Black Belt Mama

9th Kyu in the House

On Wednesday night, Big I was promoted to 9th kyu in Danzan Ryu Ju-jutsu. The week before, she tested and it was so awesome. It was a very serious event and she did quite well. At one point she had to do a hip throw and she did a great job.  

Here's her partner, taking her down with a wrist escape.

 

She was tested on the basic ju-jutsu foundations like breakfalls and rolls, and then demonstrated various techniques for getting out of a finger hold, wrist grabs, lapel grabs and chokes, etc. Here she is doing a hip throw. 

 

And here's some actual video of it happening. . .

 

If pride had the physical properties of helium, I would have been taking photographs from the ceiling. Here she is with her proud little sister right after testing.

 

The big reveal. Sensei removes the blue tape from his gi.

 

Getting striped. . .

 

The assistant instructor and all around cool guy, giving Big I her congratulations. . .

 

The new promotee's. Check out those grins. Check out those blue stripes!!!

  

I am so proud of her and so happy she's found the martial art that is right for her. It's the one thing she looks forward to doing all the time and she frequently talks about how much she loves it.

If she can throw people now, just imagine what she'll be able to do by dating age. . .

Compliments for Me-Actual Learning for Them

I could easily give my students an article or something to read as a class to teach them the skill of outlining. But I don't. Finding an article they would all find interesting, something they could all relate to, is practically impossible. So I do the same thing every year. I write this on the board. . .

"Mrs. BBM is SO awesome."

They chuckle and share some private jokes for a couple seconds. Then I ask them to fill in the details in the form of a graphic organizer. Last year, they were very funny details. This year they were super flattering!

The kids told me I was a "snazzy dresser," and that I had "great hair," and perhaps the best compliments of all were the ones they placed under "great personality," and "funny." They added details under each category like "cute shoes," and "bombshell blonde," and "stylish haircut." When we were finished I had an entire chalkboard full of compliments that any girl would love.

Then we turned our graphic organizer of Mrs. BBM awesomeness into an outline. And I could hear the light bulbs clicking on. They get it now. They really get it.

When I was finished getting flattered, we had a rough draft workshop. I was making the rounds and sitting in on groups, and adding my two cents here and there. And then I got to this one particular girl and her paper on the abuse of animals in the entertainment industry. It absolutely blew me away. I've been telling them that in this argumentative essay, they need to find their voices. But still, I see what they've written and it is usually straight-forward and informational. It doesn't jump off the paper. This girl totally got it. I was so excited about her opening paragraph that I asked her to read it out loud. She blushed the whole time, but you could tell she was super proud of herself. The other kids were silent when she was finished. It was powerful. I knew I had gotten through to at least one person in the class during the past two weeks when I've been pounding it into their heads about developing voice in their writing.

In my speech class I also read her paragraph out loud. My speech class delivers persuasive speeches next week and I've been stressing the need for passion in their speeches and appeals to emotions. I read it and they were, for once, speechless. It feels so good to even reach one student; and my hope is that many others will strive for what she accomplished in just her introductory paragraph.

It is unconventional days like this in the classroom that make me love teaching. Despite the fact that I woke up yesterday feeling horrible, I left campus happy with a boatload of cool compliments AND the knowledge that I had really taught them something.

Head over to The BBM Reviewto enter for your chance to win a $100 Visa card and a cool Sonicare prize package. Also, check out the latest reviews!

Eleven Years: Then and Now

It's 6:05 p.m. on my 11th wedding anniversary. Eleven years ago, I was just arriving at my reception. The weather had been in the 70's all day long and it had been an amazing day.

 

Today, I've just emerged from the shower. Instead of getting dressed to go to a nice restaurant for a quiet dinner, I put my pajamas back on, along with the robe with the two drops of coffee stain on it too, from when I almost spit out my entire mouthful this morning after reading a horrendous student paper and thesis statement that made no sense. It has rained all day long and tonight, we might get snow.

Eleven years ago, I spent hours getting my hair done and doing my make-up, getting in my dress and having hundreds of pictures taken. I was excited and nervous all at the same time.

Today, I spent hours grading papers and chasing after a little girl with a very runny nose and pleading with her to please put her dirty tissues in the trash and to please just sit down and rest. I've been nervous today too, but it's a completely different feeling when it involves your daughters.

Eleven years ago, I was getting ready to have a nice dinner. . . chicken marsala, one of my favorites.

Today, Mr. BBM ordered sandwiches from the local pizza shop. They'll probably arrive while he's retrieving diet coke from the store so I'll have to answer the door wearing my stained robe, flannel pants and slippers with wet hair and no make-up.

Eleven years ago, I was gearing up for a fun night of dancing with friends and family. And man was it fun!

Tonight, I'll curl up on the sofa and probably watch Food Network while I continuously check on the girls while they sleep and pray that their fevers don't come back. Mr. BBM will probably fall asleep on the loveseat. He'll also probably snore.

Eleven years ago, Mr. BBM and I were dressed to kill.

Today, I wear pajamas and Mr. BBM wears homemade "man-pri's" or what I call  "pirate pants," which are cut off mens sweatpants that I used to wear post-ACL surgery because they were the only comfortable piece of clothing that I could fit over my obligatory knee brace. They were too short for him when I was done with them, so he cut the bottoms off and wears them despite the fact that I make fun of him each time he does.

Eleven years ago, Mr. BBM gave me beautiful diamond and pearl earrings and a necklace to wear for our wedding.

Last night, Mr. BBM and I exchanged anniversary gifts. I bought him a Steelers sweatshirt that he has to exchange because it is too small and the Polamalu Steelers jersey that I bought him hasn't even arrived in the mail yet. I just didn't have time to order it this week with all the grading and sickness happening. He bought me an outfit from Ann Taylor Loft, the store that seems to forget that they used to make shirts and sweaters with long enough sleeves for me and pants that didn't look like I was preparing for a flood. What happened Loft?

And more importantly, what happened to us?

 

Oh yeah, it's called a marriage, a marriage with kids. It's not your typical Cinderella story, but for now it's our story.

I'll just pretend my cheese steak tonight is filet; and Mr. BBM can pretend I spent more than three seconds combing my hair today.

Ah, marital bliss.

Inventions, Well Wishes and Free Cash

Last night, Lil C came into our room four times. That's in addition to the five times she came out of her room before she fell asleep. I know she's stuffed up and is having trouble breathing but enough already. Between Mr. BBM snoring and Lil C visiting, I am getting next to no sleep. Lil C then crawled into bed with me this morning and spent two hours touching my face and arm and driving me absolutely insane. Finally, she fell back asleep and is now snoring louder than Mr. BBM has ever snored (Ok, maybe not quite that loud). Clearly she gets that trait from his side of the family.

Big I is looking and feeling much better today. However, she still has a low-grade fever that just won't quit and she says her headache is better but still lingering. I know she's feeling better because she "invented" a white board made out of a piece of notebook paper and a plastic storage bag. Now she's working on creating an eraser. Once she's done that, it's on to the 10 page packet that came home from school yesterday. I feel like I've been homeschooling her the entire week. Now I know why I don't do that. I'd like to state for the record that I personally despise "New Math." It's just wrong. I spent much of this week teaching Big I to check her answers with "old math" which worked just fine for me growing up. Funny that now she gets it. Grr.

