Make Me Invisible Before My 3-year old Gets Us Both Killed
I don't remember Big I ever having embarrassed me the way that Lil C does on a near daily basis. It's getting to the point where public outings are a big risk. I recall one time when Big I said something that made me want to disappear instantly. She commented about a very heavy woman and asked me why she was so fat? I gave her a look and later we discussed that it's not polite to say things like that. That was the very last time she said anything.
Lil C frequently calls people out. One time we were at the hair salon and Big I was getting her hair cut. An older man was putting his coat on by the door and about to leave. He had obviously just had his hair cut. He was smiling at her and saying "hi" when she turned to me and said, "That man has funny hair. Why is his hair so funny mommy?" Needless to say, he went out the door quickly and I was never so happy to see someone leave.
I told Lil C that it's not nice to say things like that and that it can hurt people's feelings. Her comment back to me? "Well his hair was funny though!" almost like "Well, with silly hair like that you're asking for it."
A couple weeks ago, in a clothing store, Lil C told me to "Yook at that yittle old yady. Yook at her Mommy. She's a yittle old yady." She would not stop! I wanted to run out of the store. The lady was indeed old and little, but she wasn't taking too kindly to being called "yittle" and "old." Thank goodness looks don't kill.
Yesterday, we went to the grocery store. The first incident occurred back by the deli. An older woman was looking at the cheeses and Lil C yelled out loudly to her, "What are YOU DOING YADY?" (In case you haven't figured it out yet, "L's are in fact "Y's" in Lil C's world. The woman swung around quickly and I apologized with a "Sorry, she's three." The woman laughed and told me about her grandchildren while Lil C smiled devilishly at her.
The next encounter didn't go quite as smoothly.
Lil C was helping me load the groceries onto the checkout belt when a man pulled into the checkout lane behind us. He was an older black man and he had dreadlocks that just passed his shoulders. He also had a bit of a beard. Always looking for interaction ways to embarrass me, Lil C noticed there was someone behind us so she turned around to see who was there.
Sensing there was definitely going to be some commentary, I tried to get her attention back to the front, but it wasn't happening. She stared at him for a little while and then asked him, in a crystal clear voice, "Are you a girl or a boy?" I wanted to die, right then and there.
I didn't allow him to answer. "Lil C, that is a boy. Sometimes boys have longer hair and that's perfectly ok. Ethan's daddy has long hair. . . " I grasped to find the names of men who have long hair. "Mr. Matt has hair that's a little longer. . . " She stared at me with an irritated look. She had obviously wanted the dread-locked man to answer her question. She finished listening to me and turned back around at the man who was temporarily smiling a bit to himself and said, "Well he looks like a girl with that yong hair." Needless to say, the man stopped smiling and I wanted to disappear on the spot.
In many ways, Lil C reminds me of my grandmother. My grandmother is the type of gal who puts it all out there. She is 92 years old and she's never been afraid of speaking her mind. Once, when I was younger, we were walking into the mall and there was a girl walking in front of us whose butt was hanging out of her jeans (from rips-not the style,as is now). My grandmother pointed at her and exclaimed, "Well, look at that! Her entire a$$ is hanging out of her jeans! Look at that! What is WRONG with her?"
I remember my Mom being horrified, but I actually thought it was kind of funny at the time. I thought there was something seriously wrong with her too. Lil C definitely has a streak of my grandmother in her, which is probably why she cracks my grandmother up so very easily.
The next time I go to the grocery store, I think I'm going to bring some of those chewy granola bars along to shove in her mouth whenever necessary. And if someone could tell me where to buy an internal filter for a 3-year old, I would really appreciate it.
Drum roll please. . .
In an uber-scientic drawing, each comment from Admired Martial Artists week was numbered. I then yelled across the room the number range and asked Mr. BBM to choose a number without him being able to see the list. The winners of the Admired Martial Artists month's prizes are as follows:
The Discipline Training Martial Arts shoes from Martial Arts Supplies go to. . . John Vesia of Martial Views.
The year long subscription to the awesome quarterly newsletter from Kyoshi Hayes goes to. . . Eric Mest.
The nunchaku or tekkos carrying case from Bags of Character goes to. . . Mike Sherman.
The Vital Points striking book from Turtle Press goes to. . . Hackshaft.
Thank you to all commenters during Admired Martial Artists month! I look forward to seeing you back here next year, but hope you'll stick around throughout the rest of the year too. A big thanks goes out to the companies and individuals who have volunteered to supply a prize too!
If you're a winner, please contact me at black-belt-mama at hotmail dot com with your mailing address, shoe size (John), and color preference (Mike). Congratulations to all the winners!!!
Hanging with the Boys
Lately, at the dojo, I have frequently been the only girl in class. There are definitely more men than women at my dojo. When you break it out and look exclusively at brown belt and above, there are even more men than women. I grew up a tomboy and my best friend in high school was a guy, so this has never bothered me. I seem to get along better with guys overall. From a martial arts perspective though, I began thinking about whether or not the guys take it a little easier on me.
