Black Belt Mama

The Ultimate Snub from "The View"

I don't even know where to begin.  I woke up this morning with a positive outlook on life, and then I saw it.  Have you seen it?  Can you believe the news this morning?  Is it really possible?

The headline reads, "Goldberg, Shepherd to Join 'The View'" 

Huh? 

What?

Are you kidding me?

I don't know what I'm more upset about: the fact that I haven't been chosen, or the fact that I wasn't even considered along with Mario Cantone, Kathy Griffith, and Roseanne Barr.  I mean they're great and all, but we're talking about BLACK BELT MAMA here.  To not even get a nod of consideration is just plain insulting.   

I'm thinking that maybe the other major networks scared them off, and that I'll be approached soon about having my own show.  Or maybe the idea of facing off against a brown belt karate-ka was just too scary for the remaining co-hosts.  Joy Behar may have been just plain scared.  I don't doubt that.

Regardless, the outcome is certainly not a good one.  Although I'm sure Goldberg and Shepherd will do well enough, both of them were expected.  Black Belt Mama would be unexpected and would probably boost their ratings ten-fold.  But apparently I'm not part of the recycled celebrities list so there was never any hope, not even with all of your help. 

Readers wrote Barbara Walters emails and posted my button on their site in support, and I can't thank you enough.  It was a fun ride while it lasted.

Of course, maybe they just want to save me for when Elisabeth goes on maternity leave in the fall.  I won't totally snub their calls if they decide to give me a shot.  But wearing the gi on screen in non-negotiable, I tell you!!!  NON-NEGOTIABLE!   

And I'm going to need a personal masseuse in my dressing room. . .

And a heavy bag for when Joy gets on my nerves. . .

Distractions, Differences and PINK

I've been keeping myself very busy this week.  Busy means I don't have time to feel sorry for myself and think about the pain. 

I took Big I school shopping.  I bought the girls extremely pink shoes.  Correction.  I bought one pair of sensible school shoes for Big I and one pair of very pink sneakers for Lil C.  (My Mom bought the second pair of very pink shoes for Big I.  I can not claim responsibility for any blinding that at least the one pair of shoes may cause.) 

When Big I was this age (approaching two), it was an all out struggle to take her shoe shopping.  She screamed bloody murder when the shoe lady tried to measure her feet.  She refused to allow anyone to touch her ankle to facilitate putting a shoe on her foot.  She kicked her feet rapid fire if she didn't like the shoe that was put on her foot (and even rebelled strongly against some she did like).  It was a complete and total nightmare.  I always left the shoe store in a sweat with a headache.   

When I asked Lil C if she wanted to get new shoes, she stood up, smiled, reached up for me and said "Hold her.  Yes."  I took her sandals off in the store and the lady measured her foot while she stood there like an angel grinning ear to ear.  Then it was time to decide on the shoes. 

While I gravitated towards the sensible white sneakers and the little black mary jane's, Lil C had something else on her mind: "PANK!"  (Pink for those of you who don't know toddlerease.)  And when I ignored the first request for the practically fluorescent pink shoes, "PANK ON NOW!" she told me. 

The lady brought out the black mary jane's and put them on her first.  I oohed and aahed about the pretty bow on the shoes and how cute she looked. 

"Shoe Off" she said.  "Pank on."

So the pink went on.  She sat there smiling as the lady tied her shoelaces.  She wiggled her little feet and giggled before she said, "Pitty (Pretty).  Cool.  Pank."  She got down off the seat and ran around the store in absolute heaven. 

"Well, she does have a lot of pink clothing," I said to my Mom.  "And she can wear white, denim. . . and oh well.  If she likes them."  I asked Lil C if she wanted to get them.

"Get them," she said with a huge grin "O.K." she exclaimed as she nodded her head "yes."  I made her day and she made me spend the rest of mine moving all her pink clothing to the top of the dresser drawers.  Since we brought those very bright sneakers home a few days ago, Lil C has insisted on wearing them from the moment she wakes up until she goes to bed.  She has even napped in them.  I can relate to liking my shoes too, but she's got a love affair with those pink shoes that's going to be nothing short of heartbreaking when she can't fit in them anymore.  I'm dreading that day already.

One day I'm not dreading is the day I can get back in my gi.  I watched karate class this week.  Watched.  Take a moment here to feel the emphasis of that word: watched. 

