Official Observer (But Not for Long)
This past weekend was the summer annual IKKF training camp. Last year, I got exactly one session in before landing on my head and being declared unable to go on by an urgent care physician. Whiplash was the diagnosis. This year, I managed to remain injury free, probably because I was relegated to the sidelines, acting instead as an observer/camp photographer at the request of the head of the organization and dojo. Because of the photographer role, I spent the weekend being the recipient of some serious scowling. Surprising, because what person doesn’t want to be photographed after sweating for six hours straight, two days in a row?
If there’s one thing this weekend taught me though, is that things happen for a reason.
I’ve attended three previous training camps. I would be lying if I told you I didn’t feel completely awkward and out of place at each and every one of them. The high ranking individuals all know each other well after training together for decades. Being there as a green or brown belt certainly gets you points for trying; but there is nothing like being in a room full of black belts to give you a major dose of "I seriously suck" reality.
I felt completely intimidated, unworthy and pathetic when I went to other training camps. Despite my role on the sidelines this time, I felt completely different. When you’re there on injured reserve, you get to quietly observe from the sidelines, but you also get to interact with high ranking individuals who have much to teach you even from the sidelines. I had some wonderful conversations with people I was previously too intimidated by to do more than smile, nod and run.
I learned that despite their high ranks, they’re normal people, fun people with much to offer someone trying to learn the art (and psych herself back up to get back at it again). I received much encouragement from people who have gone the ACL route before me. I learned a lot just by watching and being in the environment with so many interesting people.
Perhaps most importantly though, is that I now feel so much more comfortable around these people. Before they were the Renshi-Kai (and the other high ranking individuals from different styles like Kyoshi Hayes who come to our camps), the people who decided if you’d get your black belt or not. They were the ones who sit in the front when you test, with serious expressions and a clipboard, later deciding if all your hard work has paid off or not.
Now, I know that they are interesting and knowledgeable people who have much to offer. . . if only you’ll stick around for longer than a nervous smile before running away.
Before I tore my ACL, I was preparing for Shodan testing. I was feeling more and more confident about my kata and bunkai. I was gaining confidence overall. I wonder now if this injury happened when it did, only months before I was hoping to test, so that I’d have this time to get mentally ready and to interact with the people who previously would have made my knees shake. The biggest obstacle to getting that Shodan right now is me and the confidence (or lack thereof) that I have with regards to my knee.
On Saturday night at our annual banquet, I watched two individuals receive awards for fighting through the toughest of times. One is from our dojo, a new green belt who has barely missed a class despite going through abdominal surgery and subsequent chemotherapy. The other, a newly promoted 4th degree black belt who was amazing at his testing the previous night. You would never know it, but he has fought cancer and beat it four times. Both of these men have the attitude of champions, and it was emotionally overwhelming to watch them receive their awards. It was also inspiring.
I realized this weekend that it is important for me to get back to karate. This weekend ignited the fire I needed to get me back in the dojo. I really want this now. I’m going to work hard this month to build more strength in my leg in preparation for a fall return. This time, it’s not just a desire. I came home from camp yesterday and rode my bike for a while, even taking some gradual hills to help work on my leg strength. Today, my knee feels good despite the workout.
This is the beginning of my return. I am coming back.
Accidents Happen
Filed under: Building the BBM House, Mental Strain for Mama
Tonight, while I was outside with Big I and my Mom, Lil C apparently asked my Dad (her beloved Pop-Pop) to take her to the bathroom. As I entered the house, I heard this:
"BBM, there’s been an accident" my dad sad.
"What do you mean Dad?" I asked as I cautiously approached the bathroom.
"Well, Lil C peed in her diaper. . .
and on the floor. . .
and on my arm. . . "
When I arrived in the bathroom, I saw a bewildered and naked from the waist down Lil C and an even more bewildered Pop-Pop.
"I thought that girls peed down" my dad said with obvious confusion.
"Well Dad, that’s going to depend on the angle at which they’re sitting on the toilet seat."
My Dad thought he was all that and then some, telling me what was up when I was in geometry class; but apparently the angle of a miniature heiney on a toilet is not his forte.
Speaking of misjudging things, it’s apparently in the genes. Last night, I took the girls over to check on the progress of the house. This week they added two support beams and pushed the dirt in around the foundation in the back of the home. The two homes that are being built down the street have their first floors and most of their first floor walls already. I’m guessing that’s in the very near future for us.
