It Was Worth It

Cassie received her black belt last Saturday and things have almost returned to normal around here.  I recently spent time with the parents of several of Cassie's friends.  While full of congratulations for Cassie's efforts, they questioned the amount of time invested in the black belt.  Of course, I've asked myself that a number of times.  And, now that the frenzy is over, I've had time to reflect on the whole process.  Of course, the first question that came to mind was, "Was it worth it?"  And then, "What did Cassie take away from this?  Now that she has her black belt, will she be different somehow?  Would I be willing to go through all this again with Lacey?"

Well, in terms of the pride that Cassie feels, it was worth it.  Below is a photo that was taken by Magic Bob minutes after Cassie's black belt was tied on her.  You can see the quiet pride in her face as she admires her belt.

But, what did Cassie really gain from the black belt odyssey?  Cassie is not good at following through.  She is hyper creative and always coming up with new ideas.  When she's on fire with a new project, she throws herself completely into it, neglecting essential things that need to get done and leaving ongoing projects in her wake.  I don't blame her entirely.  I consider this a genetic flaw.  But, she's been working for her black belt for over 2.5 years.  And, during the last few months, she practiced and exercised 7 days a week.  So, she learned perseverance and commitment.

As part of the process, Cassie was required to record 100 Acts of Kindness and 100 Acts of Self Control.  We began discussing these items as a family every night at the dinner table.  When Cassie struggled to define an act of kindness, Lacey would chime in, describing something that Cassie had done for her that day.  Most of the acts of kindness, therefore, highlighted Cassie as a big sister.  The acts of self control were difficult simply because Cassie has always over-regulated herself.  Exercising self control is not a challenge for her.  We spent time identifying acts of self control - not talking during class; doing homework before watching TV; picking up after oneself.  Lacey listened carefully and started to give her own examples of self control.  This was a triumph for us as self control is not Lacey's greatest strength.  So documenting self control  served to help Lacey.

Taekwondo is also supposed to teach responsibility.  Well, that seems to have happened.  10 days ago the girls had a day off from school.  Cassie volunteered to watch Lacey and did a phenomenal job.  My only instructions were that they pass the day with a minimal amount of arguing.  On that day, Cassie texted me at 7:30 a.m. to inform me that she was up, drinking chai and writing in her journal.  At 9:00 a.m. she notified me that she had fixed breakfast and they were both doing their homework.  It just got better.  When I arrived home from work, Lacey showed me the menu that Cassie had typed for their luncheon party.  After their luncheon, Cassie had done the dishes, washed the kitchen counters and vacuumed the floor.  She had practiced her violin while Lacey read.  And, Lacey rejoiced, they hadn't argued once.  What a spectacular day.  Les and I didn't know whether to attribute the success to good parenting or the whole black belt thing.  But then I guess the black belt is part of parenting.   

A couple days later, Lacey volunteered to clean my car.  She removed all the trash and vacuumed the seats and floors.  She even took out the floor mats before she vacuumed.  Could her behavior have been influenced by Cassie? 

Over the weekend, the girls asked if I would take them to the track to jog.  I was happy to oblige as I realized....doing 9600 kicks, a gazillion knee highs,  and jogging regularly with Cassie was good for me!

After mulling all this over, I decided that the whole family had gained from the black belt journey.  Maybe working toward a black belt would be good for Lacey too.  She tends to rush through everything, both at home and at school.  She still doesn't understand that being the fastest isn't necessarily the best.  Watching Cassie's progress over the last couple years has helped Lacey to appreciate the value of hard work.  When I asked her if she was interested in getting a black belt she answered, "No way!  That's too much work!"  I guess I'll try again in another year.

Veteran's Day 2012

We are remembering my Dad and other veterans on this day.  The girls decorated the Christmas tree at the Taekwondo studio with red poppies, in recognition of Veteran's Day. 

Taekwondo Moms

Last summer, my niece Amanda introduced me to the TV show, "Dance Moms."  This reality series features mothers who are obsessed with their daughters' dance competitions.  I watched the show and laughed at the intensity of the mothers, made jokes about how they needed to find lives, and swore that I would never turn into a "dance mom."  Several days ago, I was running down the sidewalk between the Taekwondo studio and the grocery store, on my way to fetch a gallon of milk.  I caught a glimpse of myself in a store window and froze at the sight.  Some strands of my hair were literally sticking straight up in the air.  I tried to pat them into place, then, in desperation, licked my palm and tried to smash them down.  I sighed and tried to remember the last time that I had looked at myself in a mirror.  Then I was struck with a shocking reality.  I'm not a Dance Mom.  I'M A TAEKWONDO MOM !!!!!

