Black Belt Mama

To Paint or Not to Paint

This morning our realtor suggested once again, that we paint the girls' rooms.  We poured our hearts and souls into those rooms and it kills me to even think about it.  When he asked me what my objection was, I told him that paint is an easy fix for a new buyer, and that I don't want to traumatize my girls.  Moving is traumatic enough.  He said he wants to help us remove every possible objection.  Most people who are looking at our house are young professionals or older people looking for a house where they don't have to mow the lawn.  Neither of these demographics wants themed kids rooms (although no one has yet complained about the rooms). 

I spent days choosing the exact colors I wanted to use.  I hand made that ocean stencil, painstakingly added those little jumping dolphins, glued seashells onto the curtain rod and spent hours lounging on the floor as Mr. BBM used glaze paint to create clouds on the walls and vaulted ceilings.  Some of them look like plain old clouds, but if you look closely you can see that some of them are shaped like seahorses, dolphins and starfish. 

We painted this room when I was about seven months pregnant.  It was a hot summer weekend and Mr. BBM and I spent the entire weekend working on it.  When all was said and done, we added Big I's baby furniture, bought bright-colored sea creatures to hang on the walls and put it all together.

Lil C loves her ocean room.  She likes to pretend she's Ariel in there.  I realized today though, that it may be me who loves that room the most. 

When we first moved in, it was a playroom/guest room.  As 14 months of trying to have another baby went unanswered, it became this room that was supposed to be and just wasn't.  And then I took that pregnancy test and our Lil C and this ocean room became a reality. 

Maybe painting it white is just the first step in letting go of this house that is our first real family home.  Letting go of a place that gave you so many fabulous memories is really difficult to do.  It may just be a gallon or two of paint, but it's what that room represents that is the most difficult to just paint over. If we do decide to paint it, there will be tears and I'm betting that they'll be mine. 

Seven going on 17

Yesterday, the day before Big I's official 7th birthday, she curled up on the chair with her pen and notebook and told me there was a page in there that she didn't want me to see.

"Why not?" I asked her.  She's forever showing me something new in her notebook.

"I wrote something about this boy," she said.  "I think I'm fallin' in love with him."

Flustered, I asked her for a name.  She hesitated.  She really didn't want to tell me.  I knew it could only last so long though.  Thirty seconds later, she volunteered that he's a new boy in her school and he's in her grade (Thank God). 

I asked her what was so special about him and she responded, "I don't know. There's just something about him Mommy." 

I informed her that she can't talk about boys and in the same sentence say "Mommy."  I prefer that she loses the boy talk to be quite honest.  I asked her if she just meant that they were friends and she said, "Nope, I think I'm gonna marry him someday." 

Did she turn seven today or 17, because I don't think I can tell the two apart? 

Happy Birthday Big I, but please stay little for just a little while longer.  Please?

To Become Her for Just One Day

My daughter came home from school today with a mark on her leg from where another child had kicked her.  Through sweatpants, there was a little brush burn on her shin.  I asked her what happened and she said that she walked up to this little girl, said "hi" and the girl kicked her.  Big I asked the girl why she kicked her and the girl wouldn't answer.  She then proceeded to chase her around the playground, trying to kick her again.

(Deep breath.)

(One more.)

(Deep breath.)

She told her teacher and the teacher told her to go and try to work it out with the little punter.  She didn't get it worked out.  I have let things go throughout the year and a half that Big I has been in school.  I didn't call when the group of brats was laughing at her last year.  I didn't call when this same little girl was stealing her snack and her crayons daily.  I told her how to handle it and let her handle it herself.  She always seemed willing to fight her own battles when it came to the previous incidents. 

However, when another child leaves a mark on my kid????  Oh NO she DIDN'T!

I immediately called the school and asked to speak to the teacher.  I told her what happened and that I was upset about it.  I was livid and I think she knew it.  She went to talk to the kicker who was still at school and called me back. 

