mermaids

At taekwondo, we were practicing take downs. You are flat on your back and your partner straddles you on his knees as he is punching at your face. The objective is to block his punches, restrain his arms and throw him to the mat so you can get up and kick the daylights out of him. In practice, there is no real contact. We don’t want to hurt our partners, just develop the kinesthetic memory so we could throw and kick the daylights out of a real attacker. Clearly, my significantly larger partner and I messed somehow because he landed on my knee, the “still bruised from getting slammed in a car door” knee.

I hopped over to a bench to quickly apply ice and elevate. During a water break, everyone came over to check on me. A boy of about 1o seemed quite rattled by an injury at the dojo. This boy often has an unusual line of reasoning, so it can be fun to get him going.

Me: No worries, it will be fine. Things like this happen when you get old.

Boy: But you aren’t old.

Me: What makes you think I’m not old?

Boy: You don’t have to dye your hair yet.

Me: How do you know I don’t dye my hair yet?

Boy: You have way too many grey ones.

At that point, he zipped off to class again, leaving me wondering if I was just complimented or insulted.

By all accounts, I should still be sleeping. I never outgrew that infancy stage of needing to eat every 4 hours. Ravenous hunger awakened me before day break. Yesterday’s activities should have me collapsed from exhaustion, but they also worked up quite an appetite. It’s hard to sleep when your stomach sounds like you swallowed a roaring lion. So, I am up before dawn having a pre-breakfast snack before I make our traditional Saturday morning cinnamon rolls. No, I do not make them from scratch. They come from a can because I am not Betty Crocker. We are not a very traditional family, but cinnamon rolls on Saturday morning is etched in stone.

Silly me thought I would not be called to substitute the first week of school. Yesterday, I subbed for a special ed teacher. Another teacher’s child became ill at daycare, so I gave up my planning periods to cover her classes. Despite the back to back class schedule, it was fun to see the students again. It also gave me a chance to see the new 6th graders who moved up from the elementary school.

After school, Hubski and I painted my new sewing room. Trading Spaces has nothing on us. Over the years, we have become quite an efficient team for painting a room. The paint color is called “Oh So Pink” and it is gorgeous. I am teasing the boys that it is Hello Kitty pink. It is actually a very soft shade of rose. I never had a girly room. Growing up, I never lived one place long enough to justify unpacking, much less decorating. I was happy to have a bed. So, in this household full of males, this will be my girly haven.

As if that were not enough for one day, after a quick dinner, I spent 3 hours at the dojo. I got my orange belt, no longer a total newbie. A sixteen year old girl tested for her black belt. Wow! She was very impressive. She broke boards with her hands and feet. She fought off two black belt guys simultaneously. She showed skill with weapons. I pity the boy who tries to get too fresh with her. I might be 102 before I can test for my black belt. I wonder if they take points off because you use a walker?

What’s on the agenda for today? Moving all of my sewing equipment to the new room and setting up the training room. Oh, and let’s no forget, “keeping my fingers crossed that the Ottobre Woman shows up today.”

Some people have asked how I could sacrifice my sewing room for my children.  Don’t mothers sacrifice enough?  What about “me time”?  Quite honestly, I am mostly satisfied with the amount of “me time that I get. Hubski and the boys have always been so supportive of my sewing.  Considering how much they do for me, it seems like the right to do.  Besides, some people who sew have no dedicated sewing space.  I am grateful to have a space, no matter what size.  I will make it work. 

The second big question has been how I, the staunch “no toy guns in this house” mom, could allow my children to study martial arts and weapons.  Well, I still will not buy a toy gun or violent video games.  Due to his physical issues, C cannot participate in most sports.  Much to my horror, taekwondo was suggested.  It took some effort, but I found an instructor who focuses on strengthening the character as well as the body.  After years of struggling thru school due to an undiagnosed learning disability, the discipline and focus of taekwondo kept him from dropping out.  He has devoted his life to helping students use the discipline and training of martial arts to improve their bodies and their minds.  

The instructor’s positive outlook and enthusiasm are contagious.  While the students are stretching, he slips in little life lessons, little motivational chats.  Safety is always the top priority, with fun running a close second.  He is a great role model.  This summer, the boys convinced me to give it a try.  (The class is for teens and adults so I am not the only adult there.)  It is an amazing workout.  In just a few weeks, I have noticed improvement in strength and flexibility.

For us, martial arts training is about physical conditioning and mental discipline.  The classes are an hour or more of using muscles one does not use in day to day activities.  Memorizing the different forms for each belt test is hard, really hard.  It is not about “kill and maim your opponent.”  It is all about learning what you body can do and how to control it. 

It looks like I may be moving again. No, not the whole house, just the sewing room. When we first moved into this house, my sewing room was in the downstairs study. We discovered that being right off the foyer was not an attractive place for a sewing room. Creativity can be a messy process. Since the boys had outgrown the need for a playroom, the bonus room over the garage became my sewing room. We set up the downstairs study as an actual study for the boys to do their homework. We put in bookcases, a large work table, and a computer desk. It has been fabulous to move their homework from the kitchen table to a dedicated space. They can leave out research books for term papers and keep reference books at hand. I took great delight in setting up my new sewing space. My desk fit perfectly in a little nook. There was good light and lots of room for my tables. I painted the walls and put up shelves just where I needed them. Now, I may have to start the process all over again.

The boys have been studying taekwondo for about a year. They enjoy it and it has been good for them, physically and emotionally. As the result of moving to larger space, their dojo is selling off some equipment. Martial arts equipment is expensive, so this is a good opportunity. They need a big space to use this equipment. The boys are now training with martial arts weapons. To practice safely they need a big space. The biggest space in our house, other than the living room or family room, is my sewing room. Gulp.

If we buy this equipment and set up a taekwondo practice room, my sewing room would be moved to a spare bedroom. The room currently houses all those odds and ends that don’t have a permanent place elsewhere in the house. It is a perfectly lovely room, but smaller, much smaller than the bonus room. There probably will not be room for me desk. However, our bedroom has plenty of space for the desk.

The rearranging is all quite feasible. The end result will most likely be perfectly acceptable. We will find a space for everything. What is not appealing is the thought of all the work involved. The boys would definitely be a big part of the process. However, we all know the bulk of the planning, implementing, and organizing would be my job. Hubski has said we would paint the new room, move my shelves, and patch the holes they leave behind. Why couldn’t this have happened at the beginning of the summer instead of two minutes before the beginning of school?

I am tempted to paint the new sewing room pink so the boys will never want to claim that space.