What’s with the feet?
I don’t like feet. I mean, they’re all fine and good for getting around on and stuff. They certainly make a nice weapon against a potential attacker when connected to a good kick; but overall, they’re pretty gross. You won’t find me ever giving anyone a foot rub. I don’t expect anyone to do the same for me either (O.k. I’m not counting when I was pregnant-what rational person can blame me?). My husband has the nicest, softest feet I’ve ever seen on any man, yet if he moves those puppies anywhere near me, I’m telling him to move them and NOW. Unless the feet are attached to a baby, they can keep their distance.
A couple night ago, I was checking my visitor stats on this blog. I kept noticing that one particular search was landing one determined person on my site over and over again. This particular person used the exact same search terms and continued to go to one particular post of mine for a good hour and a half. The google search that was bringing this person to my site. . .
"yummy feet."
That search was taking this particular person to the image found in this post, the one where I wrote about my misadventures with a self tanner. Go and take a quick look if you don’t recall. I think most will tend to agree with me that the picture featured in that post most certainly does not show "yummy feet." Seriously, not even close. The most disturbing thing is that this person was doing a google image search, which means he knew exactly what he was getting into when he clicked on that picture of my very discolored feet. I’m thinking someone needs some help.
It’s moments like this that I realize that the internet is not made up of mostly normal people like me, and like those of you reading this right now (most of you anyway). There are truly some weird people out there.
Take for example, the friends requests I get on a daily basis on another particular site from men who seem perfectly normal when they make their initial request. However, one visit to their site reveals a guy with a weird obsession with women’s feet, pictures of womens feet, and even poetry about feet. Needless to say, those friends requests are denied. Frequently. Those feet people are determined people, let me just tell you. I guess I just don’t get why someone would choose feet as their favorite part when there are so many other more appealing parts to choose from. I didn’t realize that being a martial artist would put me out there for all the foot weirdo’s.
To be perfectly honest, I’ll take searches for "mature woman karate" over "yummy feet" anyday. Considering the alternative, "mature" just doesn’t seem that bad.
What’s the strangest search that has landed people on your site?
*I will be launching a new blog soon called "BBM Thinks. . . ". This blog will be home to reviews of all different kinds of books, products, etc. Because I am completely clueless in the design department, I thought I might open it up to my fabulous readers. If you can create an interesting header for the blog, you will receive design credit on the site with a link back to your site and/or email, and possibly searches for "yummy feet" that land on your site (O.k. I’m just kidding about that last part). Interested? Shoot me an email or leave me a comment letting me know.
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!
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.
No No NOO-NOO!
I very well may lose your respect in my first paragraph, but I have to say it. . . I like the Teletubbies. I know they’re odd. They have ridiculous names (Tinky-Winky, Dipsy, Laa Laa, and Po); they have television screens for bellies, and they talk weird. I get it, but my girls just adore them (and so do I). Shh, don’t tell ANYONE!
A few short week ago, Lil C was terrified of the vacuum cleaner. In a split level home with six levels to be vacuumed, this is a serious problem. I was practically throwing my back out every time I had to run the vacuum because Lil C took up prime real estate on my hip for the duration.
Then one day, I had a brilliant idea.
"Lil C" I said, "our vacuum is just like the Teletubbies Noo-Noo!" We watched a couple episodes on Tivo where the happy little Noo-Noo gladly followed around the Teletubbies and cleaned up their tubby custard spills and their tubby toast crumbs. I took her over to our vacuum and told her, "This is our Noo-Noo. See, Noo-Noo’s are nice. They don’t want to vacuum up little girls or toys, just dirt. They like to clean up dirt."
"Noo-Noo," she said smiling. It was totally working.
I sat her on the sofa with her posse of stuffed animals and told her I was going to turn the Noo-Noo on. She looked nervous; but instead of screaming like she had in the past, she squeezed Elmo a little tighter and just sat there watching the "Noo-Noo" do its thing. It was a total and complete success.
"Noo-Noo cleanin’ up," she’d say. "Noo-Noo no like toyses," she’d repeat like a mantra. I had successfully eased her fear of the dreaded vacuum. And then today happened.
We were watching an afternoon episode of the Teletubbies when something crazy happened. The Noo-Noo, always a perfectly behaved little vacuum cleaner, completely and totally lost it. Instead of cleaning up tubby custard, the Noo-Noo literally ate Laa Laa’s ball.
"OH NO!" Lil C yelled, looking at me like she’d just had the shock of the century. Then the Noo-Noo proceeded to eat Dipsy’s hat.
"What HAP END? Oh NOOOO!" she yelled louder.
"Oh NO, Pack back!" she screamed in anticipation of the Noo-Noo eating Tinky Winky’s bag for dessert, and that’s exactly what the Noo-Noo did.