Whoa. . . slow down.  How did this happen?  Wasn't Les the one who signed Cassie up for Taekwondo?  Wasn't that supposed to give them some quality father-daughter time?   But, in an odd role reversal, I've become the Taekwondo parent because, according to the girls, I can keep track of all the exercises.

So, exactly who are the Taekwondo Moms?  They are the mothers, fathers, grandparents and siblings who are slavishly devoted to their children's achievement of a black belt.  They have lost their own identities and are known as "Kayla's Mom," "Brandon's Mom," "Michael's Mom," and, of course, "Cassie's Mom."  The Taekwondo Moms sit patiently on wooden benches, watching class after class through large windows.  They launder uniforms and sew on patches.  They oversee healthy eating and the multitude of exercises that their children must complete outside of class.  They have entrusted the care of their homes and other children to their spouses.  If there was a reality series for Taekwondo Moms, it might go something like this.

Tuesday:  This week is especially crazy.  There are double Taekwondo classes scheduled to help the kids get ready for black belt testing.  For the first time ever, we skip a violin lesson because we simply can't do everything.  The first class is at 6:15.  Les and Lacey head for ballet as Cassie and I head for the "dojang."  

 The Taekwondo Moms are present.  I am feeling energetic and begin grading the stack of papers that I've brought along. We discuss the myriad of requirements that the kids must complete as we whip out the "orange books."  These books, officially known as "Candidate Packets," contain charts for all the exercises the kids must complete:  3000 push-ups; 3000 sit-ups; 6000 jumping jacks; run 30 miles; 300 minutes of punching; 300 repetitions of the forms; 1200 repetitions each of 8 different kicks for a total of 9600 kicks.  We compare notes.  I'm proud to see that Cassie is the farthest ahead because this Taekwondo Mom has been doing the exercises with her every day.

"That was 20 Front Snap Kicks," says one Mom, "Everybody got that?"

We nod as we scribble  to record these kicks in the books.

"Anybody recognize this kick?" asks one Mom.

"Crescent kick," I reply.  "Page 15."

One Mom asks if the other kids have scheduled their "demos."  This topic provokes a lot of stress.  The kids have to schedule a public demonstration and arrange for a Taekwondo instructor to observe.  Another Mom asks if other parents are taking time off from work for this.  It seems that most of us have successfully scheduled after school presentations.  One Mom says that she's still waiting for an email confirming that an instructor will be present.  She's worked so hard to schedule her child's demo and doesn't have the energy to find a new date.  One Mom complains that although she attended the parent orientation session twice, she still can't understand all the black belt requirements.  Another Mom stresses because her child's uniform is too small.  A new one will cost $50.  I commiserate - I just had to replace Cassie's helmet and now her sparring boots are too small.  

We turn our attention to the class. The kids are working on their forms.  None of them seem ready.  A senior instructor walks by and the Taekwondo Moms seize the opportunity to vent.  How are we going to get our kids ready?  After all the time we've spent here, why don't they know their form?  I glance at Cassie and hold my breath.  Is she going to execute each kick, punch, low front stance and back stance correctly?  Will the private lessons we've been paying for pay off?  "Come on, Cassie," I mutter.  I wince as she falters.  The three inch stack of papers I've been grading slides to the floor.  The toddler who's been running back and forth in front of us slips and falls on the papers, and begins drooling on top of them.  I bite my tongue.  After all, this toddler belongs to a tired, over-stressed Taekwondo Mom.  I glance back at Cassie to see that the class has moved on to something else.  

There is a break between classes.  The Moms shove snacks at their kids and try to squeeze in a few minutes of homework before the next class.  "Okay," I coach Cassie for tomorrow's Spanish test, "Repeat after me. .. Yo soy.  Tu eres."  

"Bo blacks, let's go!!!" an instructor yells.  The class moves to the back room where the temperature is about 55 degrees.  None of the Moms are prepared for this.  We huddle together trying to decide what to do.  Should we sit and shiver or wait out front?  We decide to stay.  After all, we need to continue recording exercises in the orange books.  As the evening wears on, parents of the younger children head for home.  Finally, the class is coming to an end.  The instructor seats the students on the floor and begins lecturing them about how they must practice if they want to be ready for graduation.  The weary Moms complain that there isn't any time left in the day for practicing.  We call, "See you tomorrow," and head for home.

