MAMA: Adventures in Martial Arts and Motherhood

Dear Ronda Rousey, Thank you.  Thank you for being part of the first women's UFC match ever. Thank you for representing all of us females who train. Thank you for working your butt off so when you got out there on the mat you looked skilled and confident. Thank you for not giving up when Liz Carmouche took your back and almost finished the fight with a rear naked choke. Thank you for making me want to hit the mats and drill arms bars until sunset. Thank you also, for bucking the stereotype, for being beautiful and feminine and showing the world that not all girls who fight look like slightly smaller versions of dudes who fight. I was damn proud to watch both you and Liz out there in the Octagon last night. I have only one small complaint. Next time, please wear a different sports bra. I watched the fight with my husband and two of our closest male friends. Among the four of us there are three current karate practitioners  and one guy who used to train when he was younger. We

I'm sorry I made your kid cry. No, really I am. I am not sorry I was so tough on her. I am not sorry I gave her pushups when she wasn't listening. I am not sorry I threatened to sit her down in the corner if she did not try harder to stay on her spot. But I am sorry that when I finally, after multiple warnings, did sit her down for five minutes she burst into tears. I didn't want that. On the playground nowadays it is often unclear how much a mom should interfere when someone else's kid is involved. "Hey buddy please stop poking my daughter with that stick" is usually acceptable. "Hey buddy please stop poking that other guy with that stick"...well it depends. Are the other moms not paying attention? Is someone clearly going to get hurt? I happen to believe in zone defense, any kid in my line of sight is my responsibility. So yeah, if your little one is about to fall off the ladder I plan to catch him.  And if he is pummeling another kid I plan to

No this is not a post about frozen yogurt. Although I will say that 16 Handles rocks! If you haven't tried it, get yourself there pronto! But this particular post is about jiu-jitsu. And women. Recently a BJJ black belt and instructor named Keith Owen wrote a blog post entitled " Can Women Really Handle Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu"? (http://keith-owen.blogspot.ca/2013/02/can-women-really-handle-brazilian-jiu.html). I think he genuinely meant well.  I think he really wants women to stick with their training. Perhaps he is just not so good at that putting words together thing called writing. I am not going to dispute the things Mr Owen says, except to say I don't think he really intended to come off as sexist and clueless. For an excellent rebuttal to this post, check out this blog: http://jiujiubjj.com/2013/02/19/women-and-bjj-quitting/. All I will say is he kind of missed the point. And he should not talk about pregnancy anymore. Please leave that to the female bloggers.

This morning, after dropping my daughter off at kindergarten, I baked these:  Yes those are Valentines Day cupcakes for Maya's class, twenty four of them. (Yes, I know, there are only 22 in this photo but I promise you I made 24 and no, I did not eat the other two.). A few weeks ago our class moms (the two woman who volunteered to contact all the parents when the teacher needs something) sent out an email asking for volunteers to make cupcakes for the class party tomorrow.  Hence, these. Yes, I made them from scratch, including two kinds of frosting, and even took the time to decorate them with little candy hearts. I did all this because I have the time and I like baking. And then I posted this pic on Facebook because I like bragging. I mean really, why else does anyone use Facebook? Here is my kid's trophy. Here is my beautiful new haircut. Here is me on the beach in Jamaica. Suck it! You never see a Facebook photo of one of your buddies curled up on the bathroom fl

You know those moments when your imagination just takes over? Like when you are sitting somewhere, daydreaming, and random thoughts that make no sense start wandering through your head. Like maybe you were watching The Fast & The Furious again last night and you start wondering what it would be like to steal cars, like maybe that BMW over there, and then suddenly you have concocted an entire scenario in your head and the cops are chasing you while you fly down the BQE at night and its raining or maybe snowing, and the radio is blasting some 80's dance number through your open windows. Yeah, like that. So after drills class this morning, I sat down on the 6 train next to a woman with two bags full of food from Trader Joes. And as she reaches into one of the bags to pull out a handful of blueberries to snack on, I have this thought: If the subway gets stuck between stations for hours and hours, at least I am near someone with food. Perhaps she will share her blueberries. And

 Normally I am not much of a snow person. Ok, that is an understatement. Normally I absolutely despise the snow. It is cold and wet and, since I live in NYC, instantly converts to a black slushy mess the minute it hits the ground. Also you have to shovel. And dig out your car from the giant snow mountain that the plow created. Did I mention the slush? Crossing streets is like hiking through marshland. Cold, snowy marshland. Basically, snow falls and I whine. A lot. But I have a five year old. And we have had a relatively uneventful winter. So this morning I actually woke up excited to take her out in what will probably be the only snowstorm we have this year. We went to the dojo for class and then bundled up in snowpants, boots, hats, gloves and extra socks and headed out to Central Park with our plastic saucer that is what kids call a sled nowadays. (I had an old wooden Radio Flyer with front handles that were used for turning right before you slammed headfirst into a tree.   That

On Saturday mornings I teach two classes, pre-karate for 3-4 year olds, and then a regular karate class for ages 4-6. My normal morning includes a bagel, a cup of coffee, and occasionally some tears. (Usually not my own. The little ones are sometimes moody in the morning.) It does not often involve small animals. Yesterday, however, I showed up at the dojo to find a small bird, tan with reddish coloring, sitting on our windowsill. It was clearly injured (there were a few drops of blood nearby) but still breathing. While I was sitting there staring at him and wondering what to do, my first kid showed up with his dad. Two more were right behind him. They all, kids and parents alike, gathered around the window with me. "What's that?" "It's a bird. He's hurt." "We should help him." Those four year olds were right, we should help him! I called my friend who works for the ASPCA who gave me the phone number of an animal rescue place. They told

Here are five gross things that all you bjj players can relate to: 1. Mystery Blood. You know when you are rolling with someone and you suddenly look down at your white gi and see little spots of blood. Is it yours? Is it his? Does it belong to the other girl you were training with? All action stops as you and your partner methodically search your bodies for tiny cuts. (This happened to me today. Total buzzkill.)) 2. Mystery Hair. This is mostly a no gi problem. Similar to the above situation only there is no searching. Instead you try to pretend everything is normal and then shower immediately after class. (PS: It always, always looks like pubes. It's not of course. That would be disgusting.) 3. That little piece of something on the mat. Ya'll know what I'm talking about. Is it tape? Is it a piece of (ewww) dead skin? Is it alive? No way am I touching it. Lets just roll around it and hope it doesn't attach itself to our gi like a barnacle. Oh crap, where did