I spent last night camped out on the sofa watching DVR'd episodes of "Flash Forward" which is an absolutely brilliant show. If you haven't watched it yet, I strongly recommend you find it online and get caught up. If you're a "Lost" addict like I am, you will love it. I also watched last night's episode of "Project Runway" and I would just like to warn Irina that if she ever runs into me on the street, I'm probably going to slap her or step on her foot or possibly trip her. She is such a jerk. Whatever happened to being so confident that you didn't have to insult other people? Ugh, she's just awful. I hope Carol Hannah wins, just to spite her.

In other news, my karate instructor had hand surgery yesterday for the second time. I know she's at home right now, probably trying to breathe away the pain and doing wonderfully at it, so please send positive thoughts to Mrs. H for tolerable pain and a quick recovery. We will miss you in the dojo Mrs. H! Actually I miss myself in the dojo too. Next week I'm going to try to work on actually getting there twice in one week.

Finally, a bit of good news to share. I'm giving away a $100 Visa card over at The BBM Review. Go check out the Sonicare review and follow the directions for a chance to win the card or a Sonicare Prize package. If you twitter about it or blog about it and leave a link in the comments, you get an extra entry too and who couldn't use an extra $100 these days?

Finally, if you haven't checked out my latest fantasy football column, that's where the laughs are located. Go visit Bulls N Balls and see for yourself.

Have a wonderful, swine flu free, weekend!

The Most Craptastic Week of All

Big I has been home sick all week with suspected H1N1. It can't be confirmed though because her doctor won't even see her.

Lil C seemed to be fine, but this afternoon she broke out in a fever and is now sound asleep on the loveseat, snoring away.

Today on campus, I was scolded for breaking the projector that is attached to the ceiling. I turned it on, off and then back on and apparently doing that breaks them. I got scolded by the IT lady in front of the class and then she sent reinforcements who told me it wasn't my fault and that she is indeed, insane. However, I couldn't help feeling guilty considering the guy had to put a chair on top of a table in order to get up high enough. I took on personal responsibility for his well-being, teaching my class while keeping a death grip on the chair, and figured I could handle being held responsible for killing a projector, but add a media/IT guy to the death count and well, a girl could get a reputation.

This whole week has been complete crap as far as I'm concerned; and now I have a headache which is how Big I started. I will probably spend my weekend, which is also my 11th wedding anniversary, sick.

I'm also really ticked off at my fantasy football team and have written some "love letter" to my players over at Bulls N Balls. I don't know who I'm more angry at right now, the crazy person who accused me of breaking the projector, the stupid swine flu, or the San Fran D/ST.

Just saying their name makes me seethe right now. Argh, just make this week end already.

All the Answers or Not

After the day I had yesterday, I knew I had to go to karate last night. I needed to punch and kick and get my frustrations at the world out. I tried to tell myself I should stay home and take care of Big I, who is home sick for the second day in a row; but then I realized that Mr. BBM is perfectly capable and I had no excuse to not get my butt to the dojo.

Off I went.

Last night, I was the only black belt besides the instructor. At our school, we have so many talented black belts that a new one like me is sort of like being in 13th grade. When people have questions, they go to the higher ranked black belts who have been there forever. They don't come to the newbie with questions; but last night that changed because none of the ones with the answers were there.

Our instructor was going around the dojo and asking each person to do a different waza. A green and brown belt made their way over to me and whispered, "What's mine?" I had to know ten of them for black belt testing. Back in June, someone could pick one and I could do it without a problem. But we don't do waza that often in class. Ask me any kata up to Shodan and I can show you; waza is a different story.

I started with one and mentally made my way up to around six. If I do them in order, I can get them sometimes. If someone shows me the first move, I can usually let my muscle-memory do the rest. Last night, unfortunately, the poor brown belt was pretty much on his own. So was I though, because when my instructor asked me to do ten, I had to ask him to get me started. I don't know why waza are so difficult to remember, but they are so slippery in my brain. They just don't stick around long before sliding off into oblivion. I need to fix that.

With dojo testing coming up this weekend, the white belts were preparing their testing materials. My instructor asked me to take any white belts who wanted to do their material in front of me downstairs. Two little girls showed me their stuff and did a great job. It was nice to teach them little things without having them roll their eyes at me like some of my university students do, when I simply ask them to take out a sheet of paper. I had a good time going over things with them and then went upstairs to practice some of the higher waza.

There are some green belts getting ready to test as well, so we did much of their material which is always good review for me. As the end of class was nearing, my instructor asked me to run the green belts through the first bo kata. We went through it a couple times and it felt weird to be up front, teaching someone else. I'm just never really in the position to do that at my dojo. It felt weird, but it definitely felt good that my instructor handed things off to me a few times. I take that as a huge compliment.

When the class was over, one of the Mom's of one of our green belts congratulated me on my black belt. I haven't seen her since before I tested. This particular Mom and I used to hang out on the sidelines when I was injured. She had ACL reconstruction when she was in college and we used to compare notes. We frequently talked about whether or not it was worth it to come back and risk re-injuring the knee. During the time when I was sidelined, I must admit that I often thought about not going back. ACL reconstruction just sucked so badly that I didn't want to ever risk going through that again.

But last night, as I drove home from the dojo, I gave myself a mental pat on the back. I'm so proud of my comeback; and it's exciting that I am now in a position where I am being asked to help other people reach their goals. There is nothing better than doing that.

The Audacity of People

As I was driving home from campus today, I witnessed a hit and run at a busy intersection. A woman and her young daughter were crossing a busy street, when a woman came screaming around the corner, making a left turn, right into the woman. I was the first car in line to turn right and it was right in front of me. The woman was hit in the legs and the force of it threw her back and onto her back and butt. She never left go of her daughter's hand. The little girl was unharmed, although I'm sure that seeing your mother hit by a car isn't exactly the best thing for a little one.

I immediately threw my car into park and got out. Two other men did too. I screamed "Are you ok?" at her as she slowly got up from the ground.  I reached back into the car and grabbed my cell phone. The other men who were out of their cars were closer to her. I dialed "911." Clearly, she should have been at least looked at. The woman continued to stand in front of the car holding her daughter's hand, as she gave the driver, a young woman herself, a piece of her mind. The woman who hit her never even got out of the car, not when she had initially knocked her down, not as she slowly made her way back to her feet, not at all.

What was even more shocking than the fact that the woman did not get out of the car was that there were cars behind the driver who were beeping. Everyone clearly saw what happened, and you know, who cares? We have places to go, things to do, people to see. . .

Unbelievable.

And then, even more unbelievable is that the driver edged her car around the woman and sped off. I was on the phone with the 911 operator at the time and quickly regurgitated the license number as she sped off. The woman repeated it back to me and I hope to God that she got it. I didn't have time to commit it to memory or write it down. I just read it off and then turned right to try to follow her and make sure I was right.

The 911 operator kept trying to transfer me to the local police but it wouldn't work. I told her everything I could, and that the woman who had been hit was slowly walking up the sidewalk of the same street. I lost the car in a sea of traffic at a shopping center and that was that.

I drove back to the intersection and tried to find the woman and her child to see if she was ok and to tell her that she should really be seen by a medical professional, and to let her know that I had given the police the woman's license number, but she was gone too. I don't know if she went in one of the many buildings for help or if she got on a bus and went back to her life.

All I know is that people completely shock me. It absolutely blows my mind that if you hit someone with your car, you wouldn't immediately get out and make sure the person is ok. It is unfathomable to me that someone could just drive off, because I would never do that. And it's even more shocking to me that someone would have the audacity to honk their horn so that a victim who was just knocked down on the street would move so that they can all move on and go about their day.

