I've told you about my work out motivated husband. Often, he'll head off towards the basement and ask Big I if she'd like to go "work out" with him. Their work out consists of sit-ups (or in Big I's case "lay downs" which look like she's been glued to the floor as she tries to sort of lift the back of her head maybe a half inch off the mat), push-ups (also known as stationary horsey ride on Daddy's back), a nice game of leap frog (or squats according to my husband), and pull ups for my husband (hang from the beams for Big I). My husband defends this "work out" as a good one for both of them.
Today, my husband when to the gym. Lil C was sleeping and after reading all of your comments and emails saying how motivating I am. . . I figured I better fit the part and go work out or something. So, I told Big I that she was welcome to join me and she did. She suggested warming up with some jumping jacks. We did some spirited jumping jacks, followed by punches and double punches in Nai Hanchi, followed by snap kicks: obi level (belt or stomach area) and to the head on my heavy bag of course (Big I used her Scooby Doo punching bag.) That was just the warm up.
We then moved on to Kata one and push-ups. At this point, Big I decided to quit and requested we play a nice game of Memory instead. She even volunteered to get the game from the closet herself. I told her that I was working out, and that I wanted her to work out with me. Her response? "No Mommy. You're work out is way harder than Daddy's."
Can I tell you how many ways she made my day by saying that? My warm up is a harder work out than Daddy's? Oh yeah, you hear that darling husband? That was all the motivation I needed to continue with my work out. I'm an extremely competitive person; and there's no one I'm more competitive with than my husband. I sailed through the rest of my kata's and waza's. I churned out my push-ups and pushed past the pain that is still haunting my arms and chest. I did the sit-ups and even did the pilates 100 instead of plain sit-ups. I did the squats and got to 10 without even a thought about which treat I would reward myself with afterwards.
After I was finished, I was sweating. I hadn't showered yet so it wasn't a problem. Big I and I decided our post work out cool down would be a nice game of Scrabble Junior. No cookie today.
Despite the fact that Big I told me mine is the harder work out, deep down I know that it's because mine involves karate. She saw me doing kata and mentally shut down. When I was talking about her coordination the other day, I stated that I really think it's more of a paying attention issue. Tonight, my theory proved true.
We went to visit some college friends at their house. These are the type of friends who make you wish arranged marriages were an option for the common folks (and I'm not just saying that because I know they read my blog religiously). They have two awesome kids who are so incredibly sweet and fun. Their son, a year younger than Big I, is a doll. Our kids have never had a disagreement. They always get along. They usually cry or complain profusely when our little visits are over. Their son calls Big I his "girlfriend," and we can only hope that it's a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Back in college, we used to party with our mutual friends and shoot the you-know-what. About what, I'm not really sure. It was college after all. These days, we have dinner and the conversation at the "adult table" usually revolves around poop and other various bodily functions and mishaps involving our kids and pets. After all, that is what parents talk about. We're thinking that a wedding reception would bring back the college days if only for one glorious night.
Our friends have a large yard and enough animal friends to fill a small zoo. Big I immediately went off with her "boyfriend" to play in the yard, visit their pet horses, and play on the new swing set. Within five minutes, the child was screaming that she hurt herself. I checked out the latest injury (yet another knee boo-boo) and asked her how it happened. "Were you running?" She says, "No, just walking." So, I cleaned up her knee and sent her on her way.
Fifteen minutes later, she enters the kitchen sniffling. She'd been hit in the nose with a wiffle ball. That issue was resolved and off she went again. So, it was time to eat dinner and she came inside to get her plate. My husband told her to go wash her hands in the bathroom. Big I walks over to the pantry closet door and grabs the handle. We all start telling her she's at the wrong door, but she continues to open the door, staring out in our direction. We continue telling her she's at the wrong door, and she actually backs into the pantry closet and starts to close the door. Had she not had an encounter with some instant tea and canned soups, I fully believe she would have shut the door and stood in there wondering where she'd gone wrong.
She is a smart little girl. She knows everything there is to know about fossils, dinosaurs, and the rotation of the Earth. She just does not pay attention to her surroundings at all. I'm going to continue to ask her to work out with me, in the hopes that she'll become more focused on the task at hand. And maybe, just maybe that will translate to other things in life like avoiding close encounters with canned goods when all she's looking for is a sink and some soap.
