Back in December, I started a Fight Club consisting solely of part-time-working or stay-at-home moms. We start the evening sharing our children’s accomplishments, then we argue about who really IS the Student of the Month, kick back some vodka, and then get right into the hair-pulling and cheap shots to the kidneys.
Outside of my delusions, the kids and I started taking karate classes. Jessica likes it because it “fits her well” (her words) and Maddox likes it because he likes playing with the other kids. I like it because, apparently, nothing calms and centers me like flying through the air and landing on my face.
When I briefly tried aikido (awesome locks, beautiful efficiency, but not enough head-kicking for me personally) one of the students would take really extreme high, soft, falls. When I asked about it, they said, “oh yeah, that’s so-and-so, she likes to fly.” I totally get that. Flying through space, landing hard, and not hurting anyone is pretty amazing.
It’s also been a pleasant surprise to encounter so many very nice people who can switch gears in a heartbeat from talking about everyday life to raking your face off and then poking out your eyes.
It’s a pretty family-oriented dojo (read those two sentences as a run-on sentence, it’s funny), and a lot of the people I’ve met also bring their kids, which means that you get to know each other pretty fast because you see each other six times a week going to your classes and your kids’ classes and just lurking around the parking lot, hoping a black belt will walk by and #36 combination you into the marsh.
Also important, to me, is that since starting karate (and gradually ramping up to going to 5-8 classes a week, basically it’s a part-time job that I pay to go to), I’ve been drawing again after a decade-long hiatus. It’s pretty magical, much like if you click on the engage awesome mode link in the sidebar. Do it. A bunch. I dare you.