MAMA: Adventures in Martial Arts and Motherhood

Welcome to the latest installment of "The Things that Lazy Parents Will Pay For." Yesterday, in the New York Times Home & Garden section:  http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/27/garden/eat-drink-be-nice-teaching-children-manners.html?hp&_r=0 . Apparently manners and etiquette classes for children, some held in fancy restaurants, are becoming more and more popular. Says the article " These etiquette experts say that new approaches are needed because parents no longer have the stomach, time or know-how to play bad cop and teach manners. " Really?? Hey parents, news flash: this is YOUR job! Stop outsourcing every part of parenting that is too difficult or time consuming for you to handle. Sure you can pay someone $285 to teach your kid how to be polite. And while you are at it , why not pay them to teach your kid how to walk, talk, eat, read, write, love, play...hell, why not just hire someone to do ALL the parenting for you?? I understand that parents are workin

I had big plans for the holidays this year. I wanted them to be joyful. And meaningful. I wanted us to create family traditions that would carry Maya into adulthood. So we decorated a tree. We hid the elf every night. Despite having a realist for a five year old, we played coy about Santa. This did not stop her from pointing out, in the blunt way that only a kindergartner can, that her presents are bought by mommy and daddy. With money.  In  lieu  of gifts for each other this year, Matthew and I decided to give some money away to people who needed it more. So all week I have been wandering around the streets looking for ways to rid myself of the dollars in my pocket. For some reason, in this city where there is always someone begging for change, I have had trouble finding anyone. I guess I will keep it up until the New Year.  Yesterday was looooooong.  All day, Maya alternated between bouncing on her toes in excitement and impatient whining.   There really should be school on Chris

This week Maya had a homework assignment where she had to make a family tree. One of the parts of the project was to fill out a little questionnaire about herself; where she was born, who was in her family, and what her favorite things were. Maya likes an awful lot of things. But it is December and in December all roads lead to one place: presents. Which is what she wrote on that last line. Presents and art. At least she wrote art. I tend to be a bit Grinch-like around the holidays. Not that I don't like Christmas. Actually, I love the twinkling lights everywhere and I am a sucker for a bunch of kids singing Silent Night. And this year I even broke down and bought that damn elf on a shelf. Our elf is named Gloria and so far she has popped up in a bowl of M&M's, playing Dominos in our living room, at Maya's school holiday concert, and riding a toy boat in the bathtub. And I'll admit it, hiding her is kind of fun. Not that Maya believes any of it. We kind of mes

I kept my daughter home from school today, not because of the horrors of Friday morning, simply because she had a fever. But I am not going to pretend that there wasn't a tiny bit of relief in having one more day at home with her, one more day where I do not have to drop her off at school and say goodbye. I am not worried about school shootings. As horrifying as Newtown was, I know the reality, I know how rare these things are, how incredibly unlikely it is for anything to ever happen to my own child. But I am a mother. And as a mother, when you hear about children being hurt you can't help but want to hold yours a bit closer for awhile. In the wake of the terrible tragedy of Newton, CT, everyone is talking about protection. How can we better protect our children. How can we prevent this from happening again? In his powerful (and hopefully history making) speech last night, President Obama said, " Can we honestly say that we’re doing enough to keep our children — all of

Whenever I see this sign in the subway station I think of the Harry Potter movies and Hermione's urgent voice reminding her friends that the staircases at Hogwarts change. I was always impressed by how camly everyone just accepts this fact. Yup, that staircase that you were currently climbing, en route to your nice warm common room, well now it goes to an abandoned floor with a scary monster on it instead. Good luck. If I were on my way to the 6 train and instead ended up in a dungeon fighting Lord Voldemort someone is hearing from my lawyer. It is an interesting metaphor, this idea of the ground shifting under your feet, when the path you are on suddenly leads you somewhere other than where you had intended. It happens in life all the time. Sometimes it is a horrible train wreck, one that entirely obliterates the track in front of you so you have no choice but to climb and claw your way out of the wreckage and make your way on foot. Other times you can see the bump ahead and at

Last year, there was no Thanksgivikkah. Hannukah occured during its normal time of year, somewhere around Christmas. And on one cold December day, as I was walking home from the L train, a nice Hasidic man stopped me. "Excuse me, are you Jewish?" Now it just so happens that as far as the Jews are concerned I am Jewish. But since I am of the belief that you should not claim ownership of a religion that you do not actually practice, I do not agree. However, this nice Jewish man was handing out free menorahs to all Jews who happened to be walking down Bedford Avenue. And Maya had been learning about Hanukkah at school. She has Jewish cousins. She even went to their house one year for a wonderful party with dreidels and latkas and all. Don't believe me? Here they are, gambling for gelt: See how Jewish I am?  I think Maya would like to light some candles. So I told this to the guy. "No, I am not Jewish. But my daughter is learning all about Hanukkah this year. I thi

A little over two weeks ago a letter came home in Maya's backpack asking for donations. Her school is embarking on an absolutely AMAZING project. From the website: " PS 84 is partnering with New York Sun Works, a non-profit organization dedicated to bringing the concepts of urban sustainability and environmental science to NYC’s schools to build a state-of-the-art science classroom on the roof of PS 84. "  Pretty awesome, right? Then, a few days later, I received this  in my email inbox : Dear Parents: We have embarked on a very ambitious fundraising effort to raise money for our Greenhouse Classroom project. It is absolutely necessary we raise $100,000 by the end of December, so we can move this project ahead. We need everybody's participation in order to make this happen. You can help by volunteering in the events we are planning or by sending money with your child's backpack. No amount is too small or too big.  It is  "absolutely necessary