9:00 p.m. finds me clinging to the kitchen counter doing kicks with Cassie.  "Okay, Cass," I pant, "100 knee highs, 100 back situps and 20 jumping front snap kicks and we will be finished!"

Wednesday:  The Taekwondo Moms assemble at 5:15.  We welcome "Ella's Mom" to our group.  She laughs and tells us that her husband can no longer take the stress.  We count the jumping jacks that the kids are doing so we can record these in the orange book. 

"I hope they work on their one steps," I begin.  "Cassie still doesn't know these."

"Yeah," chimes in another Mom.  "My kid still can't do these either.  You'd think after all the time and money we've spent here this wouldn't be so hard."

"Well," pipes up another Mom.  "I heard that at the last blackbelt testing, only 60 percent of the kids who tested actually made it!"

"Seriously?!" the rest of us gasp.  "What happens then?"

"Well," the first Mom explains, "I've heard that the kids have to do the whole orange book over again!"

"I'm not turning in my orange book until I know for certain that my kid is going to pass the testing." says one Mom.

"Yeah," we all chorus.

One Mom jumps up and pounds on the glass window of the studio.  "Focus!!" she hisses at her child.

The Moms begin speculating about how much money we could make if we had the capital to open a coffee shop in the neighborhood.  Think of all the parents who are sitting through ballet and gymnastics classes right at this moment, not to mention all the Taekwondo Moms!

I laugh and tell the other Moms that for the past week my kids have been living out of the laundry basket because I haven't had time to fold the clothes.  The Moms share their own similar stories.  One Mom volunteers that her husband has been paying for a maid service to clean their home.

"Must be nice," we chorus.

Another Mom admits that she has begun taking Taekwondo classes at night.  "It's so great to have something to kick at the end of the day!" she says.

The class is supposed to end at 6:00.  The next class is not until 7:00.  My plan is to take Cassie home to finish homework and eat dinner.  But, the class runs over by about 15 minutes.  We finally make it home only to discover that Les' Masterpiece Mac & Cheese isn't quite ready.  Cassie knocks out a few math problems, shoves some food in her face and we are out the door again.  I am tired and swerve to avoid a jogging neighbor.  (Sorry, Kurt.  I'll wave next time.)  When did it get dark?

The 7:00 class is again in the back room.  The Taekwondo Moms are equipped with winter jackets.  This class is especially critical because tomorrow the kids have their first pre-test.  There are five pretests scheduled and more whispered stories are circulating.  Was it actually 60% pass rate last time or did 60% of the kids fail?  I finally duck out for a few minutes and go in search of an instructor.  I can't take the stress.

"Listen," I demand, "How do I know if my kid is going to pass?"

"Don't worry," he smiles. "There's nothing to worry about."

I report back to the Taekwondo Moms, explaining that I had been assured we have nothing to worry about. But, we realize, if we have nothing to worry about then why do we have to go through five pretests?  We listen to our kids practice their "questions."  Each has been given a question and answer about Taekwondo that must be memorized.  One Mom watches her kid struggle and finally blurts out, "I can't take this.  You know your question!  Just do it!"  We eventually drag our kids home and I try to figure out how I'm going to get Cassidy's uniform ready for tomorrow.

Thursday:  Cassie is in a very bad mood.  She forgot her math homework and believes that her teacher unfairly ridiculed her.  Stress is high tonight because this is the first pretest.  We are again in the back room because this is supposed to give a more private setting.  One Taekwondo Mom opens the conversation by suggesting that we take our girls for a pedicure before the Black Belt ceremony.  "They need to look nice," she says.  "You know they are always barefoot here."

"Pedicure," I chuckle. "Yes, I think we are the ones who deserve a pedicure."

First up for the pretest is, of course, "Miss Cassie."  Why is it that the kid who is clearly the most nervous gets called first?

"Miss Cassie," the instructor intones, "Your form is Taegeuk Chil Jang,"

I hold my breath.  Cassie begins her form and completes it almost error free.  Phew!  The instructor puts his arm around her back and tells her to breath so that she doesn't faint.

"Miss Cassie, " the instructor booms, "What is your question?"

"Sir," she says, "My question is, 'Can you explain what makes power,' Sir.  Power is made by weight and speed . . . together with . . . relaxation.......ummmm......concentration..... and......uhhhh........confidence, Sir!"

The Taekwondo Moms violate protocol and erupt into spontaneous applause and cheering. 

I don't pay much attention to the rest of the class.  I'm just relieved that we have made it this far.