Big I went out on the floor and did her thing and I sat there.  It almost drove me insane as the class went through all of the waza's as I sat there just taking it all in.  Watching is great if you're a spectator or a cheerleader.  I am neither of those things.  When it comes to learning, I learn best by doing.  Since doing is not an option right now, it was definitely a sad challenge to sit there and not participate.  I spent most of the class observing Big I since during class I'm usually concentrating on myself.  That part was nice, but it's just not the same as being out on the floor.  Enough on that topic unless you want Depressed BBM back.  I'm guessing not, so moving right along. . . 

I spent the afternoon today taking Lil C to her first movie.  The girls, my Mom and I saw Ratatouille and it was really cute.  Lil C was in absolute awe of the big screen and the "mouse."  It didn't matter how many times I whispered to her that it was a "rat."  In the shots where the rats looked small they were "mice" and in the shots where the rats took up most of the screen, they were then "cats." 

I didn't know how she would behave.  When I took Big I to see Finding Nemo around this age, she spent the last 20 minutes of the movie pretending she was an airplane landing on the narrow strip that was the side aisle.  It was a bit distracting. 

Lil C sat on my lap the entire time, occasionally eating a piece of popcorn or candy, but mostly just taking it all in and enjoying it immensely.  It was a nice afternoon out with the girls. 

And now, what you're all waiting for. . . Neck Watch July 2007.  I had my appointment with the massage therapist late this afternoon.  When it hurt, I told her it did.  She said that she had to really go at the messed up shoulder area because there are adhesions there that need to pretty much be attacked so they go away.  Those are not her exact words.  I was too busy flinching and trying not to scream to get the exact words. She told me I'll hate her tomorrow but love her next week.  We'll have to just see about that. 

Most of the massage time was great.  She really worked on my neck and shoulders and upper back and my range of motion right now is so much better than it was prior.  I know I'll probably wake up tomorrow all locked up again, but for right now, I am pleased with the result.  I have another appointment with her and the chiropractor next week. 

Today marks one week from the initial injury.  I'm hoping I only have to watch class for another two weeks.  Only time will tell.  In the meantime, I picked up a copy of "Karate-Do My Way of Life" by Gichin Funakoshi and am enjoying it so far.  If you have any other suggestions for reading materials while I convalesce, I'm open to suggestions. 

Just please don't recommend a book that has a pink cover.  My eyes (and the rest of my body for that matter) have suffered enough strain this week. 

Prognosis

I got up this morning and called the physical therapy place recommended by the doctor I saw Saturday.  They were super unorganized and couldn't offer me an appointment until next Monday at the earliest.  No thank you.

So, I called a chiropractor that I heard good things about and saw him tonight.  He did some gentle adjustments to my neck and upper back.  Then I had ultrasound therapy and stims.  I'm going back tomorrow for more of the same and then at the end of the week I'm seeing the massage therapist. 

I'm hoping that this massage therapist will be nice and gentle.  A few years ago I hurt my back doing a combination of elliptical training and beach volleyball.  I saw a chiropractor in New Jersey who had a massage therapist on staff.  She was a Russian woman and after the first massage with her, I always got worried when the chiropractor would tell me to go in and see her again.  She used to dig her elbows into my back saying "You're so tight" over and over again.  It was agony and literally brought tears to my eyes.  I'm hoping this massage therapist won't be so painful. 

I asked the chiropractor how long I'm going to be out of commission regarding karate.  He told me it will be a minimum of three weeks if I do everything he tells me to do.  A more realistic estimate is about six to eight weeks.  He said my muscles and ligaments are all ripped up and that any little jolt can rip things up worse.  So I'm relegated to the sidelines for a while. 

I figure at the latest, I'll be back to karate by the end of September.  That will still give me about five months to continue training for black belt testing.  I'm just really ticked off that I'm losing any time at all.  I really felt like I was getting somewhere with kata and bunkai.

I'm also upset that I missed two days of being around such great martial arts minds at the training camp.  It's not everyday that you get to converse with Kyoshi Bill Hayes.  If you ever get a chance to meet and/or train with him, don't miss that opportunity.  He's simply amazing. 

I guess I'll take this time to read some good books, and do some mental kata since that's the only kind of kata I'm allowed to do for now.  You can start feeling sorry for me any time now, because I'm definitely feeling pretty sorry for myself.   