I don't understand why people don't care about other people and why people don't possess common decency. All I know is that I am so thankful that I'm not one of them.

On Pooping Animals

After spending some time around some very large horses this weekend at a Family Fall festival, Lil C told me she might like to switch her Halloween costume from a mermaid to a horse or maybe a camel. As we were brainstorming how we could create such a costume, I told her she would have to carry around brown marshmallows and drop a few every couple feet to mimic horse/camel poop.

Both girls thought this was hysterical. Poop, when kids are this age, is always funny. We've been seeing a whole lot of pooping lately after a visit to the zoo and the fall festival.

Then Lil C made it even more funny, "Yeah, then I could pick up those marshmallows and eat them" she giggled.

We definitely spent too much time hanging around at the gorilla exhibit at the zoo last weekend. Entirely too much time.

Mermaid Cookies & Under the Sea Fun

Tonight I'm taking my Mom out for dinner and a movie, but I didn't want another post to go by without sharing Lil C's birthday with you.

I imagine it must be difficult to visualize airplane cookies turning into mermaids, but I swear they did. Here's the photographic evidence.

 

Here's some of the food. The fruit kabobs were a big hit.

 

Here's the starfish bread bowl I made for the crab dip.

 

Here's the other one. . .

 

Here's one of the kid activities. They made "under the sea" things to hang on their bedroom doors.

 

This was a game for the Mer-Dads. They had to eat all the Swedish Fish on their plate and they just happened to be under a huge pile of whipped cream. No hands allowed. They were such good sports.

 

Mr. BBM was a good sport. The man can eat whipped cream like no one's business. He barely even got messy.

 

Here are all the good sports.

 

Of course, the kids needed a turn too.

 

Here's the awesome Ariel cake.

 

And the birthday girl. . .

 

Here are some of the under the sea decorations.

 

More pics of the camel ride on her actual birthday to come!

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Get Rid of the Warm and Fuzzies

Last week, I had a student skip his scheduled speech date. In order to pass the class, students must give all speeches. I also don't allow late assignments. So when he came in my class and asked what he should do about it, I had a decision to make.

I happen to like this kid and think he has great potential; but he is such a slacker right now and he needs to get organized. So I decided to allow him to give his speech a class late for half credit. It's still a failing grade, but at least he won't have to dig himself out from under a big 0. I told him though, that the only way I was allowing him to deliver his speech was if he wrote a personal improvement plan, a plan that detailed how he was going to get his act together.

Today he came to class on time and with his plan in hand. I allowed him to deliver his speech and with any luck, he will pass this class, probably by the skin of his teeth.

But that's not what I want to talk about today.

What I want to vent about is what was in his personal improvement plan. Apparently, this student has some learning issues and spent much of his high school career being pulled out of mainstream classrooms to be coddled. He says so himself. He goes so far as to say that he was actually "spoon-fed" answers on tests on most occasions and that because of this he entered his freshman year of college without any skills when it comes to getting work done and correctly. Things were done for him in high school.

He is not the first university student I have had with these types of problems; and frankly, something needs to be done about it. We spend so much time in education, stressing the importance of making students feel good about themselves by handing them answers and spoon-feeding them, that we forget that we're doing a huge disservice to these students. When you're used to being spoon-fed, what will you do in the work force? I'll tell you what, you'll fail in that arena too.

When I taught high school, my second year of teaching I was given three special education TAM classes which means that I had a special education teacher in my classroom during those three classes and my students' issues ranged from not being able to read, to having ADHD, to having severe behavior problems. I was at first, very upset about having these classes. I didn't get any special education training when I was getting my Master's in education. I didn't have any idea what to do or where to begin; and personally, I felt it was grossly unfair to my non-special ed students since they made up less than 50% of the classroom and were surrounded by many more special education than state-mandated laws should have allowed. Fortunately, I had a talented teacher in my classroom to help me. She provided accommodations to students, but one thing she did not do was coddle them or give them answers. Because of this, I would sometimes hear students talk about how much easier the other special ed. teacher was to work with. This teacher was notorious for handing kids A's when they did nothing to deserve them. It was extremely frustrating for me and for my TAM teacher.

Having moved on to teach at the university level, I am increasingly frustrated with where education is going. Some of these freshman are completely unprepared to handle the responsibility of a college class. This isn't high school. I shouldn't have to write assignments on the board each day, when they already have a syllabus. It can be a frustrating job of taking them out of the hand-holding attitude they've grown up with to one that stresses personal responsibility.

While I fully realize that kids with learning disabilities and behavior issues need modifications, simply providing them with answers they don't have to work for isn't helping anyone. Self-esteem is definitely important when it comes to education, but shouldn't we be helping students with their self esteem by giving them the tools and resources they need in order to find the answers on their own. Isn't this actually what education is intended to be? Isn't the feeling kids get from actually accomplishing something on their own better than us lowering expectations and still patting them on the head?

I'd like to know when special education became a warm and fuzzy thing where instead of teaching kids alternate ways to get to the answers, we decided it's best to just hand them the answers. There is a trickle down effect to this that is bringing students into universities unprepared. And if students go directly from high school to the job market, then what?

One may think that I haven't experienced any issues with my own kids, and therefore can't speak to this issue; but that is simply not true. In 1st grade, Big I was pulled out of class several times a week to get extra help with reading. She didn't like being pulled out and I didn't like it either. I fought it her entire Kindergarten year and finally gave in during 1st grade. She was behind the other kids when it came to reading. She needed to get caught up. After a couple months of extra help, she was able to stop going to the reading resource teacher. The teacher, although tough at times, didn't hand her answers. She taught her better ways to read and Big I got it. She didn't get a sticker every week; she got one only when she had done really well. It paid off. Now in third grade, Big I is one of two kids in an independent reading group. She doesn't need guided reading because her reading comprehension is off the charts. I recognize that kids need extra help sometimes; but they need the right kind of help to really get somewhere.

I've heard a lot of talk recently about extending school days and extending the school year. Maybe instead of adding more time to the school year, we should be changing what happens in the classroom during the hours they are there. Ten hours of handing kids the answers isn't going to be any better than eight hours of doing the same thing. However, eight hours of actually teaching kids with learning issues how to work more efficiently and find the answers on their own is going to benefit not only the students, but future employers and our country as well.

The dumbing down of American students has to stop if we want our country to be successful an competitive. Instead of lowering expectations, we need to raise them and help students find ways to get there. Spoon feeding is for babies, not grown-ups; and something clearly needs to change.

Not That Black Belt

Before I tested for my black belt, I already made up my mind. I wasn't going to be the black belt that gets the belt and then drops off the face of the Earth. Coming up through the ranks, I had seen that happen. There were several people who would test, get their belt, and then only show up occasionally. Sometimes when I asked them questions, they couldn't give me an answer or remember a kata. I didn't want to be that person.

Yesterday I realized I was quickly becoming that person.

I hadn't been to the dojo in two weeks and I was missing it. However, once you miss a class or four of them, it's difficult to get back on the horse. I was talking about this phenomenon with my students yesterday who were concerned about another student who hasn't come for the past three classes. They couldn't understand his behavior, but I can.

What happens is simple and it happened to me my freshman year as well. You miss one class and then when the next class comes up, you don't want to go because you're afraid you'll be called out or that you missed something important in the class you already missed. So you don't go again. Now you've missed two, so missing the third class is even more likely because now you're a week behind! It's easy to fall into a bad pattern.