Meanwhile, this is me to Big I: "The next time that kid even looks like she's going to touch you, you tell her that if she kicks you, then you are going to kick her back.  And when you kick her, you drop her, Big I.  And if you get in trouble at school, know that Mommy will go in there and raise hell because you have a right to defend yourself, and . . . "

So the phone rings.  The punter has to sit inside for four recesses.  She's also going to see the principal tomorrow, and she's going to apologize.  Apparently the whole incident had nothing to do with Big I.  The girl was frustrated with someone else so she took it out on an easy target.

I am tired of my kid being the easy target for everyone, just because she's nice.  Even the teacher said it's because Big I is a "kind and gentle soul." 

Fast forward a few hours to Big I's karate class.  I talked to her teacher (also a dad of several little ones) and told him what happened.  They then spent much of the class working on playground situations, speaking up, yelling "KNOCK IT OFF" or "STOP IT" as loud and as mean as they could. They worked on using some aggression by pushing someone's hands away or pushing someone back and yelling at the same time. 

Big I started out smiling and tentatively saying "stop it."  By the end of the class, she was yelling and only popping an occasional smirk.  I'm going to have Mr. BBM work on some things with Big I, and have her role play some situations.  She has to understand that she DOES NOT have to be nice to someone who's not nice to her.  It was great that karate class tonight reinforced sticking-up-for-yourself behavior.  Now we just have to work on pulling out her inner warrior.

In the meantime, I really need to figure out some way that I could embody Big I for just one day. . .

Just one day is all I would need. . .   

The Terrible TWO

It is difficult to believe that I (once again) have a two-year old.  She's my baby and I can not believe how fast time has gone.  Lil C has been giving us a preview of the terrible two's for the past few weeks.  The answer to just about everything is an adament "no."  She has suddenly decided she will only eat yellow foods and only if she REALLY feels like it; and the kid can pull hair.  Man, can she pull hair!

She also says, "Mommy, Love you too!" about twenty times a day; and she gives neck hugs resembling a rear naked choke that can completely cut off circulation to the brain.  She's the great pretender and often imagines she's eating an ear of corn or that one of her favorite stuffed animals, George, is playing hide and seek with her.  She's learned so much over the past year (including how to count to ten in Japanese), O.k. and a couple curse words.  No one's perfect. 

She's now putting herself to sleep in her own room (I forgot to mention that we moved her out of our room a few weeks ago, finally.  Yes, I have attachment issues and possibly facing this being the last baby issues, so leave me alone.)  Unlike most kids who want to hear "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" or something along those lines, Lil C's night time requests include the "pipate song" (pirate song). 

The other night as I was singing "Yo ho, Yo ho, a pirate's life for me. . . " she stopped me and said, "No Mommy, not dat pipate song. Beer song."  We went to the Renaissance Faire a few weeks ago and went to the pirate show where they made the audience sing a chorus of "beer, beer, beer, beer; beer, beer, beer, beer."  So, that's her lullaby of choice now, a constant repetition of the word "beer" that puts her right to sleep.  Apparently, it's entirely possible to give birth to a little angel the first time around and sheer trouble the second time around. 

Since her Daddy is once again on a business trip, we're going to have a small dinner party tonight, complete with ice cream cake and the new wooden train set that she's getting (because we have entirely too many princesses in this house). 

If you'd like to read Lil C's birth story, you can do so here.  About 12 hours ago, two years ago, I was weathering contractions in the hallway and drooling on the floor during a particularly bad one.  Don't believe me?  Go read.

Happy Birthday Lil C! 

Pool Day

We are a little over a week away from Lil C's second birthday.  I have not, in any way, been pushing her to use the potty yet because I learned that lesson the hard way with Big I.  She will go when she is ready to go.  It's practically my mantra.  In fact, if you tell me that you think two-year olds should already be potty trained, I will probably stick my fingers in my ears and hum loudly.  I'm not allowing external forces (also known as my grandmother, etc.) to pressure me; and I'm not going to pressure Lil C. 

Despite my not pushing her, Lil C has taken a great interest in the potty lately.  Unfortunately, this interest is usually only after I have changed her diaper.  She then wants to "sit on a poppy" after the point is already moot.  Then, she'll forget that she's supposed to be sitting on the "poppy" and start wandering around diaper-less on my white carpet, causing me an anxiety attack for a couple minutes before I finally convince her that we'd both be happier if she had a diaper on. 