Karate Camp Day 1 and Injury Report

Day one of summer training camp was today.  I had an opportunity to train with Hanshi Miguel Ibarra in Aiki-Jujitsu and Kyoshi Bill Hayes in a style of Shorin-Ryu Karate.  I also had a training session on some sword techniques from a 6th Dan, and another session with another Kyoshi and two 6th dans. 

I am one of only about four brown belts at this training camp.  The rest are all varying degrees of black.  There's nothing like a training camp with that kind of company to make you feel completely insecure about your own skills. 

I did learn some really cool things.  I'm just worried I'll have to go back to camp in a complete body cast tomorrow.  This skinny bod of mine just doesn't bounce back in a day the way it happens for kids and young men. 

I realize this post is rather disjointed.  I'm going to blame that on the bell ringing that took place today when I was dropped on what felt like my neck/head during the aiki-jujitsu session by an aiki-jujitsu black belt candidate.  I've got a brush burn on the back of my neck to prove it.  This post will also serve as a public service announcement to anyone out there thinking that they can wear their wedding rings while doing martial arts.  When I was dropped earlier today, I must have landed badly on my left hand.  After the static spots cleared, my diamond looked more like a ruby and my fingers had blood on them. 

As of tonight, the injury report is as follows:

• Two cut fingers from wedding rings (pinky and middle finger)
• One jammed middle finger
• One bruised upper pinky knuckle
• An entire hand experiencing some hurt (yes, you should totally thank me for even trying to write a post)
• One extremely stiff neck that is spreading into the back, my shoulders, and all around my neck (front, back and sides). 
• One brush burn on back of my neck that hurts like you know what when I'm in the shower.
• One foggy brain that saw spots after being dropped in what I will call a rather unfriendly manner.

Tonight, I got to watch black belt testing.  I wanted to watch so I know what to expect.  It was exciting to watch and gave me some good ideas of things I need to work on. 

I'm not the only one who experienced an injury today.  Today, Lil C through her head back into Big I and broke what appears to be a blood vessel on top of her nose.  Her nose is bruised and was bleeding quite a bit today.  I'm just hoping the poor kid doesn't have a broken nose because she already has so much going against her in the genetic nose department in this family that I'm not sure any of us can handle a broken nose.

I'll be heading back to camp tomorrow and am going to hope that I am able to turn my head from side to side and bend my fingers a little better.  I did natural child birth right?  What's a jammed finger? 

Enter ibuprofen and tub full of ice.

Edited to Add:  There will be no more karate camp for me except for observation only (Maybe the dinner if I'm not too loopy from the muscle relaxers.)  I saw a doctor this morning (Saturday) after waking up in agony.  I have a severe case of whiplash/neck sprain that will require physical therapy starting next week.  I've been prescribed muscle relaxers, some pretty heavy duty pain medication, a soft collar for alternating with ice application, and some gentle neck strectches.  Someone please remind me to never try aiki-jujitsu again.

   

Extra, extra: Get your apologies. . .

Yesterday I went to the grocery store with the girls.  When I left I was completely disgusted with myself.  A woman cut me off in the produce department and I said "Sorry."  I immediately stopped and considered making myself drop and do some push-ups.  What the hell did I say that for?  She cut me off, not the other way around.  I began having an internal dialogue with myself about how ridiculous it is that I say "sorry" all the time.

In the next aisle, I walked in front of someone who was scanning the shelves for crackers.  I said, "Excuse me" which is all that was really necessary.  But just for good measure, I added a "sorry" on the end of that little courtesy.  I was taken aback by myself.  Why did I just apologize to that woman?  I said "excuse me."  What exactly did I need to apologize for?  Nothing!!!

I made it through several more aisles without an apology.  I was super conscious of it and a little bit shocked as to how much a part of my regular vocabulary that word has become (or maybe has always been). 

In the ice cream aisle, I was blocking a woman and her cart.  Instead of just moving out of her way, I said "sorry."  I felt like smacking myself.  I didn't need to apologize. A simple "excuse us" would have done the trick, but there I was apologizing again!

When I left the store I had said "sorry" at least five times and exactly 0 of those apologizes were warranted.  I had a conversation with my Mom on the phone about it and I told her that we really need to both stop saying "sorry" so much.  My Mom does it ALL THE TIME too, which is probably where I get it from.  My Mom agreed, saying that someone once told her that saying "sorry" when there's nothing to be sorry for makes you appear weak.  (I think some of my very wise readers said the very same thing just last week). 