I didn't want that to be me either. It felt lousy as a college student and it feels no different as an adult.

I quickly ate some leftovers and told Mr. BBM that I was going to both classes last night. Tuesday night is really the only time this is even an option for me since it's the one day that Mr. BBM works from home. I haven't attended a Monday night class in months. Asking Mr. BBM to work an entire day, drive an hour plus commute, and add on top of that an extra 20 minutes to get to the dojo to pick up and take the girls home so I can stay for class just doesn't seem fair.

So for once, I arrived at 6 to take the early class and I was glad I did. Warm-ups were brutal because I am out of practice. We did about 140 jumping jacks to start and I thought my left calf muscle would be rendered useless for the rest of the class. Thankfully it wasn't. This marked only the second time that when we lined up to rei in, I had to take my spot where the yudansha stand. Being the only other black belt in attendance at the early class last night, I was the only one in this spot and it felt weird. Thankfully, I knew what to do for the rei in. The Rei out was a different and embarrassing story, but you have to learn somehow.

We worked on basics for the entire first class and it felt good to get back to the bricks and mortar of training. We have so many new white belts whose names I didn't even know so it was nice to attend the early class and get to know them a little better. The best part of the night had to be thrust kicking the bags. It felt so incredibly good to really kick something. Although training for my Shodan test was intense and almost every night of the week in some way, shape, or form, I can honestly say that I miss it. When training every night, you can feel yourself get stronger and better at what you're doing. This two weeks in between classes has got to stop for me.

When the night was over, I was drenched in sweat and felt completely exhausted but good. I doubt anyone else noticed (Thank God) but during the two hours of training, I had hit myself in the face once when I got confused during a moving drill, and I cracked myself on the head with my tunfa too. This is what happens when you're not there on a regular basis, and when you're exhausted to begin with.

Exhausted or not from trying to mold resistant university students into responsible hard workers, I have to make more of an effort to get into class. I felt like I was neglecting my family and other responsibilities during those few months leading up to the shodan test, so there has to be a balance when you have a family, when you're a mom and also a teacher. But I also know that I'm a better person when I train regularly.

Oh, and I know, I know, I know. Pictures of Lil C's birthday and the infamous mermaid cookies are to come, probably tomorrow.

Awesome Is as Awesome Does

When you can make the result of an airplane cookie cutter look like a mermaid for Lil C's "Under the Sea" party this weekend. . . you're pretty awesome.

When you're in solid second place in one fantasy football league. . . you're pretty awesome.

When you're in dead last in another league. . .

If you're in the same boat, you should go commiserate with me here.

Everything AND the Kitchen Sink

Yesterday Lil C and I made about eight dozen cookies for her birthday party this weekend. Today, I got home from campus and got to work. I made about 80 chicken rolls, chopped up all my vegetables, made loaves of bread shaped like starfish for a vegetable dip bread bowl, made icing to decorate those eight dozen cookies, and got the girls and my Mom to decorate all of the cookies.

As I sat down after dinner tonight to take a breather, my under-mounted kitchen sink dropped completely out of its place. Mr. BBM and I sprang into action, him holding the sink up, and me trying to get everything out from underneath it while we both tried to figure out how to prop the thing up so the pipes and garbage disposal wouldn't break. Mr. BBM eventually got a tri-pod to hold it up; and then I freaked out.

How the hell am I going to get ready for a party on Saturday when I'm expecting about 50 people. . . without a sink?

I told Mr. BBM to call every number we had for our counter-top/sink people and he did, each message becoming more frantic as I said in the background, "We don't want to SCHEDULE AN APPOINTMENT! WE NEED THEM HERE NOW! TONIGHT!"

Within a few minutes, we had a call back and they are coming tomorrow morning. I should be able to use my sink in about an hour, they said. Apparently if the plumber doesn't let it sit long enough, it can mess with the seal. Also, the board that was supposed to hold our sink up in case of the seal failing was barely screwed into the cabinet. That will get fixed tomorrow too.

With any luck, they'll be here bright and early as planned, and I won't have to wash dishes in my clothes washer or perhaps my jacuzzi tub in preparation for and at this birthday party.

On Closing That Door

When you have a plan in your head of what your life is going to be like, it's sometimes difficult when things don't turn out quite like you had planned. At one point in my life, I wanted to be a lawyer. I thought, at the time, that I was too busy for kids. My husband would be the stay-at-home parent and I would be the bread-winner. When my political science class didn't go as planned, I trashed that plan and only occasionally look back and wish I had that law degree. I'd never wish not to stay home with my kids though. That change to plans is one I don't ever question.

When Mr. BBM and I started our family, I set out with the intention of having three children. I didn't care if they were girls or boys. I just wanted three. Mr. BBM is one of three children and I loved the feeling of an extra sibling in the house. I grew up with just me and my sister.

But when I was a couple months pregnant with Lil C, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Suddenly I was regretting my decision to even have a second child. For some people, gestational diabetes isn't a big deal, but for me, I knew it could be potentially devastating.

When my Mom was pregnant with her second child, she got gestational diabetes too. Hers, however, did not go away. My Mom is a Type 1 diabetic with an insulin pump and has been for the past 30 years. Growing up, I would come home to find her unconscious sometimes, having gone into insulin shock from a very low blood sugar. She was in a serious car accident one time from another low blood sugar. The life of insulin shots and constant blood sugar monitoring was not one I wanted.

I spent my entire pregnancy fluctuating between being excited about the baby and just wanting the baby out so I could (hopefully) stop being a diabetic. Thankfully, my diabetes went away after pregnancy. I felt like I was granted a reprieve and so did my Mom.

My plans to have a third were shattered. Taking the chance of the gestational diabetes coming back and staying seemed too great. Did I really want to subject my kids to some of the things I dealt with growing up? The answer was a definite "no." My Mom, an RN, felt the same. "Don't take that chance. Don't do it" she's told me on more than one occasion.

So with plans for a third gone, the question of why I was keeping all this baby stuff kept coming up. I have a basement full of beautiful baby clothes and bassinets. Things I won't use again, but I can't seem to part with. Mr. BBM doesn't get it and just wants the stuff gone. For me, each little piece of clothing holds so many memories. They are physical pieces of my children's baby years that seem to bring me closer to that time in my life when I had a baby on my hip. Maybe it's because Mr. BBM has always worked full time and he wasn't here nearly as much as I was with them. But no matter what he thinks or feels about it, it's difficult for me to say "I'm done" and get rid of the things that represent a time I so loved.

I don't know what made me do it today, a week before Lil C turns four, I guess it was because I know she'll be getting some new clothes for her birthday and I needed to make room. Cleaning out the things from her closet that she wore in the past year didn't seem so hard. I kept a couple items that were her favorites (or mine) and put the rest in bags for her friends. She was happy to help me. I figured since that had gone so well, I'd go through some 12-18 month stuff for my neighbor, a little girl I adore.

While going through the containers, I had the hardest time. I had to keep stopping and taking a deep breath. I'd put something on the pile to give away and then decide I just couldn't do it. It was the closest thing to torture I think I've ever experienced. I did it though, and made my way through the three containers. I parted with about 40% of it and that was a huge accomplishment for me.

Because I knew that if it stayed here for one more minute, it wasn't going to happen, I immediately went down the street to deliver it. It was when my friend looked kindly at me and said, "Are you sure?" that I lost it.