On Monday evening, I covered Maya with a fuzzy blue blanket, gave her a big hug and kiss and said goodnight. This is part one of a bedtime ritual that often includes being called back at least twice for extra hugs, a redo on the covers, a random thought, or sometimes "Mommy I had a bad dream." (My daughter does not seem to know the difference between an actual dream and a scary thought she has while lying awake in her bed. Or she just wants me to come back in...again.) I turned the water on for a hot bath, tidied up the couch cushions and was about to undress when I heard it. "Mommy?" "Yes Maya." I poked my head in through her doorway. "What is Hanukkah?" "Hanukkah is a holiday that Jewish people celebrate." "But what  do they celebrate?" Oh boy. I am not Jewish. (Although if you ask the Jews I most certainly am Jewish, since my mom was raised Jewish. Please don't get me started on this. ) But I think I get Hanuk

“First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they fight you, and then you win.”  ―  Mahatma Gandhi This morning when I showed up for drills class there was a woman I did not recognize stretching out on the mats. I don't know if she was brand new (I only attend daytime classes so there is a whole group of students I have never met) but she was a white belt and she was new to me. I gave her a shy but friendly wave and went into the changing room where I discovered she had put her bag in my usual corner. Damn that new girl! Now she is my enemy! Time to x-choke her! I am joking of course. Not about the x-choke, we did do those today, but about my instant hatred of her. In actuality, I was thrilled to see another woman on the mat. I did not partner up with her though. Instead I went with my usual Monday partner,  a good friend of mine and someone who I am completely comfortable with. Should I have sauntered up to the new girl, introduced myself and instantly volunteered to t

My mouth tastes like the dentist. That sounds lewd and inappropriate but trust me, it isn't. I have a fake tooth that is attached via a metal bridge-thingy to two neighboring teeth inside my mouth.This is a poor person's implant. When the original tooth was extracted many years ago, I contacted my insurance company to get permission to have a fake tooth put in and was told that they would not cover the procedure. According to the nice Indian guy named "Lance" I already had "enough points of contact." This is dental insurance speak for "Hey lady you don't need that extra tooth. You have plenty of them teeth still in your mouth for the chewing and tearing your steak and whatnot. Who cares if you look like a first grader on picture day?" Since I didn't really want a gaping hole in my mouth, the bridge-thingy (at $1200!) was the cheapest fix. And it works fine, except that every four or five months it comes loose from all the eating I do and

My daughter and I really love each other. And like all BFF's, we sometimes fight. Like little children. Or should I say, she fights like a five year old. And so do I. I am not very friendly in the morning. I wake up fine, but I don't really like to talk much, or do much. Which is why Maya gets to watch TV while she eats her Rice Krispies and I check email, take a bath, have a bite to eat, drink some coffee. I also help her get dressed for school, do her hair, pack her a snack and get myself dressed and ready. But there isn't a lot of conversation and there certainly isn't a lot of playing together. I am not proud of this. I think it might actually be nice to spend mornings drawing pictures with Maya on the couch, or cuddling under a fuzzy blanket. In fact, right now, sitting alone in the dojo, I swear that that is what I will do tomorrow. I swear I will wake up, make us both pancakes, and eat them with Maya while playing school. I should be able to do this. Lots of

On Friday November 19, 2004 I did not feel like sparring. I was tired, or banged up, or feeling lazy. I would rather lay on my couch than get beat up by a bunch of black belts. Whatever. But I was a good student, a loyal student, so even though I was not planning on taking class I stopped by the dojo anyway, just to say hello. After shaking my instructor's hand and apologizing for my laziness, (he understood of course, he always did) I got ready to head home. "Hold on a second," he said. "I have your belt." A few weeks ago, I had ordered a brand new embroidered black belt. My old one, which I had been wearing for over ten years at that point, was starting to look pretty beat up. It was grey, torn in places and had loose black threads everywhere. In other words, it was pretty bad ass! My instructor himself had one of those belts, faded and worn, knotted together, too cool for words. But it was time for a new one, if only so I could take turns wearing them;

There is this boy I know. We'll call him Joe. Joe takes classes at the dojo. He is very strong and very fast, two traits that are constantly on display because Joe is never still. He cannot be still. It seems to hurt him to try. When the other kids are attempting to control their bodies (no small feat for any child), Joe is spinning in circles. Or he is lying on the floor kicking his feet. Sometimes he is making loud skreetchy sounds reminiscent of a pterodactyl. Or laughing at his own private joke. Sometimes it is all too much so he just sits down. But he is a happy kid. He is a nice kid. He likes to draw, to jump on the trampoline, to punch and kick. He really likes to punch and kick. Joe goes to school nearby and he can't sit still there either which is something that schools frown upon. So he struggles. His dad, who seems to be a kind and patient man, is constantly frustrated with him. I don't blame him. If I had to wrangle Joe in and out of a normal daily existence I