So today, my Mom and I took the girls shopping.  We are walking through the mall when two young men, probably in their early 20's, stepped back from a kiosk in the middle of the mall and one of them literally barreled into my Mom.  And do you know what she did?????

She said "sorry."  The two guys did not apologize.  They didn't say "excuse me" and they didn't say "sorry".  In fact, the guy didn't even acknowledge that he had just plowed into my Mom. 

I muttered a sarcastic "NICE" underneath my breath, (I'm trying to keep my public confrontations down to about once a month in front of the girls and I've already reached my quota for July) when what I really wanted to do was kick the back of his knee and say nothing the way he had done as he hit the floor.   I didn't.  I stared angrily at the back of his fat head and walked on. Later, in the car, my Mom and I were talking about how ridiculous it was that SHE apologized to HIM.  It was absurd, but that word just seems to pop out of me and my Mom like a reflex. 

Now, more than ever, I am thinking that this whole "sorry" business is definitely a female thing; and I am making a conscious effort to not be so damn sorry all the time, both in and out of the dojo.  It may be a female thing, but it doesn't have to have a permanent place in my vocabulary.  There's certainly a time and a place for "sorry" but the unnecessary times and places definitely need to go. 

So, what do you think?  Is it mostly a female thing?  If so, why do we do THAT???

My Education qualified me to do WHAT???

Thirteen years of school, Kindergarten through 12th grade.

Four years of college to attain Bachelor of Arts degree.

Twelve months of double graduate credits to earn Masters degree in one year.

So how on earth did I become a maid/short order cook/full time babysitter extraordinaire?

Don't get me wrong.  I love being at home with my girls and I love having kids.  It's just that there are some days when I feel like my time would be better spent banging my head against a wall. 

Take today for example.  This morning, during a rare moment where the girls were actually getting along, I was able to clean the kitchen and mop the floor.  Thirty minutes later, Lil C came into the kitchen, opened the pantry closet, dumped a box of pop-tarts onto the floor, stepped on the one open foil pack smooshing it into the floor, before deciding that she'd rather have a cracker anyway.  At least 40% of said cracker then ended up on the floor in about 4000 little crumbs.  I got out the broom again. 

Dry crumbs are no big deal, but after we returned from the grocery store today she insisted on having "razz-da's" (raspberries) as a snack.  She sat in her chair, eating her raspberries contentedly, right up until she decided it would be much more fun to chew one partially up and them whip it onto the floor.  Since that poor little raspberry was all alone, it was only right that the bowl of raspberries followed the lone chewed up one onto the floor, spraying raspberry juice across my only temporarily clean kitchen floor in an instant. 

Since "razzda's" and "cwackers" are the nouveau thing to eat for dinner, Lil C then had an all out 35 minute long tantrum because I wanted her to sit in her chair and eat her chicken pot pie at dinner time.  T H I R T Y - F I V E mind-blowingly-long headache-inducing minutes of nothing but screaming and streams of tears and snot.  It was fabulous.  Did I mention that I was trying to eat during this little incident? 

The good thing is that Big I found the whole ordeal quite amusing, so at least one kid was content.  I think that Lil C's schedule is just all messed up right now.  For the past three weeks, Big I has been having play/musical rehearsal every Monday through Thursday nights from at least 6-9 p.m., sometimes 5-9:30 p.m.  This past week, she also had performances on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.  We've all been busy, exhausted and lacking our usual schedules. 

This week is officially all about getting Lil C back on a schedule.  Then again, on Friday I will start my three day karate training camp, so if all the kinks aren't worked out yet. . . oh well.  Mr. BBM won't mind one bit, I'm sure, especially since tonight he is away on business and I have a hot date planned for myself with a Season 2 DVD of 24 and some yummy snacks. . .

And now Lil C is awake and screaming, after being asleep for only an hour. . .

So much for that.

Point my head to the nearest wall please. 

Sorry I said "Sorry"

There's a new rule at the dojo during my one instructor's classes, and I'm not liking it one bit.  The rule is this: If I say the word "sorry" I have to drop and do five push-ups.  Five.  Big deal, right?  Well, with my genetic programming, I ended up doing at least 25 push-ups tonight. 