I have two healthy children and came out of a scary pregnancy unscathed, but wanting another little person in your house and not being able to have it is devastating emotionally. During the day to day, when you can occupy yourself with other things, it's not a problem. But when you force yourself to go through these things and get rid of what represents what you wanted your family to be and it won't be. . . When you're taking steps that say you've accepted that you're finished with that part of your life. . . it's just really, really, hard.

Campaign Strategy

Because I definitely need another thing to do in my life, I am running for election at our country club to be on the Board of Directors. Over the course of a couple months, my realtor and I had several conversations about it and I decided to run. The Country Club is not your traditional country club. It doesn't have a golf course. It has a club house and two great pools, and there's a lot of untapped potential there. My family belonged when I was growing up and I also worked there as a lifeguard for two summers before college. It's been pretty much the same all these years, minus the addition of a second pool.

Right now there seems to be a huge divide. There are the people who have been there forever whose activities fill the montly newsletter with bus trips, fashion shows and dances to music my grandparents would appreciate. It's a wonderful social outlet for them, but it doesn't attract the younger families who join primarily for the pool in the summer. Then there are the younger families, many who live right across the street from the club (like I do); and I think I can speak for us all when I say that we wish there were more activities geared towards our demographic.

Because I think these two dichotomies can co-exist peacefully, I decided to run for election. Appointments are for three years and I've heard that it's difficult to get elected. Only members in attendance at the Sunday afternoon meeting are allowed to vote for the board members and it's difficult to get younger families out on a Sunday afternoon.

The newsletter came out this week and there was my name along with five other names. There are five open positions. Even with my realtor acting as my campaign manager and asking aquatic team families for their vote for me, as I sat at the club last night for Wing Night, I told Mr. BBM, "I'm going to lose." I just didn't think that enough people knew who I was or cared enough to come out and vote. How sad it would be if I'm the only one to NOT get elected.

And then my attitude changed.

One of my neighbors down the street, who knows a lot of people at the club, walked out of the bar area and into the dining room and told me she was excited I was running. Then a couple other people said something to me about seeing my name in the newsletter and running. Then I heard that a new friend of mine was talking about me running at a neighborhood breakfast that took place yesterday morning (Thank you A!). And let me just tell you, if this lady is talking about me, people are going to hear about me. I started to feel a little more confident about actually getting elected.

I have a little over a month until elections happen, and I've decided that I need to put in as much face time as possible at the club. I need to get to know the people who don't know me and tell them some of my ideas. If I can be the social coordinator for the dojo and throw cool parties, there's no reason why I can't extend that into a Board of Directors position.

Anyone want to join my campaign? Do you have any suggestions for me on how to get elected? Let's hear your ideas!

Holding My Own

I can't seem to get my life organized these days. We just have entirely too much going on around here. With after school activities four days a week, Saturday swim classes and enough grading to literally bury me for months, I am not managing well. Last night, I had every intention of getting in to train at the dojo and then Big I walked in the house wearing her muddy sneakers and wrecked the kitchen floor. I couldn't leave it; I have white carpet in the rest of the house. I had no choice but to mop and then my mop broke and I had to go get a new part to finish the job. By the time I was done, karate was starting. I had missed my chance.

Because I'm not finding much time for physical fitness or karate, I quit the gym yesterday. Well, I should say that I mailed my notice that I'm quitting and I'll probably have to reincarnate Johnny Cochran to get me out of my membership. I've heard they're a pain like that. Instead of paying all this money to go there, be harassed by trainers and have my kid get sick all the time from the Germ Zone, I went to Dick's, bought a step and decided I have enough equipment at home to do my workouts. And yesterday, they started.

I took Lil C on an hour long walk through my neighborhood and today, I'm breaking out my step and free weights. Lil C said she wants to work out with me. This will be much better than leaving her in the Kid Zone screaming for me. And when I have a few minutes, I can do something here instead of driving 15 minutes to get there. Plus, I'm saving some cash. When my work-outs get stale, I'm going to head over to this new personal training business and get a session or two to get some new ideas. I'm going to see how this works out. I'm hoping it does.

One area where I happen to be holding my own is over at BullsnBalls. I'm writing a fantasy football column over there and am having fun with it. I love fantasy football and am looking forward to doing nothing this weekend except watching every single game. As a writer over there, I have to make picks for college football. I'm not really knowledgeable about college football teams AT ALL. Mr. BBM was going to help me but he's been busy, so I've been picking them myself, based on "a feeling." Head over there to see how I'm doing. I'm pretty proud of myself.

Back to the Stomping Grounds

The University of Pittsburgh is not what it used to be. It has changed so very much since I was there and it made me wish I could hit "rewind" and go back in time a bit. Gone is the old Pitt stadium. Now the Panthers play at Heinz field.

Gone are the tiny band and pathetic sports teams. Now Pitt's football team is currently undefeated; their basketball team was #1 last year and the band is massive.

The student section at the game is no longer a clique-like divided up mish-mash of students. The students seem to be as one, throwing people up in the air, singing songs, painting their stomachs with "PITT" and making enough noise to seriously disrupt the plays on the field.

This is me with my awesome friend. We've been friends since 7th grade.

Thanks to my friend's company being a major sponsor of Pitt football this year, we were given a pass to the VIP tent before the game and we also got escorted onto the field for warm-ups.

That was amazing. Not only are you standing down there where the Panthers play, but the Steelers play there too. Mr. BBM was beside himself with joy. Then we were escorted to our awesome seats in the end zone.

We got to watch an awesome game where Pitt beat Navy, and the fireworks after the game too.

After the game we caught a crazy cab ride to the South Side, complete with cab commentary that made us almost die with laughter. "Can you see that with your brights?" was just one of the cabby-isms. You can do the rest with your imagination. We hung out in various places and had a blast people watching and catching up with one of our good friends from our college days and his lovely wife.

Later, we went back to our free hotel room suites and caught some much needed z's. On Sunday morning as we were heading out, Jamie Dixon appeared. He was in our hotel recruiting a basketball player for next year. I noticed him standing outside as Mr. BBM sat in the car nearby waiting for me and my friend. I told Coach Dixon that Mr. BBM was probably freaking out that he was standing right there and told him what a huge fan of Pitt football Mr. BBM happens to be. He immediately walked over to the car, shook Mr. BBM's hand and happily posed for a picture.

I don't think this weekend could have been any better!

Miles Behind: The Pressure We Put on Kids

I don't talk about it often, because it's a huge embarrassment to me. When I was a Junior in high school, I hoped for a permanent spot on the Varsity field hockey team, but I didn't get it. Instead I got tons of time playing on JV where I worked hard and did a great job, but literally only seconds during many Varsity games. Sometimes those seconds came during the last 30 seconds of the game, as my coach looked back, realized she hadn't played me at all, and would throw me in for an embarrassing stint that made no sense. I think I would have preferred not to play at all.

I worked hard at field hockey, playing on weekends in my back yard and inviting my friend over to hit around with me. I wasn't the best player on the team, but I wasn't horrible either. I showed up to every practice and busted my butt, even when I really wanted to just go home and deal with an upset stomach or a super runny nose. Even when sick, I would be there.

Sometimes I think that if my parents had been at more of my games, I would have seen more playing time. But my Dad had a busy schedule at work and we rarely saw him before 6 p.m. at home each week night. My Mom was busy working too, and running my sister around to her activities. They came sometimes, but they weren't the vocal parents on the sidelines that you see today. They blended into the background, kind of the way I obviously did on the sidelines.