Last night, we were paired up and spent the entire night trying to wail on each other with bat-sized sticks. Whenever we do these drills, we ease into them gradually. We start by working out distancing. Our partner starts swinging at us when we're just a hair out of reach. Then we add movement, first small movement, then big movements. Finally, we add some evasive maneuvers and techniques to combat someone wielding a club or bat at us. By the end of the night, it's usually a sparring type situation that can get pretty intense.
I was partnered with a brown belt guy, who I believe has a black belt in another style (a heavily into kicking style). I like working with this guy; we seem to work well together. The drills went fine, and then it was time for the free-for-all stick swinging. He was taking aim at me and my first movement brought some serious pain with it for my knee. The quick movements, twisting, pivoting and off-angle stuff still freak me out and cause me some trouble. Yet almost every week, I've been taken out of my comfort zone for drills that start harmless enough, but end with me being a nervous wreck. I simply haven't figured out how to adjust to my knee situation. My previous stances are uncomfortable so I've been forced to find new ways to stand. Something as simple as which foot to put in front is now troubling and feels uncomfortable.
It's really difficult to think about the stick swinging at your head when you're more worried about your knee and messing it up again. After the initial tweak however, I was able to make it through the drill. I got hit a couple times (thank God we had switched over to plastic), and I mostly felt like a total idiot. Being a teacher and having previously done a lot of public speaking, you'd think I could handle a little audience, but the four guys standing on the side were freaking me out too. They're all good, and I feel like I'm not, so it can be intimidating.
Later, I watched the guys switch it up and continue going at it. When my partner was out there with someone else, it was intense. He was throwing in some good kicks and techniques and I was really impressed. I also got the feeling that he had been taking it easy on me.
This, for a girl, is good and bad. It's good because I am smaller than these guys. Even though I'm of similar height to most of them, I am definitely a light weight. I don't fit the typical body type of a female karate-ka, at least not most of the ones I've seen and been around. Despite months of busting my butt at the gym, there's nothing you can really do when your genes say you'll be a 5'9", 135 lb string bean. I've built muscle, but it's still on my spaghetti frame. So, for that reason, I guess being treated a little differently is good.
I also think the guys are cautious around me because of my knee. They know I'm terrified of being injured again, and so they approach drills with me with kid gloves on. I get that, and I do appreciate it. But I guess there's a part of me that wishes it was otherwise. When I watch the guys out there, throwing each other around, and getting intense, I'm a bit jealous.
That's never going to be me. I'm not the girl who will be fondly recalled years from now as "the scrapper." I doubt there will be any legends told about me and my skills twenty years from now. I'm feeling more and more like I'm the blend-into-the-background type of girl in the dojo and I'm not sure how I feel about that.
People comfort themselves by saying that there's a reason for everything and that things happen for a reason. I, for one, would like to know the reason for some of these things. Like the ACL injury, for example. What was the purpose of that? Was it to make me quit karate? Was it to make me appreciate it more? Was it a giant smack-down from someone above telling me I'm out of my league? I know it's made me into a person who enjoys going to the gym and working out, but how does that fit in with karate and how things go at the dojo? Right now, I'm not seeing how the working out has benefited my karate. Will it make me a better martial artist in the long run? Will it harm my progress because I'm afraid (rightfully so), and because others are afraid to hurt me?
I don't want to go to the dojo and get a beat-down each week (I seriously can not sustain another injury), but at the same time, my purpose for being at the dojo is primarily self-defense. If the guys are taking it easy on me, then isn't this doing me harm in the long-run? Am I now seen as the delicate flower of the dojo? If that's the case, I'm not happy about it.
Last night I got home and iced my knee for a while. Then I had Mr. BBM come swinging at me and I tried to take him down using one of the techniques we worked last night. Without him knowing what I was going to do, and without him taking a dive for me, I simply couldn't make it work. Granted, he is bigger than the guys I usually work with, but it's still frustrating when something that had worked only hours ago, now doesn't.
As martial artists, we need compliant partners until we've learned the proper technique and control, but are my partners being too easy on me when it comes to helping me make techniques work? Is it because I'm a girl? Is it because of the ACL injury? Am I doing the same thing to them? Unfortunately, I don't think there are any easy answers to these questions.
There's a new place for ACL bloggers to hang out. Go here and click "join."
The winners will be announced tomorrow for the AMA month prizes!
A Family of Superhero’s
On Friday, Mr. BBM and I packed up the car and headed to western PA for Easter weekend. Instead of taking the vehicle equipped with a DVD player and headphones for the girls, we took our Subaru Forester for her very last long ride. We traded her in for a new car on Saturday morning.
Mr. BBM spent days convincing me the drive out and back, without a DVD player, would be "fun." I wasn't buying it and as usual, I was right, as usual-wait, did I say that already? Oh yeah, I did; but it warrants being said again. As usual, I was right.