I screw up and my instructor catches me.  I say "sorry."  Five push-ups.  I hit him harder than I should.  I say "sorry."  Five push-ups.  For me, saying "sorry" is as automatic as brushing my teeth in the morning or saying "thank you" when someone holds the door open for me.  It's going to be a hard habit to break. 

My instructor says the "sorry" has to go before black belt testing.  He also says I need to stop making faces when I screw up and sound effects to accompany those screw-ups.  I swear it's harder than working on kata and bunkai; and unfortunately he is exactly right about each of these little BBMisms.  I'm afraid that this is what I'm going to look like by the time black belt testing rolls around if I don't stop saying "sorry." 

I was thinking tonight, that maybe I should just try to program myself to say something else.  He said the word "sorry" is push-up inducing.  He said nothing about the following phrases or words, "I apologize" or "my deepest apologies" or "regrettable" or "remorseful" or "repentant" or "penitent." 

So the next time I screw up, if I feel a "sorry" coming on I'll just say "regrettable" and see what happens. Of course, something tells me that the push-up tally will only increase if I try that.  Then again, I've been meaning to work on my upper body strength so I'm going to just roll with it. . . right up until I wake up tomorrow, sore as hell, cursing myself for being so damn apologetic. 

In other news, I found this interesting website where you can plug in your site and it gives you a rating, like a movie rating.  Mine is as follows:

Want to know what that rating is based on?  I kid you not.  I get this rating because of the presence of the word "pooped."  No wonder Karl is rated NC-17.

In the interest of starting off on the right non-apologizing foot, you won't see me apologizing for my use of the word "pooped" or my PG rating. 

Sorry if that offends you. 

(Sigh)

I have a long way to go. . .   

The Bubble Lady and the Shhher

At my local mall, there is a woman who works in a department store shoe department.  She has worked there for decades now, and that's not the only thing that has stayed the same.  When I was a little girl, my Mom would take my sister and me to the department store; and while my Mom tried on shoes, the bubble lady blew bubbles from a bottle and wand that she wore around her neck.  I adored that lady.  There's just something exciting about blowing bubbles in a department store when you're a kid. 

Today, Lil C and I were roaming the mall while waiting for Big I's reading class to finish up.  Because Lil C has long abandoned her love for the stroller, I brought along her little push car and it was working perfectly right up until it wasn't.  Lil C was standing there in the mall, walking the opposite direction almost constantly, and I was trying to get her back in her car.  She wasn't behaving badly, just being a typical one year old, wanting to assert some control over her shopping decisions. 

And that's when, out of nowhere, the bubble lady appeared.  "Here," she said, "I'll blow bubbles over the car and I bet she'll sit for you."  There, in the middle of the mall, the bubble lady worked her magic, blowing bubbles for Lil C until she was mesmerized.  After a minute of bubble-induced happiness, Lil C was more than willing to get back in her car.  I was elated; but the bubble lady didn't stop there.  To encourage Lil C to continue sitting in her chair, she got out a sheet of frog stickers and handed those over.  We began putting the frog stickers on her car and she was thrilled. 

"You know," I said to the bubble lady, "you used to blow bubbles for me when I was a kid."  She laughed and said, "Really?" and I continued to tell her how much I had loved her as a kid and how much more I love her now as a parent.  I truly believe there is a special place in heaven for the bubble lady, because anyone who helps a woman entertain her child and get more shoes in the process is truly a very special person.

Contrast this with the very rude shher in my daughter's reading class only an hour later.  I was feeling happy with the world after my encounter with the bubble lady.  Lil C and I left the mall and went to pick up Big I.  Parents are supposed to attend the last 10-15 minutes of class to hear what the homework is for the following week and get tips from the teacher.  I arrived about five minutes before I needed to be there, because I wanted to make sure I was on time.  I stood outside the closed door with Lil C and was going to wait until it was the exact time.  The reading teacher smiled, and waved us both in. 

Lil C and I went in and took a seat in the back of the classroom.  Lil C is a talker.  She was sitting on my lap and running through her inventory of favorite things: "Mommy, Dada, Big I (o.k. she doesn't really call her Big I but I'm not telling her real name)".  I quietly told her to whisper and then occupied her with looking at the pictures and credit cards in my wallet.  She preferred the credit cards. 

