast as I could. I broke a sweat and it felt great. I walked to the leg press machine without my crutch and asked him when I could ditch it. "You can ditch it as soon as you feel ready" he said.
Physically, I’m there. I added another 5 lbs. onto the leg press machine, completed three sets of leg curls and decided I’m done with the crutch. I’m the most stable I’ve been since the injury happened. I’m not twisting, pivoting or turning with weight on it. I’m sort of robotic as I walk in straight lines but it’s so much better than walking with crutches.
After PT, I stopped at a mini-mart. The guy who held the door for me looked at me a little strangely as I very slowly walked through the door; but I did it on my own without a crutch. For the first time in nearly five weeks, I am crutch free and despite the slow pace at which I’m moving, I am so deliriously happy to be without them. I have two more physical therapy appointments before I see the surgeon again. I feel far from perfect; but there is no doubt that I’m improving. Ten days until decision time.
***The latest review is up at The BBM Review. Make sure you check it out. Also, if you have a child around the age of two and up, there’s going to be an exciting prize give-away sometime next week. All you’ll have to do is leave a comment on the post about an exciting new toy for your chance to win. Tell your friends to check back for the toy review so they don’t miss their chance to win a cool new toy just in time for the holidays!
Bullies
When I was in junior high, I was coming through a crowded area after lunch when I felt a hard punch square in the middle of my back. It was too crowded to move as we all pushed through the door; but I didn’t have to take more than a brief glance to know exactly who had done it. "Gina" followed me down the hall with her posse of fight starters and mumbled comments under her breath at me.
I was terrified.
I was in 8th grade. She was in 7th and I was probably about 12 inches taller than her. But I was still scared. She ran with a rough gang, and she was always in the office getting in trouble, often for fighting. I, on the other hand, was the good kid. The only time I ever had to visit the principal was for student council issues. I was a fairly likeable kid, which made that hard punch on my back even more puzzling and upsetting to me.
"Gina" had her henchmen get messages to me that she was going to beat me up, at lunch, after lunch, at the next school dance, after school, before school, when I was at my locker. For two years, I made sure I was never alone. I spent two years being terrified of her, despite the fact that she never got close enough to lay another finger on me. It wasn’t just at school either. I was also afraid I’d see her at the mall on the weekend and that she’d take care of her unfinished business there.
I casually mentioned something to my parents once about "Gina." My parents left me handle it and never called the school. Thinking back, I wish my dad would have taught me how to punch. He was the underdog kid when he was in school until the day he beat up the bully who picked on everyone else. It was a similar situation, but I didn’t want to fight. Knowing how to though, would have been a nice back-up and a bit more reassuring than just avoiding "Gina" in the halls.
When I moved up to 10th grade, the sense of relief I felt was remarkable. I was a new person. After feeling like I was under duress for all those years, I was finally free from "Gina" and her doom crew. I enjoyed that year like I hadn’t previously enjoyed another. For that reason, the year flew. I never once ran into "Gina" at school functions or off campus and for that I was both thankful and relieved.
On the first day of 11th grade, I was nervous. "Gina" would be coming up to the high school, and I was dreading it. I thought about it all summer long. The high school was huge and combined two junior highs, so it was possible to go quite some time without running into someone. I knew it was going to happen eventually.
It was about four weeks into the school year when it finally did. My friend and I were leaving English class and heading down the hall. There she was, coming at me and scowling. She had an awful look on her face and I knew she meant business. The thing I had going in my favor was that my friend and I had continued to grow; she hadn’t.
I don’t remember that we had some grand meeting or plan for when we saw her, but we must have had a mental agreement between the two of us. Jen and I made a conscious decision that "Gina" wasn’t going to divide us, intimidate us, or cause either of us any more stress. As she walked faster in our direction, we picked up the pace in her direction. As she got within feet of us she slowed down for a confrontation; but my friend and I weren’t having any of that.
Shoulder to shoulder, Jen and I continued to walk as fast as we could right into "Gina." We knocked her over onto the floor, and she went skidding on her butt. She wasn’t hurt, but she definitely knew that the tables had turned. We didn’t say a word to her, just kept on walking, and she never bothered either one of us again. She never even make eye contact again, and I was able to rest easy. It was finally over after almost four years of feeling terrorized.
During those horrible years, it wasn’t so much the physical threat that bothered me. I could have handled being beaten up, I’m sure. What was so awful was the mental aspect. "Gina" terrorized me and made school unpleasant when it had been just fine before. She deflated me and took the fun out of my days and extracurricular activities. I thought about her often and wondered what I ever did to make her hate me so much. I had never even talked to her. She wasn’t in my grade or involved in any of the activities I was involved in, so why did she hate me so much? That was the part that bothered me the most.
People, in general, want people to like them. It’s hurtful when someone doesn’t, especially when you know you haven’t done anything to deserve it. When I think back about that incident now, I so wish I knew then what I know now. If I hadn’t acted so afraid of her, I wouldn’t have made such a nice target for her. If I had confronted her after she hit me, it might have boiled down into a fight; but it also might have stopped right there. If I had shown her that I wasn’t afraid of her, she might have backed off. If my dad had taught me how to throw a good punch, that would have helped as well. I would have felt prepared and that would have taken away a lot of the fear.
When Big I complained about being picked on by a couple little girls last year, I took her complaints very seriously. It wasn’t anything major, just some laughing at her and excluding her; but I know that it doesn’t take much. I assured her that it was o.k. for her to speak up for herself, to tell them to knock it off, and that if push came to shove (literally) I wanted her to know that I supported her defending herself. (She did actually use a wrist escape on the bus one day.) I didn’t want her feeling intimidated the way that I had, and I don’t believe she did. She never complained about going to school and those little bullies seemed to be more of a minor annoyance than anything else. They certainly weren’t the center of her school experience the way "Gina" was to mine.
Big I and I are a lot alike. We’re both very sensitive and want people to like us. She’s so much like me that it makes me nervous sometimes. I don’t want her to be so sensitive and so worried about what everyone else thinks.
But there’s one major difference between us. I started karate when I was 29. Big I started at age three. There are plenty out there who joke about children in the martial arts not being able to defend themselves, that it’s a money making venture only. That’s not at all true of our experience and our dojo.
While the martial arts at a young age may not be able to teach a child how to take out a 6’4" attacker, karate offers an amazing self-confidence to children. If I had been in Big I’s shoes, I would have tried to stay home from school. I would have stressed about those little girls. I know, because I did the exact same thing in junior high school. Big I did none of those things. Through that experience, I saw that she has great self-esteem, and I definitely know she wouldn’t have a problem defending herself against another child.
To be able to spare her the emotional trauma that I went through myself with "Gina" is one of the best gifts I could ever give my child. I often talk about how the martial arts has impacted my life and why I love it so much; but there is nothing that thrills me more about the martial arts than what it has done for Big I.
Copyright
© Copyright 2006-2019 blackbeltmama dot com ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Follow Me
Blog Designed By
My Creations
Things You Could Care Less About