In addition to her little obsession with sitting on the poppy, she's also obsessed with these little animal toys.  She collected random little people characters from the zoo and the farm, her V-tech train animals, and any random figurine she's received over the years such as Care Bears, Jungle Book characters, etc. and they go absolutely EVERYWHERE with us.  At any given time, she has at least five of them in her arms.  Leaving the house causes great anxiety unless I can find a bag and dump all of the animal characters in there for her.  If we abandon any one of them at home, it's cause for a complete and total meltdown.  And yes, she has cataloged them all to memory.  If we forget the monkey, she will cry for the monkey for a good 30 minutes.  If she happens to see a random monkey image on a billboard or something, it will jog her memory enough to elicit all new "Oh NO MONKEY!" cries. 

So, you take these two interests of hers: the "poppy" and the animals, combine them, and you have this:

. . . a "pool day" (her words-not mine).  Did I mention she also loves the pool?

Somehow I'm thinking that true potty action isn't going to happen with the "pool poppy;"  and something tells me we're at least a little while away from potty trained bliss. . .   

Mixed Bag of Results

The minute I saw Big I's face when I picked her up from school, I knew I wasn't going to get a good report.  She looked tired, deflated, and just plain sad.  She started crying before we reached the car.  The day was too long, she missed me and Lil C too much, and she just wasn't going back to do that again. 

We eventually got to the good stuff.  Her teacher is nice.  She had fun seeing her friends again.  Lunch wasn't so bad.  There were two recesses (Man, who wouldn't love that???).  She'll get used to it.  She was like this last year with Kindergarten.  First grade is going to take some getting used to as well.  I'm really happy she has a four day weekend, and that next week is another short week.  She needs a gradual introduction to this all day business (and to be honest, so do I).  I must say though, that I held up way better than I did last year.  I had a teary moment or two, but that was it.  At least one of us made it through the day without full on tears.

After a couple hours of decompressing, Big I and I made our way to our new dojo.  It only took us about eight minutes to get there (during traffic-I'm so loving the shorter commute), so we were early.  We stood outside and talked about what we thought it was going to be like.  Big I was excited, but nervous.  I was feeling the same. 

Then, a fabulous looking motorcycle drove into the parking lot and there was our new teacher (an impressive 9th degree black belt even without the motorcycle entrance).  With such an outstanding entrance, Big I was already losing her nerves.  "Is that my teacher?" she asked excitedly.  Once inside, she was also very floored by the various pictures on the walls of our new teachers from magazines, newspaper articles, etc.  I explained who they all were, and she marveled, "Wow!  They're famous!" 

We changed, got situated, were introduced and then started our work out, and a work out it was.  There were a couple hundred kicks (from a ground-fighting position which was new to us and pretty cool).  Yes, I will be paying for those cool kicks tomorrow.  The muscles are already starting to complain a bit. 

The higher ranks separated and did kata while Big I stayed with the lower ranks and worked on something else.  I don't know what they were doing because I was concentrating on my own stuff; but I do know that she excitedly talked to me about seeing how to break that "muscle" which most people know as the collar bone on the way home.  I informed her that it's actually a bone, for future reference.  That only increased the excitement. 

At the end of the two hours, I'm pretty sure there was steam rising from my head, and my gi. . . well, it needs to be washed and badly.  It was a great work out and a fun night.  It felt awesome to be back in karate class again.  I'm happy to say that my neck seems to have held up pretty well.  I'm sure I'll have some soreness tomorrow, but that's to be expected as I continue to heal.

Big I and I spent the drive home discussing our new dojo, and it's quite obvious that she does not have the reservations about our new karate school that she obviously has about first grade.  It seems that Big I and I will fit in there quite well.  It already felt very comfortable.  Today may have been a bit shaky with the first grade business; but tonight was an overwhelming success. 

To all my regular commenters, comment moderation has been turned on until the spammers decide to give up. I got some of the most insane spam comments the other day and it just needs to stop.  So, sorry about the delay in seeing your comments up there; but they will all get up there eventually as long as you're not trying to get me to transfer funds from Africa or something.  I appreciate all of your comments and will give you free reign soon.  Promise.