Finally class is over.  There is just one last command from the instructor.  "Turn and bow to your parents, " he insists.  "They are the ones who brought you here tonight."

This is Cassie's public demonstration.  Lacey was helping Cassie show the audience how to do a "take down."  Lacey was a good sport!

Hoot Owls and Handcuffs

The girls love Halloween and this year, they began talking about their costumes in July.  When I protested, Cassie reminded me that last year I had waited so long to order the costume she wanted that it was out of stock.    Two years ago, for Lacey's first Halloween, we had ventured into a Halloween specialty store and exited quickly because she was terrified.  That was how we began the order-costumes-by-mail tradition.  Because Lacey never had the opportunity to make choices, she still struggles when presented with options.  For her first Halloween, we had chosen a fairy costume.  Last year, we turned her into Mary Had a Little Lamb.  I decided that this year Lacey should be allowed to select her own costume.

We sat down with the catalog.  From the next room Les hollered, "No wings!"

Ahh, the problem with wings.  The wings to Lacey's fairy costume had refused to stay in place.  She spent Halloween looking like a swatted fly.  Last year, Cassie was a Phoenix.  The red and orange glitter from her wings is still embedded in my car seats.  I agreed that costumes should be wingless.

The girls flipped through the catalog once together.  "I want to be an owl," Cassie declared.  

"What's an owl?" asked Lacey.

"You know," said Cassie, "Whooo, Whooo!"

"No wings!" reminded Les.

"But, Daddy," explained Cassie, "The owl costume has soft fabric wings that are attached to it."

"Okay," Les agreed, "You can be an owl."

Twenty minutes later, Lacey was still poring over the catalog and my patience was beginning to seep away.

"How about Dorothy?" Cassie suggested.

"Don't know who that is," answered Lacey.

"How about Miss Muffet?" Cassie tried.  "Look how pretty the costume is!"

"What's a mismuffet?" asked Lacey.

"Oooooohhh!"  Cassie squealed, "Lacey, you'd be an adorable Red Riding Hood!"

"And, the costume would be so warm!" I added.

"Who's Red Riding Hood?" asked Lacey.

We sighed and continued turning pages.

"There," smiled Lacey.  "I like that!"

"Oh," I groaned.  "The little gnome costume would be perfect.  But, it only comes in toddler sizes.  Too bad."

"What about a ladybug?"  asked Lacey.

"No wings," yelled Les.

"What about a mermaid, Lacey?" offered Cassie.  "You know what a mermaid is."

"She'd never be able to walk in that costume," I concluded.

"What about a cowgirl?"  Cassie ventured next.  "I loved my cowgirl costume."

"What's a cowgirl?" asked Lacey.

"Hmm.... maybe she'd look good as Marie Antoinette," Cassie said.

"Cassie," I replied.  "You would like to be Marie Antoinette because you know who she is.  There isn't enough time to explain all that to Lacey and get her to be excited about it.  Anyway, she'd never be able to hold her head up wearing that huge wig!"

"Maybe I would like to be a cat," ventured Lacey.

"Well...." I said as I examined the picture of the cat costume, "It's awfully skimpy.  And, before you ask what skimpy means, I will explain that you would freeze in that costume.  If it's cold, you would have to put a jacket over it and nobody would be able to see the costume."

"I kind of like this one," Lacey pointed.

"A watermelon fairy?" Cassie giggled.  "Lacey, if you ring doorbells dressed like that do you really think people will know what you're supposed to be?"

"No wings!" grumbled Les.

"This is kind of cool," Lacey pointed again.

"The same goes for 'galaxy princesses,'" Cassie explained.  "Lacey, part of the fun of a costume is when people recognize who or what you're supposed to be."

Lacey continued turning down our suggestions.  She had never heard of a go-go dancer or a Pink Lady.  She didn't see why Cassie though a poodle skirt was cute.  No to any food costumes, including the hotdog, popcorn, pizza slice and cupcake costumes. I said no to the cave girl, simply because I knew she'd freeze.  

Suddenly, Lacey's face lit up.  "I know what I want to be!" she exclaimed.  "A policeman."

"Oh my gosh, Lacey, that's perfect for you!" Cassie cheered.

As I got ready to place the order, I asked Lacey why she had chosen to be a police officer.

"I can put the handcuffs on Cassie," she grinned and ran off.

Well, Lacey still has a lot to learn about American culture.  And, she still has trouble making decisions.  But, this Halloween promises to be exciting.