While getting one of several shots of the progress, I misjudged the condition of the dirt and ended up sinking several inches into what felt like quick sand. Standing still only made me sink in more; walking quickly only served to make me more unstable. Did I mention I was holding Lil C on one hip? By the time I made it out, my feet had taken a major mud bath and if not for my next-door neighbors to be and their hose, I would have had a very messy car. The mess was worth it though.
Life on Decaf
Miserable doesn’t even begin to describe how my mood has been this week. Since we’ve moved in with my parents, I’ve had a headache from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed. Mr. BBM said it was stress. My Mom said it was allergies because of our new location living in the woods. I figured it was exhaustion and dehydration because check and check. I feel like I’m suffering from both of them.
Today I found out the real reason.
Earlier in the week, I asked my Mom if her coffee was regular or decaf. She told me it was regular. If I miss my cup of coffee, I get a horrendous headache. I had kicked the caffeine habit during both pregnancies and for as long as I nursed both of these girls. But when you have two little ones and you need some go power, you grovel back to the coffee and the caffeine. It’s what needs to be done.
This morning as I was preparing a small pot of coffee, I read the label on my Mom’s coffee:
"Dunkin’ Decaf."
"Dunkin’ Decaf!!!!" I cried out! I immediately went downstairs to the little refrigerator that houses all of our things we couldn’t fit in the big one to retrieve my very caffeinated coffee, and dumped a healthy heaping tablespoon into the coffee maker.
My mood is drastically improving. I may actually have the energy and feel well enough to find my socks today.
It’s Done
My fingers hurt. My toes hurt. My back kills. I’m exhausted and grumpy; but the move is finally done.
We started bright and early on Saturday morning and we weren’t at my parent’s house until after 10 p.m. Yesterday, Mr. BBM and I took the girls back to the house to get the last minute stuff and clean the house. We were there for almost the entire day. The last minute stuff pretty much filled up the truck (yet again) and it was miserable. The girls were upset and unhappy at seeing their vacant rooms. I was overwhelmed with stuff; and we had to load everything in between two nasty storms. We had to drive through one of them with hail, crazy winds and thunder that even made me scream.
We are now officially living with my parents and trying not to step on any toes will be a full time job. I have two little girls who think that Mom-Mom and Pop-Pop are their personal play toys 24/7. I have three rooms to unpack and organize, and absolutely no energy. Two cups of coffee couldn’t even cure my lack of energy today.
I think I need to hibernate for about a week.
I’d like to thank Renovation Girl who helped me pack and prepare. Without her, I can’t even imagine how awful it would have been. I’d also like to thank Eric and Matt, who arrived just when Mr. BBM and my Dad were really getting tired, after putting in a full day at the dojo work day. Without your help, I don’t know what we would have done. I’d also like to thank my Dad (who doesn’t even read this blog, but oh well) for working non-stop and carrying things he really shouldn’t have been carrying. Then there’s my sister and her boyfriend, who took two loads in their truck and also came back to rescue my cats from moving insanity to take them to their temporary housing for a few months. There’s also "Fancy" who helped me pack up the last few things, offered hugs when I felt like I was going to break down and cry or kill someone or both, and spent one of her precious days off helping out a friend. I also can’t forget to mention my lovely neighbors "K" and "S" who supplied me with a shot glass full of wine when I had a little break. I so needed that. Nothing would have been accomplished if not for my Mom who volunteered to keep the girls the night before the move and the entire moving day. Clearly, you’re all owed big time.
Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. If I could lift my arms, I’d give you all a giant hug.
Last Night
It’s my last night in our home of almost five years.
The closets are empty (Thanks to Renovation Girl who followed me around the house forcing me to pack, pack, pack 24/7). What’s left is the mess that will go in "misc" boxes and the furniture which will go to the storage unit tomorrow. The girls are already settled in at my parent’s house, complete with all of their clothes and their beds. Lil C was a very unhappy girl until she saw her bed all set up in Mom-Mom’s house. She asked me lots of questions and seemed to be more at ease when I kissed her good night and headed back home to finish the last minute packing.
While leaving this wonderful house is sad, I know that we’ve made the right choice. Clearly, we’ve grown out of our current home and it’s time to move on. That doesn’t mean there won’t be tears. I brought Lil C home for the first time in this house; and Big I was only two when we moved in here. We’ve made some excellent friends in the neighborhood; and I’ll miss stopping over for a glass of wine and a chat. Moving out now, when our new house consists only of basement walls, is difficult. Squeezing all of our stuff into two closets and a bathroom we’ll all have to all share for a few months is also going to be difficult.
I know it will all be worth it.
Right now, all I know is that I need a shower and some ibuprofen for my aching back.
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