During a playoff game my Junior year, my coach forgot to play me at all and tried to put me in with only 30 seconds left in the game. This was the last straw for me. I already felt like she picked on me unnecessarily and I wasn't going to suffer through another embarrassing amount of playtime. I pretended I didn't hear her until it was too late to sub me in, and I made up my mind.

I was done.

Every girl knew that you had to be dressed and on the field running when she came out of the building to start practice. My friends couldn't believe what I was about to do. As she was about ready to grab her stuff and come out, she found me standing at her office door, completely dressed in my school clothes.

She started having a fit on me and asking me why I wasn't dressed. I told her it really didn't matter if I was on the field or not since she refused to allow me to contribute to the team whatsoever. She started to come back at me and yell at me, but I was done. My body shook as I firmly told her that I worked just as hard as everyone else, and that my playing time was a joke. I told her I was done, handed her my uniform, turned my back to her, and walked away as she continued to yell at me and tell me she'd try to give me more playing time in the next game. I was always respectful to my teachers and coaches, and this time was no different. But there was no way she was going to intimidate me into getting back out on the field. I was so done.

Fast forward to present day.

Big I started playing youth field hockey this fall. She's in 3rd grade and the program just started this year for 2nd graders through 6th graders. The program should be a big boost to the already very good junior high and high school field hockey programs as these kids grow up and get on those teams. Around here, if you don't start a sport by the time you reach your 1st birthday, you're pretty much screwed when it comes to future success and playing time. Soccer programs start at the age of 2. Swimming starts at the age of 6 months. If I hadn't found out about the field hockey program, can you imagine how far behind Big I would have been when she hit 7th grade?

Last week they started scrimmaging. Big I was a wreck. She was so worried about playing the right way and doing a good job. With very little actual instruction on how to play the game, the kids went out on the fields and played six on six. I thought she did a great job for having no clue what was going on. She played somewhat aggressively and I was proud of her.

However, there were two girls on the team, both her age, who were amazingly good. One of the Mom's was serving as the coach for her team as she subbed kids in and I commented about how well her daughter was playing. "Oh," she said, "Yeah well she played on a club league all last year with the other girl."

My heart sank. Wanting to spare Big I the same disappointment that I did, I signed her up for the program thinking she would be ahead or at least at the same level. Once again, we seem to have missed the boat. Clearly, if I don't want her to be warming the bench in the later years, I'm going to need to find out about club hockey, and push her to practice all the time.

The thing is, as a 3rd grader, how is it possible to know what you want to do? How is it possible to not get burnt out from a sport if you start it so very young? What if she decides she wants to play tennis four years from now? Will she get cut because she didn't start swinging a racket when she was three?

I know that sports are great for confidence building, especially with girls. But I can't help but wonder if all this youth sport business isn't setting a huge amount of kids up for major disappointment later in life.

In a couple weeks, I'll be signing Big I up for age group swim team and I'm so afraid that she's already going to be starting miles behind everyone else.

If you had as dismal a fantasy football week as I did, go check out my latest column at Bulls N Balls.

Party Like a Black Belt

On Saturday night, I hosted a party to finally celebrate my black belt. My graphic designer made me incredible invitations that matched my blog design. My good friend and chef extraordinaire helped me create a menu, shopped with me, and ended up cooking throughout the first part of the party (not to mention the days before). My friend and neighbor showed up early to get the bar ready and to serve as bartender for the night. Man, he did an awesome job, as anyone who had one of his drinks can attest.

 

My daughter helped me create paper lanterns with the kanji for "Nintai" (Persevere) written on them (seen hanging from the catwalk above in the picture below.) They were also burning brightly outside all night.

 

And friends and family who played a part in helping me get my black belt were invited. Most attended. Some even took crazy pictures of all of us sticking our tongues out. Thank you Jeff.

 

There was chicken and beef yakitori with ginger, teriyaki and peanut sauces, shrimp wontons (made from scratch), asparagus with sesame oil and black sesame seeds, salad with ginger dressing, fried rice, teriyaki meatballs, vegetables with ponzu dipping sauce, crunchy noodle salad, fruit and vegetable trays, three different amazing salsa's, Japanese inspired snack mixes, enough Wasabi to make your eyes burn, homemade green tea ice cream and an incredible cake that said one word only in addition to the kanji that the cake lady actually wrote onto my icing belt with pretty much flawless precision.

The word? "Finally." The obi even had the seams that made it look like actual fabric and it was three-dimensional and actually looked like a belt was on top of the cake. When Big I saw it she said, "You're not going to cut that right???" It was almost too pretty to eat. Almost.

As guests arrived they were given a white ribbon to wear and throughout the night there were opportunities to get their yellow, green, brown and black ribbons. There were corresponding colored jello shots, Alton Brown's Cape Fear punch with green tea in it and enough liquor to kill an elephant, sake and more.

 

People got really into the rank promotions and by 10 p.m. I was asking my karate teachers to please school people on not asking for rank. I was very excited about how much everyone got into earning their black belts. I do have to admit though, that giving my 8th and 9th degree black belt teachers their "white belts" was just a bit uncomfortable. They were very good sports though.

Everyone seemed to be having a really good time. . .

As I was about to cut the cake, I asked everyone to come into the dining room and I gave a little speech.

 

I talked about Randy Pausch's "Last Lecture." I told them that just as he has a head fake at the end of his speech, I had one for the night too. Several neighbors thought I was going to say I was pregnant at this point. Clearly they had not seen me hitting the punch bowl on a regular basis. My "head fake" was that this party wasn't really for me; it was for them, my friends, family and teachers who helped me in ways that some of them may not have even realized. Then some people said some nice stuff about me and I got all teared up.

 

In attendance were my karate teachers and training friends, my physical therapist and his amazing graphic designer wife, my neighbors who volunteered to watch my girls on a regular basis so I could get out the door to train one more night a week, and friends who continually encouraged me on my journey.

 

We ate cake, consumed entirely too many color-coordinated jello shots, played beer pong and flip cup on the patio until I demanded we move it to the garage because I didn't want to get arrested. . .

 

This would be me "demanding". . .

 

. . . and we eventually broke out the karaoke machine too. And oh my God, the video evidence I now have to ruin people.

I also started a new fashion trend. All the cool girls are doing it. Those would be chopsticks, a required accessory for doing jello shots throughout the night. And I thought I had to work hard for my black belt! Geez!

I spent an entire week preparing for the party that finally ended around 3 a.m. and it was so worth it. For those of you who missed it, who played a role in helping me get to black belt, thank you as well. You weren't here to have the cake, but after I finish polishing it off, I'm going to need all the help I can get just to get my black belt back around my waist. I'll be relying on you once again.

Remembering Wendy L. Small: 2996 Project Tribute

I received an email a few weeks ago from the person who heads up the 2996 Project. It asked if I still cared, and I certainly do. The 2996 Project seeks to remember those who lost their lives on September 11. I participated a few years ago and remembered one of the victims. There is much said about the terrorists who invaded all our lives that day, but little is said about the victims. Maybe it's because there are so many; it's difficult to see them as individuals. As real people who lost their lives, and it's also hard to think about all those who were left behind, who grieve over their lost family members. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, husbands, wives.

Today, I'm remembering Wendy L. Small.

