Tap Tap

My kids started taking karate lessons.  We figured we should make it official, as they’d been checking books out of the library about karate and practicing their “moves” on one another for over a year now and it was really only a matter of time before we had to explain a compound fracture or concussion to a suspicious ER doctor.

The only downside to karate, as I see it, is the chunk of my paycheck that will be going toward the class.  But that is nothing compared to the many upsides, at least at this particular place.  The biggest upside, without doubt,  being that we no longer have to parent our children ourselves.

In two classes, their instructor managed to drill into them the four or five major lessons kids need to learn in order to grow up to be decent, productive, happy, self-actualized little citizens.

Listen to your parents, and be grateful for the things others do for you.  Respect all other living things and other people’s spaces and belongings.  Take care of your body and your mind.  Self-discipline in the practice of one thing will translate to a life of happiness and accomplishment.  After getting my kids to stand at attention, respond to him with “yes, sir” every time he addressed them, and maintain eye contact with him and obey his every request for a full hour and fifteen minutes, their teacher explained the principal behind the “guard up” stance that all the students assume when they are not at rest in karate class.

You don’t have your “guard up,” necessarily, in order to constantly defend yourself from physical harm, he told them.  Instead, you practice being in the “guard up” position to remind yourself that in life you always need to have your guard up against negative influence – whether that be your friends trying to get you to do or say things you know are wrong, spending your time in ways that are ultimately harmful or not productive for you, or even to counteract your own negative “self-talk” – the nasty and critical, and often inaccurate, things the bitchy voice in your head says to you.

“Tap Tap,” he barks, as a way of initiating the command.  “Guard up!”  They yell out in unison, assuming this defensive posture, one foot back, fists clenched, and hands and elbows facing forward.  They did not take their eyes off him, not even for a second, and they talked about what he had meant the whole drive home.

Again, this is after two classes.  I can hardly wait to see what they’ll be like after a few months.  I’m thinking humanitarians?  Philosophers?  Future world leaders? People who remember to flush?

 

Carnivore’s Carnival

I don’t write about dieting and weight much…at least not my own.  First of all, I’m feeling self-conscious merely writing about writing about something I didn’t write about (read it again, it actually makes sense), and second – and way more important – BORING.  Everybody is hung up enough on what they, themselves, look like naked and their own sordid histories and sado-masochistic relationships with food to give a crap about mine.

In the interest of context, however, I will say this: I’ve never been skinny.  I’m not tall (read: I’m short), so there aren’t very many places for weight to go, let alone go unnoticed.  Two pregnancies might have done (absolutely did) some damage.  Eating too much and not exercising nearly enough definitely didn’t help.  And holy buckets of cellulite, it is not possible to be overprepared for what turning 40 does to a girl’s metabolism.

So, last spring I pretty much stopped eating carbohydrates.

STOP RIGHT HERE!!

Do not, under any circumstances, tell me why this “isn’t going to work,” why I am going to “gain the weight back,”  how I am going to “damage my kidneys/liver/heart/arteries/left foot/uvula/fill in the body part.”  Seriously.  Please don’t.

Moving along.

I eat lowfat and nonfat dairy products, at least those that don’t make me puke – so, that would be nonfat lattes and yogurt and some cheese.  I eat  non-starchy, low sugar vegetables, and yes I know they have carbohydrates in them, refer to the “pretty much” up yonder.  And I eat meat.  Lower fat cuts of meat, and more chicken breasts than any person should ever have to face in a lifetime because I don’t like fish, but lots and lots (and lots and lots and lots) of meat.

So…three things have happened.

1.  I’ve lost weight.  Slowly, steadily, consistently.  Which is nice.  I’m not giving numbers because I’m not that kind of girl and also, hell no, but some people say, “Huh, something’s different about you.  New haircut?”, some people say, “Hey, you like like you’ve gotten in shape.  Nice!”  and some people say really charming things like, “HOLY ****!!!  I barely even recognize you!!”  because apparently those people were born in a sludgy bog somewhere where manners don’t exist.

2.  I’m pretty sure I’m growing fangs and it’s possible that some nights I howl at the moon.  At this point, I’ve eaten more meat in five months than I have in my entire lifetime prior to those five months put together.

3.  I learned how to cook meat.  Other than on a grill.  The fact that I didn’t know how to do this before has always been sort of mortifying.  That I can serve up a few different cuts of beef, other than, say, a cheeseburger, and that I know what to do with a pork chop is kind of rewarding.

 

Phil W.’s Porkchops

note:  this isn’t low fat at all, but worth it

Brown a few thick cut boneless pork chops in butter mixed with a tiny bit of olive oil (keeps the butter from burning) over medium heat until they are mostly done.

Add two TB cream (or half and half, whatever you have) and apple cider (or apple juice, or brandy, or even beer, although I almost always use apple juice b/c that’s what’s easiest) to the pan and swirl it around until mixed.  Simmer, still over medium, until the sauce is reduced.

In a small bowl, mix 3/4 cup grated gruyere cheese, 2 more TB cream (or half and half) and 1 TB Coleman’s dry mustard and a very small bit of salt and pepper.

Top each pork chop with some of the cheese mix and broil until the cheesy stuff is melted and ever so slightly browned.

Eat two.  They’re really good.

 

 

 

Parenting for the Karma-Impaired: a vocabulary lesson

Frustration – watching your own child’s frustration with a math assignment before he/she/it even starts the problem and recalling your own math anxiety and failing miserably at explaining why this frustration is totally unwarranted and also, yeah, kind of stupid and would you just please TRY THE PROBLEM.

Helplessness – trying to convince your stressed out, in need of some counsel, personal, born of your loins offspring that you are, in fact, somewhat of an expert in how people learn and how to problem solve and cope with challenging personal situations.  As in…this is my job and you might not believe it because I am your mother, and I will thank you very much to stop rolling your eyes buddy, but there are lots of people all day trying very hard to get my attention so they can have five minutes of my time to get just some of this advice and you are IGNORING me when I’m right here, right now, all the time actually, offering it up to you on a silver platter.  Someday you’ll thank me.  Oh yes.  Yes, you will.

Payback - the fact that my lecture wise counsel about staying organized and how neatness counts was met by a comment about the condition of my purse.  Although extra points for being observant.  An observant smart ass, but observant, nonetheless.

Body blow – when your kid confesses to you his/her own anxiety/sadness/fear/grief/anger about the very same insecurities that have chased you down your entire life and that you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy, let alone your most beloved.

Love – that you will probably be thinking about all of this, with brief interruptions for passing musings about the season premiere of Dexter, what you suspect Coke Zero is doing to your GI tract, and the size of your ironing pile, for three more days before you feel any kind of peace.