I don't have a backyard. Or a porch. Or a rooftop deck. But that's ok, I am flexible, I make do with what I've got. My favorite summer activity is to sit on my Brooklyn stoop, drinking a cold beer and watching the world go by. I could do this for hours. So here I am, hanging out on my stoop on a balmy Sunday evening. And then I go upstairs to get some food and when I come back there is a dude sitting there. So I sit down next to him. And he stays there! And now here we are, me and this dude I don't know, sitting on my stoop just staring awkwardly at our phones. And its a really small stoop. F--king hipsters. And then I think, what is the proper etiquette in this situation? I mean he was there first. But it is the stoop attached to my apartment building. Do I ask him to leave? Do I go back upstairs? And then I publish a Facebook post about him. Really. I am sure you saw it. And then I think, this dude, who I do not know has now been the subject of my Facebook
Posts
Those of you who have been training (in karate, jiu-jitsu, or anything really) know how frustrating the roller coaster can be. You have a good session, one of those magic times where every move seems preordained and perfect, followed immediately by the worst class ever , the one where you can't do anything right and you rue the day you ever put on a gi . And that is just when you are actually training. Then there are injuries, illness, and those annoying times when your boss or your kids or your spouse actually require moments of your time. (Not my spouse of course, who never needs to go out ever, and who agrees that all free time should be spent working on arm bars.) If you are like me, your training is a lifelong pursuit. So a few days (or weeks) off should be no big deal. right? Time to catch up on Dance Moms. (Or Game of Thrones if you prefer a different breed of horror show. ) But despite being a career martial artist, one who has been putting on a gi for so long it feels
Last night, at bedtime, as I cuddled under a blanket with my sweet little girl, breathing in the scent of her freshly washed hair and feeling all the love in the world, I said this: "I am so so happy to have you and I would never ever trade you for anything in the world." And then, perhaps due to the glass of Cabernet I had drunk with dinner or maybe the bittersweet tone that accompanies the end of the school year, I said "Do you want to know all the things I love about you?" Who doesn't?? "You are kind. You are smart. You are loving. You are beautiful. You are sensitive to how others are feeling. You are funny. You are creative. You work really hard and always try to do your best. You are talented. You are strong." Maya, who had been counting on her fingers the whole time, grinned at me. "Mama that's 10 things!!!" I then told her how so very proud of her her daddy and I are. Next week is Maya's last week of Kindergarten.
I think there is probably one thing we all, both women and men alike, can agree upon; the stereotype of the bumbling dad has got to go. You know, the guy struggling to open the stroller with one hand while the baby screams bloody murder in the other. The guy staring blankly at the diaper tabs. The dude sleeping on the couch while his toddler eats paste. And so on. I am not saying this idiot does not exist in some households. But if he does, it is only because we are giving him water and sunlight and allowing him to thrive. It is only because we have accepted him. For some reason, while our society expects moms to be superhuman machines, running a board meeting while folding laundry and baking lasagna with a baby latched on to our boob, our expectations of men are pathetically low. As in, just show up low. F--k that! Do you know who the good parents are? Usually just the ones who put in the effort. So yes, if you are a dad who really does only manage to see his kids on Sundays yo
In November of 2004, my karate instructor passed away and my husband and I were offered the opportunity to take over the Upper Westside Kenshikai Karate dojo. At that time, the lease on the old space was up and the landlord had zero interest in continuing to do business with karate people. So we squatted for a month or so, having classes in a space that was no longer ours while frantically scouring the neighborhood for For Rent signs, waiting for the inevitable day when we would show up to a locked door. Finally, we found a yoga studio nearby that was willing to rent a room to us and we moved a few blocks down. It was within days of being evicted. Literally. As in the day after we moved, there was a notice stuck on the door. We did not take over the old dojo because we wanted to run a karate school, although both my husband and I had been assisting with classes for quite some time. But after Shihan William Oliver passed away, all we really cared about was keeping the group together,
Today my daughter hit a man in the head with a rock. She didn't mean to of course. We were out and about in Dumbo, one of our favorite weekend hangouts, just chillin by the river, tossing rocks and watching the waves from the ferry boats crash. It was lovely and serene and all kinds of familial bliss until... "OW! She hit me!" "I'm so so sorry". From my husband who instantly rushed over to see if the man was ok. "Maya go apologize." From me. Maya, still shocked, walked over to the poor dude and said what I thought was a very mature and heartfelt apology. "Sorry." "I'm really really sorry." That's my man again, the karate and jiu-jitsu guy. Who says fighters are jerks? The wounded guy, to his credit, did not get angry. Instead, he said it was ok and just walked away, rubbing his head and looking completely bewildered. I guess it is not every day that you get hit in the head by a five year old. Unless you ha
There are few better places to observe multiple martial arts teachers in action than at a competition. They parade around gyms like peacocks on display, all colors and logos and weird mannerisms. Like the guy who bows to everything; his peers, the judges, his belt before he ties it on. (No I am not making this up, I have seen this happen!) And the guy in the track suit. I mean really would it hurt to put on a button down shirt. Or at least a t-shirt with the logo of your school. And what about the guy who can't stop kicking and stretching, even though it is his student out there on the mat, not him. He has not competed in at least ten years. And then there is the guy I saw at a local karate tournament yesterday, who spent a hour judging kids point fighting, with one of those leg bands that boxers wear between their ankles to control their stance. While judging small children. As if he could not bear to miss one moment of his own workout. Don't get me wrong, I have obse