Also, one of my fabulous readers along with her "zoo" is walking for the Humane Society.  If you'd like to contribute to her efforts, go here.  You can also click the link in the sidebar. 

Notes from a 5-year old

My husband was about to leave with Big I to run some errands.  Big I asks, "Are we gonna return that shirt to "Old Lady"?"  She was referring to Old Navy.

Big I:  Mommy, do you know that baby pigs are called "piglips?"

Big I:  "That is the funniest thing I never heard!"

But by far, the best thing I've heard her say in recent days. . .

"Mommy, I love karate."

And then, because I wasn't basking in delight enough she said, "Can we practice karate sometime today?"

The smile on my face?  I think it's permanent.

Elmo-palooza

I didn't write about karate last week.  I wanted to, but I just didn't have any time to put anything coherent together.  First, the gifts started arriving. . .

Then, I was too busy being all "wah, my baby is a year old"; and then came the baking. . . lots and lots of baking.  First came the cookies in the shapes of C's, 1's, little hands and little feet. . .

Then came the cupcakes, complete with Elmo cupcake papers and Elmo icing decorations.

Then came the baby block cake that took 5.5 hours to complete from start to finish.  It was four layers and took all kinds of patience and tools like a cake leveler (which is THE coolest baking invention EVER), and food coloring and Smoothie Skittles (which I don't recommend eating although they are great for decorating).

The cake was a huge success as evidenced by the cake buzz. . .

As if the baking wasn't enough, there was also decorating, and other food preparation. . .

But all that really matters is that the party was a huge hit with Lil C.  She loved the balloons. . .

She loved all her gifts, including her clothes (that's my girl!). . .

She also loved her new car.  Our living room is now a drive-in for watching Elmo's World. . .

And playing with Big I has never been so much fun. . .

The party was indeed a huge hit with Lil C. . .

This post has been brought to you by the monster(s) who have taken over my home. . .

One

Dear Lil C,

One year ago tonight, I was just starting to hit the harder contractions after being in the hospital the entire day.  Finally, at 1:05 am on October 4th, you, my beautiful baby girl, came into this world with your fist curled underneath your chin and my life was once again, turned completely upside down.  In the months leading up to your birth I wondered to your daddy how we would love a second little girl as much as we already loved our first.  I never could have imagined the amazing joy of becoming a parent for the second time, of becoming your very lucky Mama. 

This year has been amazing, full of all those exciting firsts, and so full of love.  You are adored by everyone who meets you.  Your sister adores you completely, even during those moments when you knock all of her blocks over, or decide that one of her dolls makes a fine teether.  One of your favorite things to do is run to the stairs, look back at me and your sister and say, "Go Up.  Go. . go. . .go. . .go" as you crawl up the stairs as fast as you can, so that you can beat your sister to her room and get a prime location in front of her Cinderella vanity. 

You are always up for a game of chase and tickle with your sister.  She spent much of this year waiting anxiously for a chance to hold you, curl up with you on the sofa and stroke your little head.  Now that you're too busy for just lying around, your sister steals the cuddles where she can and often grabs you mid-step to give you a hug.  Although often annoyed with these intrusive hugs, you sometimes return them with a wide open mouthed kiss that sends your sister into hysterics.  Although there will be bumps in the road as you both grow, one thing that will never change is how much she loves you.

Recently, you have become very social and love to wave hello to perfect strangers, even cars that pass by as we wait for your sister at the bus stop or take a walk.  If you're unsure of someone though, you immediately lay your head down and grab hold tightly of my arm and shirt.  I can't help but love these moments, because it's during these times that I'm able to truly cuddle you and hold you close.  Those moments are becoming more and more rare since you've become an expert at walking, climbing, and getting into trouble. 

You are easily able to climb up onto furniture now, and although you have no idea how to go down steps, your ease at going up completely amazes me.  You are also no stranger to innovative thinking.  The ottoman provides easy access to your port-a-crib and I fully expect to see you trying to dive into the crib within the next few weeks.  When there isn't a piece of furniture to assist you in your endeavors, you find other ways.  Books make great stepping stools, and handfuls of Mama's hair makes for great leverage.  At this rate I'll be bald before I ever get a gray hair. 