While this was going on, the kids were playing a game to end class.  They were divided into two teams.  The room wasn't exactly quiet to begin with.  And then, out of nowhere, came this loud "SHHHHHH."  And again, "SHHHHHH," and on this second Shh, I whipped my head around to see one of the father's Shhing me and my daughter from across the room.  Being the involved parent that he is, he sits in the back of the classroom each week, apart from his daughter, busy with his own reading.  At least when I was able to participate (when I had a sitter for Lil C) I was involved in her learning. 

If you've been reading here for a while you know that I am not the type to be Shhhed.  And don't even think about SHHing my children.  Seriously not cool.  So, when I whipped my head around, I couldn't help myself.  I gave him a look that could easily put him 6 feet under and mouthed the exaggerated words "I. AM. TRYING. SHUT. YOUR. MOUTH." 

I don't think he was expecting that response from me.  I think he thought I would rush Lil C out of the classroom, because God forbid Lil C or I interrupt the group game (which we weren't doing anyway).  I continued to look at him like I wanted to rip his head off, and he sheepishly looked down and away. 

After class I stood around and waited to see if he would say something to me.  I wanted him to, because I really wanted to tell him that he needs to mind his own business, and that if he ever thinks about Shhing me or my child again, he should strongly reconsider since I may need to then shush him.  He instead looked intimidated and steered very clear of me. 

I didn't do anything wrong.  I never would have even walked in that classroom with Lil C had the teacher not told me to do so.  AND, it wasn't like she was screaming in the background or even being loud for that matter.  She was just talking occasionally in her normal voice.  The Shhing was completely unwarranted. 

Afterward I thought about the contrast between these two people.  One sees a young child and decides to make her day (and therefore her mother's); the other sees a young child and decides to reprimand for no reason and try (notice I said "try") to make the mother feel about two inches tall.  It made me think about many different aspects of my life, and how the good and the bad are just inherent in life.  I guess to really appreciate the good people in your life, you have to encounter some not so great people.  Likewise, the unfortunate or bad things that happen in life, make the good moments and experiences that much sweeter. 

Happy Monday (for a change)

Generally, I'm not a fan of Monday's.  Despite the obvious reasons: not the weekend anymore and very far from the next weekend, Monday's always seem to pose additional challenges in the BBM household.  The girls are usually super challenging on Monday's (or maybe it just feels that way since I slack off over the weekend and let Mr. BBM deal with stuff, only to take back my full role each Monday morning).  For whatever reason, Monday's are usually just plain not cool.

But when your Monday starts out with a comment on your blog saying that you are the Crazy Hip Blog Mama's, "Mom of the Week," things are obviously looking pretty up!

I'm thinking that my music video had something to do with this.  I may have to come out of retirement after all. 

Floating, Oozing, and Encores

When I went to karate last week, I had to climb in my moon roof because my head wouldn't fit through the door or even in the car for that matter.  Driving with your head sticking out of the moon roof is not easy.  Despite all the odd looks I got and the few bugs who met an unfortunate fate, driving in such a fashion was not all that bad (Bugs are protein right?).  I'll deal with the bugs, because compliments like the ones I got certainly don't come every day.  When you guys like something, you know how to compliment the hell out of a girl, so thank you all!

After watching all the comments and emails rolling in from across the blogosphere in response to my debut music video, I came to two possible conclusions: either the mirrors in my house are straight out of a fun house, or my readers need to seriously consider seeing an eye doctor.  I'm going with the latter. 

Mr. BBM is so thrilled with the response from the video that he's been scratching his head trying to think of an encore.  I had imagined this would be a one-time thing but Mr. BBM says that it was entirely too much fun to only do once.  After such a fabulous response to the debut, I don't think I'd ever be able to top it, so he's going to have to do some major convincing for me to get out the echo microphone and heels and come out of retirement.  I think I'm more of a one-hit wonder. 

In other news, mosquito's are not the least bit threatened by a bo.  I've been taking advantage of the nice weather to work on my bo kata's and bunkai outside.  I figure I better get all of the bo kata's and their applications nailed down now since winters where I live are not exactly bo friendly. 

Before I went outside, I sprayed a decent amount of natural bug repellent on my arms and legs.  It spelled worse than the DEET stuff, a harsh concoction of lemon and eucalyptus.  I think the spray is more of a human repellent than anything else though.  I know I wouldn't want to stand near me smelling like that!  The mosquito's, on the other hand, must be really into citrus fruits.  My legs are currently a spotted mess of itch and ooze. 