The drive out consisted of Mr. BBM being ready to self-combust at any moment if the girls even tilted their drink or snack even slightly off a perfectly upright angle. He did this despite the beach towels he had put on the seats for the drive out. Big I decided it was a great opportunity to ask us all kinds of questions, like "Would you rather have ears where your eyebrows are, or a nose where your belly button is?" I should also note that each question was proceeded by a startling, "Daddy" or "Mommy." We swear she used those two words about 2000 times each direction of the four hour drive. She also used "Are we there yet?" enough times to make me volunteer to ride on the roof rack.
We won't even discuss Lil C and her non-stop whining. We just won't because I'd rather not have my head explode all over my lap-top.
We arrived at my father-in-law's home, knowing that they were in the middle of a big kitchen renovation, but people. . . we had no idea. The kitchen contents were in boxes in the family room. The kitchen cabinets were. . . gone. . . completely. Dishes were done in the laundry room sink and clean dishes could only be found on a table in the dining room. I stress "clean" only when the drywall man hadn't been there. Clearly, he does not believe in sealing off areas before sanding.
For cooking, there was a microwave.
You were waiting for a crock pot or electric skillet too, weren't you? Nope, not a one. At some point, Mr. BBM must have threatened to kill someone or himself because a coffee pot was eventually found and plugged in. Because of the state of the kitchen, we had to eat out for every meal, minus breakfast each day, which was microwaved oatmeal (and minus today's fantastic Easter dinner, cooked by my mother-in-law.)
Despite the stress of all of this, we had a great time. My father-in-law recently remarried a lovely lady and two of her adult children were also visiting. It became quite clear that there was some good-natured sibling rivalry between Mr. BBM's new step-sister and her younger brother who even refers to himself as "the glow." "The glow" can do no wrong; food even tastes better when you're in the presence of "the glow." It's really quite an appropriate nickname considering that it was only minutes before Big I was proclaiming her undying love for him. I had to kindly remind her that he's now her uncle, and you know, sort of too old for her. Plus, eight-year olds need to chill on "being in love." Seriously, although I must admit that "the glow" does have a stellar smile. Geez, even from hundreds of miles away, he's still having an effect on me.
What became even funnier than "the glow" and the antics surrounding him was Mr. BBM's stepmother and her patented "look." While we were busy answering Big I's never-ending list of questions on the drive out, my father-in-law was busy talking to his wife's kids about her classic "look" of death. Together they decided that a picture of this "look" should be painted on missiles that wouldn't have to even explode to scare our country's enemies. Seeing "the look" would be enough. They also decided that the problem with illegal immigration could be solved. Simply put "the look" on strategically placed billboards at our borders.
Having never been the recipient of "the look" (I'd only ever seen it from the side until this weekend), I could laugh but not know for sure. However, after my step mother-in-law saw the new mess in her kitchen after drywall sanding while we had been out, and the fact that my father-in-law had used their Dyson and not a shop vacuum to clean it up, I found myself standing between the two of them and caught "the look" straight on. All I really have to say about that is . . . "teach me, oh great giver of 'the look'."
When the weekend was coming to a close and all was said and done, I realized that I'm now part of a family of superhero's. "The glow" charms everyone around him; while "the look" can instantly make you regret ever having been born.
Despite getting a fabulous deal on the new car without them, I can't help but wonder what kinds of amazing things they could have done for us during negotiations, had they been there. After being warmed up by "the glow" and then subjected to "the look," it's entirely possible we would have been given our new car for free.
Pain That Makes You Work Harder
Tonight at the dojo reminded me why I love karate so much.
I've spent the last few weeks at the dojo trying to get kata back into my head. Of course, there was the occasional night where I had a bo coming at me full force, but most nights have revolved around kata, either open hand or weapons, and my brain trying to reabsorb and perfect it all.
Tonight, however, it was all partner work; and it was awesome. Hanshi had us take each scenario from a casual stance to mimic what might happen if someone approached you and started swinging when you weren't quite expecting it. We worked on parrying, back-fists, some crazy cool joint locks and jamming the bicep when you have an incoming round-house punch.
I was working with a black belt partner who I haven't worked with in a while, and we had a good time practicing on each other and exploring some potential other possibilities. It felt good to evade a punch and throw back some techniques. There's nothing more satisfying than seeing how a small portion of kata can turn into the perfect defense against someone looking to take your head off.
There were certainly some mess-ups on my part tonight. Learning something new is never perfect, but my partner and I worked through it and it was definitely a fun night at the dojo.
At one point, Hanshi came over and demonstrated one of the techniques on me. It reminded me, once again, how very good he is at what he does. For minutes after, my bicep was unhappy, as was the rest of my arm. He uses such amazing control, but when he hits you, man, do you know it! I never mind being his uke though; because when you feel that tweak of pain, it inspires you to work harder yourself.
Winners for Admired Martial Artists Month will be announced early next week!
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