Although you took your first three steps at about 8 1/2 months, you waited until September to start walking like a pro. I have to say that I was happy for the delay, because now you are unstoppable in your destructive adventures.  Whether pulling all the DVD's out of the cabinet, finding your way to the bathroom and shredding toilet paper, or dumping every single toy out of your port-a-crib, you do so with great enthusiasm.  Often, on a return trip, you will hold one of your found "treasures" high above your head, swinging the other arm high above your head as well, and your daddy and I can't help thinking that you would make the orangutans at the zoo very proud.

In recent weeks I have caught you "reading" to yourself and flipping pages with ease.  Although in the beginning, only "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" would do, you have now expanded your reading tastes to include some of your sister's books too, and Elmo is always a welcome treat.  Speaking of Elmo, you adore Sesame Street and say "Elmo" with ease.  I am hoping that all the hard work of turning our house into the backdrop for Elmo's World this week is a hit with you at your party. 

You seem to have an amazing grasp of language already.  Your daddy and I were shocked when you sat up in bed last weekend, waved, and said "hi da".  We were also amazed at your interest in the pantry closet's contents, particularly the jars and bottles of spices.  One of your favorite past-times is requesting that I open up the vanilla extract so that you can take a little sniff.  A few weeks ago, after hearing me say it for the 100th time, you repeated back "wanilla" and I about fell over.  Because I didn't believe it myself, I called your daddy and let him listen to you repeat it over the phone.  We laughed because you sounded so incredibly cute and you laughed too. 

You've also become very proficient at baby signs and have decided that the sign for "more" applies to so much more than just food.  Often, after reading you a book, you will look up with those big beautiful eyes and smile a little smile that shows how proud you are of yourself and tap your palm with your pointer finger.  More stories please, and who could resist?

As I count down the hours until you turn one, I am a little sad that this first year is over, and that it has gone so fast.  But I am also excited about what the coming year will bring.  This year has been so much fun as I've watched your personality grow and blossom into this adorable and fun-loving little baby girl.  You are so filled with joy and excitement when you do something new and have no problem giving yourself a round of applause, which sometimes turns into a spirited game of patty cake.  Your smile, now with six teeth, has the ability to light up the room and especially my heart. 

You are an incredible little miracle who has made my life so happy. I can't wait to see what is yet to come. 

   

Happy 1st Birthday!  I love you with all my heart.

Love,

Mama

The Letter I Did Not Write

September 11, 2006

Dear "Mrs. M.",

"Big I" is my first child in school so I'm pretty new at this.  I wasn't sure what to do even though I strongly knew what I felt like doing. . .

. . . but I wanted to make you aware of what happened today. Big I had a problem on the bus.  A girl named Spawn of Satan Suzie blocked her from sitting with another little girl on the bus, and when Big I sat down anyway, little biotch Suzie then used her body to push Big I off the seat.  Big I ended up sitting by herself and when she got off the bus she was very upset and I was freaking livid and thought I was going to need some blood pressure medication immediately to keep myself from turning into the Incredible Hulk. 

I just wanted to make you aware of this since Big I tells me the hateful wretched little brat Suzie is also in her class.  Big I said that the bus driver did not see what happened.  However, when there are only a few children on the bus I would like to think that he would see what was going on, especially before the bus was in motion as the kids are getting seated.  In other words, why the hell wasn't he paying attention???  AND, he better be paying attention from now on or else I'm going to take care of business. 

I have talked to Big I about what to do in this situation should it happen again ("Firmly tell the little brat not to ever touch you again, and then if she pushes you again or tries to get in your way, you have my permission to take her down any way you know how."), but I would like to think that this will be the first and last time or else I'm going to get on that bus myself and personally crack some skulls. 

If you could please let me know who would be the best person to contact regarding issues with the bus so I can scream my head off at them and take my frustrations out on them, I would greatly appreciate it.  I didn't want to speak to the bus driver when he drops Big I off, because I'd prefer not to discuss it in front of the other demonic monsters kids.  Thanks so much for your time. 

