MAMA: Adventures in Martial Arts and Motherhood

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

I talk a lot about momentum and training. A whole lot. So much that I am sure everyone who reads my blog is beyond sick of it. So I'll just say this: These past few months have not been good for my jiu-jitsu journey. First I hurt my rib. Then I got sick. Then Hurricane Sandy happened. Then I had a week of anxiety and insomnia. Then I got on antibiotics to fix the sick and ended up with all kinds of stomach problems. Then my "monthly friend" showed up. (Some friend. Most buddies bring homemade cookies or a bottle of wine. She brings cramps, exhaustion, and a pounding headache that responds to no medicine.) You know what goes great together? A messed up stomach, a headache, a moody, depressed attitude and some dude's knee on your belly. I tried to go to class during this time but it was half hearted and inconsistent. Until today. Today I took my first full class in at least 3 weeks. All the drills. Four full rounds of rolling. And it was glorious! Not because I beat e

I had a specific blog post in mind today. Another installation in the ongoing series of momentum and training. Some complaints about how much antibiotics f--k up my body. The agony and the ecstasy of returning to the mats after a two week hiatus. And something mindless about watching reruns of 90210 yesterday. (Not even the first season of 90210 where Brenda and Kelly are fighting over who gets to keep super sideburn Dylan. No, this was one of the later seasons. The ones with Tiffany Amber Theissan as that evil bitch Valerie. The ones where everyone has graduated high school and college yet are somehow all still together. Awful.) So I had a plan. Then this happened:   http://momastery.com/blog/2012/11/08/hoollliiiiidaaaaay-haaannddssss/ . All it is is a way to help those in need for the holidays. Kind of like a charity registry. If you need something you post it here. And if you want to help someone, you read through the posts and pick someone to help. Wonderful. And easy. This i

Our little family of three has spent a lot of time together recently, with the hurricane drama and the cancelling of school for a week. Maya and I did many many art projects together. We played Mouse Trap and Twister and Jenga and Dominos. We put mats on our floor and did jiu-jitsu. (Ok so maybe that was for Matthew and I but Maya played too!) Here is our hurricane shelter (aka our Brooklyn living room): At one point Maya and I donned fancy dresses and makeup (!) and had a dance party. Honey Boo Boo eat your heart out! We took walks when we could. Late in the week some local parents and I tore down the caution tape on the gate to our local playground and enjoyed an hour of beautiful sunshine and fresh air. We also kept up our regular schedule of classes at the dojo. And I was dealing with my own issues of insomnia, stress and evil antibiotics that made me feel like my stomach was battling a T-Rex.  Still we got by. Some of it was even fun. More importantly, we were amazingly