The good news is that despite the attack of the mosquito's, days later I am able to walk a stranger through the bunkai.  It is definitely starting to stick in that slippery brain of mine.  The bo kata's are starting to make a lot more sense to me, which is a big relief.  If only bunkai came as easily as lip syncing. . .   

The post where I make a fool of myself

When Karl emailed me a few weeks ago and asked me to guest blog over at his place, I was flattered to be among those he asked.  He's calling it his Super Summer of Lovin' as he's asked only what he deems to be hot women bloggers to be guest posters. 

Since I asked to be able to take my turn towards the end of the three weeks of guest posters, I've had lots of time to check out what the other women have been writing.  There's lots of drooling over Karl and flattery galore.  While all the saliva is completely justified because Karl is indeed a catch, I thought I'd take a bit of a different approach. . .

I've been saying for months now that maybe, just maybe I'll put up a video of myself doing a kata or something karate related.  Who would have ever thought that my first video to hit the web would be one like this?  Certainly not me, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  I struggled with what to write over there and then realized that I shouldn't really write.  I should just "perform."

To entice you to visit and see for yourself, here are some answers to common questions you might have after watching the video:

Yes, that is my daughter's echo microphone.

No, that is not actually my voice.

Yes, that is me doing something karate related; and yes, I am highly disturbed about how I look when I am doing something karate related (I have so much work to do).

No, none of the girls' toys were harmed during the filming of this video  (I can't say the same for the pictures on my heavy bag.) 

Yes, I was completely 100% sober.

No, I don't take myself too seriously so you probably shouldn't either. 

Yes, I used my sai for the "carving."

I think that about covers it.  Go watch, leave a comment over there for Karl, and then come back here and tell me what you think when the laughing or head shaking has subsided enough for you to type.  Go on, go! 

What is it with Saliva?

I've been learning exactly why I used to teach high school and not elementary school.  Big I is enrolled in a summer reading program.  Since she was only in half day Kindergarten, I thought it would be a good idea to reinforce what she learned this past year and give her a head start for 1st grade.  Parents are invited to sit in on the class to observe the ways they teach phonics and reading.  So, for the past two weeks, I've spent two hours every week sitting in on this reading class.

Big I is enjoying it.  I can't say the same for myself.  While I recognize that she is learning and that the program is beneficial for her, sitting through those classes is nothing short of torture for me. 

This week, it took all I had to hold back from gagging as I watched a little boy continually licking his fingers and then picking his nose and rubbing his face.  By the time the class was over, I was convinced that his face had a nice coating of saliva and boogies, and my stomach was threatening to rebel.  There are also a couple kids who chew on or suck on their thumbs, not caring a bit that they're drooling on themselves and the community crayons.  Then they turn their crayons in to the teacher and there I am mentally cataloging the colors in case Big I gets those colors next week.  Yeech.

Then there's the bathroom brigade.  These are the kids who can not hold it until the potty break, yet their accompanying parent or grandparent tells them they absolutely must wait until the teacher says they can go.  Um, no.  I was especially worried as I watched a little boy squirm in his seat and tell his grandmother that he really has "to go RIGHT NOW!" to no avail.  I moved my purse and Big I's bag too because although the grandmother was convinced, I certainly wasn't that he was going to make it to potty time. 

Then there's the teacher.  She's very nice and very knowledgeable, but it's quite obvious that I do not have the patience nor the voice to teach small children.  She's also quite talented at stopping mid-sentence to demand that little Howie "sit straight up in your chair please" without missing a beat.  She always sounds super sweet when she's making these plea's to the kids.  I just don't have that in me.  Never did. 

When I taught high school, I think that most of the kids knew better that to mess with me.  I wasn't exactly a sweetheart of a teacher, and I certainly didn't tolerate saliva issues or boogies for that matter.  Eww.

Seeing what many of the kids who are Big I's age act like, it's now become very clear to me why we spent almost the entire school year being sick.  This year, I think I'm going to install a hazmat shower outside my front door for when she comes home.   

On Thursday, I am guest blogging over at Karl's place.  My guest post will feature a Black Belt Mama debut video, and I doubt you want to miss that!  Have a Happy saliva free 4th of July!