Sincerely,

One seriously ticked off mama "Black Belt Mama"

Big I has been going to Kindergarten for six days or so and she has been doing fine.  Each morning she tells me that she doesn't want to go, but she goes and comes home and usually has a couple positive things to tell me about her day.  Last week, she even expressed an interest in riding the bus home from school and she's been doing that for the past four days. 

On Thursday, the bus pulled up to the stop and I was pleasantly surprised to see Big I sitting in a seat with another little girl.  She got off the bus ecstatic and told me that this little girl was her friend and in her class.  I was so happy; as was Big I.

On Friday, the bus pulled to a stop and Big I was sitting by herself.  She emerged from the bus with a smile on her face, but then quickly dissolved into a heap of hurt feelings and told me that her "friend" didn't want her to sit with her.  My insides hurt just hearing the replay.  She said that the little girl told her she couldn't sit with her.  She wanted to sit by herself. 

So, we spent the weekend reassuring Big I and telling her that the little girl probably just wanted to sit alone.  It probably wasn't anything personal.

Yesterday, Big I got off the bus and immediately erupted into the story of how she got on the bus and tried to sit with a different little girl.  The "friend"/bully girl blocked Big I from sitting and then when Big I sat down anyway, the girl pushed her out of the way and off of the seat.  I stopped in my tracks on the way back to our house.  "She did WHAT?"  "Yeah, she pushed me," Big I said and retold the story.  Big I then said, "She doesn't want to sit by herself; she just doesn't want to sit with me."  My heart ripped in half and I could suddenly hear the blood rushing through my head. 

If this were a Seinfeld episode and I were playing the part of George Costanza circa the movie theater episode (and oh how I wish it were), I would have jumped in my car, burned rubber out of the parking lot and followed the bus.  I would have parked as the little "friend" emerged from the bus and then I would have followed her right up to her front door.  I would have told her parent/parents how RUDE she was to my daughter and that I expect that she'll be given a stern talking to, or else.  OR else meaning, I will personally give permission to Big I to take that little biotch down to the ground if she dares push her again.  I would have demanded an apology and not left until Big I got one.

Since this, unfortunately, is not an episode of Seinfeld and I can't have a Costanza moment without being arrested, I told Big I that she does NOT have to tolerate that kind of behavior.  I told her that if the girl dares to push her again she will respond in a stern and assertive voice, "Do NOT push me.  That's NOT nice" and she will sit wherever her little heart desires. 

This isn't just a minor little bus issue.  You see, Big I comes home and decides to take out her frustration on Lil C and me by not listening and by pushing and being bossy with Lil C.  I don't tolerate it in this house, and Big I does not have to tolerate it on the bus. 

I swore back when I was a teacher that when I had children I would not be THAT parent.  You know, the one who calls the school and teacher about every little thing.  But I could not let this one go.  I could not let this child ruin my child's day.  So, with the help and guidance of one of my best friends who also happens to be a teacher, I wrote "Mrs. M" the email above (minus the strike-throughs and clip art of course) and got a lovely response back before Big I was even awake this morning. 

"Mrs. M" replied that she will be speaking with "Suzie" personally, and that the principal will also be made aware.  She thanked me for bringing this to her attention and told me that if it happens again I should not hesitate to contact her.  She said she would then call Suzie's parents.  She also said she would personally speak with the bus driver when Big I got on the bus (out of ear shot of course). 

Today, the bus pulled up and Big I was sitting in a seat with the two little girls.  She got off the bus ecstatic.  Apparently, Suzie had been summoned to the principals office.  The teacher also reminded Suzie as they were lining up for the bus that she needed to be nice.  When Big I got on the bus, Suzie asked Big I to sit with her.  She was nice to her throughout the day.  I hope this is the last issue with this particular girl.  I am so thankful that Big I's teacher is so awesome. 

What I can't help but wonder though is why little girls are so mean?  Big I doesn't have a mean bone in her body, as evidenced by her refusal to hit anyone while sparring at the dojo because she doesn't want to hurt anyone or make anyone sad.  I can't be the only one raising my children to be kind and compassionate, right?  So, where are the other nice little girls?  And since when did Kindergarten become so catty?