She walked around the living room like her entire world had just crumbled around her. "It’s o.k." I said, "The Noo-Noo is just being silly. Silly Noo-Noo." But the show ended and there was no vacuum regurgitation or bag changing that I saw.
In an attempt to end the Teletubby experience with a good memory, I quickly found an episode on our DVR and fast forwarded to the Noo-Noo part. To my shock and horror (and to Lil C’s as well), the Noo-Noo approached each sleeping Teletubby and sucked their blankets right off of their colorful rotund bodies.
Lil C spent the rest of the day telling me "Oh NO Noo-Noo! Noo-Noo eat blanket. Noo-Noo eat ball. Noo-Noo Dipsy’s hat! Oh NO NOO-NOO! What HAP END?"
I really need to vacuum tomorrow and I have a feeling we’re going back to the drawing board. Thanks a LOT Noo-Noo!
With a Cherry on Top
I started out my day at midnight. An extremely frustrated Mr. BBM brought down a crying Lil C and said, "I give up." Mr. BBM puts her to bed each night and it just wasn’t happening. I suspected that she wasn’t feeling well, so I got her a drink and cuddled with her on the couch for a bit. I figured her marathon of sleeplessness would end soon.
I was very wrong.
Lil C stayed up until 2 a.m. A very tired me realized that I had to get up at 6:50 a.m. in order to get Big I off to school on time, and I knew then and there it was going to be a bad day. When the alarm went off at 6:50 a.m. on the dot, there was only one thing to do. . . hit the snooze button.
I enjoyed ten more minutes and then dragged my very tired butt out of bed. I threw on some shorts, leaving my pajama top on because I had every intention of walking Big I to the bus and coming right back in to hit the pillow again.
Things were going fine, right up until Big I went upstairs to brush her teeth after breakfast. It was taking a ridiculously long time for her to get back downstairs. I was watching the clock nervously, not wanting her to miss the bus. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I charged up the steps, opened the bathroom door, and there she was with this wide-eyed look.
"Oh thank God, Mommy! I couldn’t open the door." Apparently, six-year olds forget that they should dry their hands on a towel before attempting to open the bathroom door. I told her not to close the door anymore to brush her teeth and we both ran down the stairs.
We grabbed her stuff and ran out the door with one minute to spare. We were sprinting to the bus stop when my neighbor called my name. I was about to tell her I really didn’t have any time to talk when she said, "I think you missed the bus."
That was it. My master plan of going back to sleep was over. I quickly retrieved a hot Lil C from her crib. I thought for a second that maybe she was just hot from being under her covers, but I knew I was grasping. We raced Big I to school and returned back home for a visit with the "birdy" (ear thermometer).
102.3. Fabulous. Just what my Tuesday morning needed.
I gave her some medicine and lured her back to sleep in my bed with Sesame Street reruns. We woke up a few hours later and I spent the rest of the day following around a very runny nosed Lil C.
T minus 72 hours before I have whatever the girls have had. It’s a given.
I spent much of the rest of my day having an email debate with someone who happened to stop by my blog on a day when I was talking about his biggest pet peeve. It was exhausting.
Then, while I was on instant messenger discussing a trade possibility with a teammate in one of my fantasy football leagues, some guy IM’d me out of the blue and asked me if I could "do a full split"? He then also asked me what types of techniques I would use on attackers. I sensed he was looking for a little more than martial arts advice and quickly made my exit.
Big I and I then went to karate tonight. I don’t know what Big I’s problem was, but she was just not into it tonight. She seemed like she was in the twilight zone or something. It was just not clicking for her. I think she was tired, and that she’s still getting used to her school schedule. Tonight showed me though, that I need to put some tape on my makeshift basement dojo floor for her so that she can learn proper stances. I know she’s only six years old, but I get so frustrated with her when she zones out like that.
Follow that with the advanced class where I had to do my kata for Shodan, Seisan, in front of a small crowd. It’s good I did. My instructor was able to point out some crucial things I was doing wrong and give me some very good explanations are far as bunkai goes. I was just nervous being out there in my new dojo in front the advanced crowd, but I guess I better just get used to it. I have much practice to do on Seisan this week.
By the time Big I and I arrived home, my head was just pounding. The lack of sleep, lack of hydration (due to being too busy wiping a little nose all day to get myself much in the way of food or drink) had just caught up with me. Plus, September 11th always makes me feel blue, as it well should.
Sometimes, however, storm clouds come with a lovely silver lining. I got a new comment from someone who said he came from BlogsWeLuv.
What’s that?
A quick search on google brought me to the site where one of the contributors, (and also my blogging buddy) Da Mack Daddy had written this totally awesome, completely flattering review of my blog!
A little ibuprofen for the headache, and a new badge to put on my blog make me very happy. Thank you DMD for such a nice send-off on an otherwise craptastic day!
Copyright
© Copyright 2006-2019 blackbeltmama dot com ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Follow Me
Blog Designed By
My Creations
Things You Could Care Less About