Wendy was just 26 years old and a secretary at Cantor Fitzgerald in the World Trade Center. From the research I've done on Wendy, she was a very well loved young woman. The tributes to her are many.

When I started doing my research on her, I came across an online forum where friends and family of those missing on 9/11, went to post and ask for information. There was a posting from one of Wendy's friends seeking information about her. In her message, she mentioned Wendy's son. Reading that notice was gut-wrenching and I can't even imagine how those days after the attacks must have been for her family, friends, and especially for her son.

Wendy graduated from high school in 1993, the year I graduated. Those who went to high school with her said that she was the one everyone wanted to talk to, that she was always sweet and kind. While working at Cantor Fitzgerald, she also attended school at night. Her goal in life was to make a better life for herself and for her son Ty. While she's not here to watch over him directly, I think that all parents who lose their lives too early have a special seat above to watch over their children.

Today, September 11th, please take some time to remember Wendy L. Small and the other 2995 victims of September 11th.

Adjustment

To say that going back to teaching a class at 8 a.m. is an adjustment would be a huge understatement. I am not a morning person, never have been. The good thing is that I have really great students this semester. They seem to get me, and although I have a couple slackers, we're getting along pretty well so far.

The grading is killing me though. Where are those leisurely days of summer?

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Because Big I is participating in both ju-jutsu and field hockey (and did I mention the girls both start swimming lessons this week?), my training time has been slashed drastically. I'm finding it extremely difficult to get to the dojo. When I was training for black belt, my family made a lot of sacrifices, and I've been doing my best to help out with coaching field hockey and giving everyone enough attention and time. It's a balancing act I'm not good at; I'm very grumpy when I'm not training regularly.

So while I suffer from writer's block or from "this is so boring no one is going to want to read this" self-editing before I even start writing business, I have some suggestions to offer you.

First, check out the reviews over at The BBM Review. I recently participated in a L'oreal make-up review and I did it in honor of Lisa.

Second, my best friend from high school runs a great non-profit called "Drug Free Pennsylvania." They're having an online auction right now and there are some fantastic deals to snag for very low bids. You can check out the auction by clicking here.

In addition, Drug Free PA is also going to do this crazy golf ball drop thing, and you can win some money in the process. It's called a Chopper Dropper and it's a fun and awesome idea. Please go check it out!

If you're into MMA, then you're going to want to check out the new MMA supply website. You can check the site out here and get 15% off anything you'd like through Saturday by using the code "elitebbm."

I guess I did have a little something to say after all. I won't make you wait so long in the future.

Ants in Your Pants Makes a Comeback

Yesterday I did my crazy listening quiz in my Speech class. Last semester I did it out of frustration. The first assignments they turn in always push the limits and not in a good way. You tell them to type it; they write it. You tell them to use Ch. 12 to get the outline format correct; they obviously don't read it. It's frustrating to say the least, especially after you spend 20 minutes in class giving instructions on how to do it.

So I passed out the quiz, which they're supposed to read entirely first, and watched the fun begin. I had a total of two students who got it from the start and did none of the nonsense. Almost everyone else did at least the first five. I had three boys make it all the way to the very end. They actually asked me to time them as they stood up and sat down 10 times as fast as they could so they could write their time on their quiz (See the above link for the actual quiz).

I finally broke my serious look and explained why I do this quiz each semester. I talked about common mistakes on their outlines and how they should at the very least, try to convince me they've done some type of proofreading (i.e. acquaintances is not spelled "aquatenses").  

When all was said and done there were a lot of giggling people in the classroom and I think they got the point. Only the next assignment will tell.

***Head on over to The BBM Review for the latest reviews.

On Kissing Public Safety Officers

Today the world was conspiring against me. I woke up with a headache that made me want to pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep. But I couldn't. Eager students were waiting for me on campus.

I left my house at the same time I always leave the house; but my route to work now included every bus stop in the county right smack in front of me. The main road I needed to take? Yep, you guessed it, down to one lane only with major construction going on.

I arrived on campus at 7:58 exactly and knew I had to hustle. You can't preach about timeliness when you're not timely.

I pulled into the space right in front of the "Faculty/Staff" parking sign and got out of the car ready to sprint. The public safety officer who was parked two spaces over exited his SUV and said, "Miss, this is parking for Faculty and Staff only." I pointed at my parking pass that clearly says "Faculty/Staff" and he looked at me like I was insane.

He quizzed me further. "What do you do here?" he asked me.

"I teach in that building right there," I said. "You're welcome to come join my class if you don't believe me. What? You think I stole a faculty/staff tag or something?"

He apologized for holding me up and I was on my way, but not before telling him, "You know, if I wasn't running so late, I would probably kiss you."

I think that felt better than getting carded.

***If you missed it yesterday, check out my latest fantasy football post over at Bulls N Balls.

Also, please go vote for me in the "Love Your Body" contest. A girl in a gi needs to win!

Taking My Frustrations Out On Lynch

My first fantasy football column just went up over at Bulls n Balls. I wasn't able to hang out at ju-jutsu class tonight and learn some cool new techniques because Mr. BBM was extremely late getting home from work, so I'm taking my frustrations out on Marshawn Lynch. If you are a fantasy football fan, please go read and leave a comment.

Makeovers and Family Art Projects

When our playroom/office/extra guest room got a make-over last weekend, I told Mr. BBM I did not want to paint. When we bought the house, we got the creamy colored walls and white trim. I like that color combination and am still not sure about what colors I want to paint where.

But when we put up all the white bookcases and the black and white desk, I knew we needed something to make it pop. The plan is to also get a small white sleeper sofa (with a removable washable cover). I figured I'd add some bright sofa pillows and curtains.

I went with my tried and true favorite, a pretty blue-green color (curtains and accent pieces I picked up at TJ Maxx) and an apple/lime green (cheap beaded necklaces as curtain tie-backs and accent pieces and a basket from TJ Maxx). I was further encouraged by my color selection when I saw, while googling paintings yesterday, that David Bromsted used exactly those colors in one of his makeovers.

Without paint on the walls though, we needed something bright, so I bought canvases, paint in the colors I wanted to bring into the room, and we all went to work on our very own creation this weekend.

Big I and Lil C went first and they did a great job. Big I's is a tropical flower. Lil C's? Well, that's a little more complicated. We've got storm clouds, the sun, a rainbow, a "tomato" (also known as a tornado), the beach, a waterfall, and her signature.

Here's mine. Big I said it should be in a newspaper or something. I tend to disagree.

 

And here's Mr. BBM in process. Speaking of his process, he decided to forget the brushes after he broke one and instead used his fingers to flick paint onto his canvas. He also flicked paint onto the car, my painting (twice), me, the garage floor, etc. I was not liking his "process." I swear he made more of a mess than the girls did.

His completed masterpiece. . .

When Lil C saw it, he asked her if she liked it. Her response was, "What isit?" Mr. BBM said he wasn't sure what it was, but suggested that maybe it was spiderwebs. "So do you like it?" he asked her. "Um, no," she said. Only later, when he suggested that it might be shooting stars did she say she liked it. However, she continued to ask him what it was every time she saw it for the rest of the night.

Here are all four in the room. Now they just need to go up on the walls.

So here's the room so far. . .

Before:

After: The wall of bookshelves, still missing the lights on the top. They should go up this week.

Before: A pile of toys had nowhere to go.

After: The toys are stored in the doored cabinets, and a tempered glass desk now serves as the drawing, homework, craft area. Plus, the bench lifts up to reveal storage so I can keep all my school stuff in there.

Doing this one room has prompted an entire reorganization of the whole house. It's been busy here but good to de-clutter and get rid of things. It's also so nice that all the toys now have a home!

***Please throw me a votein the Victoria's Secret "Love Your Body" contest. The 1st place person has over 16,000 votes. Clearly I need help.

 

 

  

Proof I Have Completely Lost It

Today I'm guest posting over at Karl's place. It's the Super Summer of Love again and I am second to last. No pressure or anything.

Because my writing creativity has been a bit lacking, I decided to break out the video camera. You should probably just head over there and watch it and then pretend you didn't see it when you see me the next time. My face will probably still be red.

Here are some questions and answers regarding the video. If I haven't intrigued you yet, these surely will.

Who's playing the role of Karl?

That would be Big I (clearly the whole "Napoleon complex" works well with this scenario).

What hooker did you borrow that dress from?

Um, actually, no one. That's my dress. I wore it to a sorority formal my sophomore year of college. No, I can't believe I wore it. Yes, I still fit in it (which is so damn cool). Yes, my mother knows I have it as she actually bought it for me (What the hell was she thinking?)

Why did you pick this song?

This song is one of my absolute favorite songs of the summer. I probably sing it in my sleep.

Where did Big I get those dance moves?

Big I is self Mommy-trained. Clearly.

Why didn't you hit that heavy bag harder?

The bag base has yet to be filled with water because we can't find one of the pieces from our move last year. Ugh. Grr.

Who filmed the video?

Part of it was filmed by Lil C who I trained to hit the record button on a tripod. Mr. BBM, who became extremely cranky about an hour into it, filmed and edited the rest.

What's up with the beach balls?

Um, have you seen Mariah Carey lately? Enough said.

Head on over to Karl's now for the video proof that I've completely lost it, the long awaited second lip syncing video. Enjoy.

And please go vote for me in the Victoria's Secret, Love Your Body contest. A girl in a gi deserves a vote in this silicone world. The number 1 person has over 16,000 votes. I need a miracle and I NEED your votes to get into the top 50!

For Immediate Release: The Highly Anticipated Second Video Hit

Later today, I'll be guest posting over at Karl's place. Mr. BBM, Big I, and I practically pulled an all-nighter to get it done on time. So later today you'll want to check back for a list of FAQ' s about the video and the link to the post where you'll find the triumphant (I hope) return of the lip syncing fool.

(I guess posting this means I actually have to follow through and post it later. Lord help us all.)

Anyone have a guess which song I chose?

Starting Again and a New Gig

Today was my first day back on campus. I started bright and early at 8 a.m. and like last fall, most of my students were already in their seats when I arrived at 7:55 a.m. My first class is all freshman and they came sleepy-eyed and semi-excited, but with a good deal of cautiousness as well.

I thought things were going great and then I asked if there were any questions and one of my students shot her hand straight up in the air.

"I live really far away," she said, "so if someone dies or something at home, I won't be here for a couple days."

The other students looked around uncomfortably. Truly this was a weird "question" to have.

"Well," I said, "it's kind of a bad idea to start planning excuses to miss class and/or deaths to miss class on the first day of class. How about we just play it by ear and see what happens?"

Her face flushed a little bit and everyone chuckled a bit. I didn't mean to call her out but what was I supposed to say? "Well, if someone dies, then by all means, miss as much class as you want."

I mean seriously. Already we're starting with the one dead grandparent per semester. The first day? Really?

My speech class arrived next and they seemed like an interesting and fun group right from the start. We did a silly getting-to-know-each-other activity and one of my new students stood up and demonstrated the oddities about his body. He showed us what ribs look like when you break them and don't get them reset. One word: weird.

He showed us how he doesn't have muscle up in his left pec area and when he pounded on it, he sounded almost hollow. Stranger yet.

He also showed us that he can throw his knee completely out, and then he proceeded to hop in a circle almost completely around his now-thrown-out-kneed leg. Having recovered from an ACL reconstruction and watching that much motion almost made me have to put my head between my knees and find a paper bag or something. Thank God he had jeans on when he did it or I would have been on the floor.

It is definitely going to be an interesting couple of months and not only for those reasons.

A friend of mine started a new blog called Bullsnballs. It's not about bulls balls, so don't be scared. It's actually about sports and stocks, and yours truly happens to be writing a fantasy football column over there as well (to be debuting soon). Please go visit and say hello! Even if you have no interest in stocks and sports, you have to go just to see the design of the site, which was done by my fabulous designer as well. Feel free to link to him with reckless abandon.

And don't forget to go vote for me today too! Please and thank you!

On NOT Bringing Back the 80's

Today I visited campus to make copies galore and hunt for my new classroom location. I start teaching tomorrow at 8 a.m. and didn't want to have to find it while exhausted. I found my room and was very disappointed to see that I have chalk boards. Um, hello, it's 2009 and I wear black all the time. Last year I had white boards and loved it. I think I'm going to just have to teach off of Power Point this year or an overhead because chalk and I are not going to get along. What are the kids going to think when I scratch my nail on the board and vomit right there in the classroom?

My, my, we're off to a good start.

After spending an hour on campus, I took the girls to a couple clothing stores. We were trying to scope out the good ones for our school shopping excursion on Friday with my Mom. Big I has been bugging me to shop at "Justice for Girls" and I've been steering her to Gap, Gymboree and Children's Place instead. She tells me all the kids are wearing "Justice" and that the cool people wear it.

Dude, she's going to third grade. They are too young to be "cool." It's the year that, if she follows in my footsteps, I should cut her bangs really short, dress her in apples and stretch pants with hand prints on them and call it a day. I'm so not ready for "the cool kids wear it" crap.

We browsed through the aisles at Justice and all I could think about was Punky Brewster.

Except looking at Punky Brewster now, I realize she was not even as bad as Justice. Today's Punky, wearing Justice attire, would be like Punky on crack. Justice is just plain insane. There are fluorescent polo tops with attached hot pink ties around the neck, vests in obnoxious colors and jeans that look bedazzled from waist to toe. The colors are blinding and seizure inducing. The graphic t's are near unbearable; and I am so not planning on spending money in that store.

I allowed her to look around, and she pointed out some shirt that looked like a long sleeved white t-shirt underneath an electric blue halter top with silver glitter on it. I almost threw up right then and there. She asked me if I liked it and I said, "no," choosing instead to hold up and smile at a pale blue shirt with only pale blue on it. Very plain, classic, wearable, and not laughable.

Later, on our way to ju-jutsu, I asked her, "So Big I, would you like the clothes at Justice so much if the store was called 'Gymboree' instead?"

She thought for a minute or two and then said, "You know what Mommy? When I got in there, I didn't like it all that much. It kind of looks like rock star stuff, like a costume almost."

Oh Thank God.

On Friday, we're heading to the Gap outlet where I will happily spend money on normal jeans and cute t-shirts and sweaters.

Punky stayed in the 80's for a reason, a damn good one.

***If you're feeling clicky, please go vote for me because I totally don't look like Punky in my pictures.

Summer Serenade Winner

With a winning tally of 17-8, Karl of Secondhand Tryptophan is the Summer Serenade winner! I'll be in touch regarding your prize soon!

Thanks to both Karl and Adam for entering the contest and thanks to all of the voters as well!

Congratulations Karl!