Packed schedules

"My schedule is so busy, I'm beginning to feel like a businessman," said Primo yesterday.

"I know how you feel," I replied.

My kids have, and have always had, a far less packed schedule than their Park Slope peers, in terms of extra curriculars. This is mostly because they've both protested vehemently when I tried to get them "involved" in the normal things -- soccer or ballet or chess.

"I just like having time to myself to do nothing," Primo likes to tell me. And I agree, wholeheartedly. I've written plenty of articles for parenting magazines for which I've interviewed experts about all sorts of things and something all the experts seem to agree about is that Primo is right; kids need free time, time they are in charge of, to wind down, to day dream -- to do nothing, as my son so eloquently puts it.

But then, two things happened:

A. I realized that what Primo meant by "time to myself to do nothing" was actually "time to play video games." For Seconda, that translated into, "time to watch Netflix." Which is a horse of a different color.

B. I had a baby and needed some child care foe the big kids, and found that paying for after school classes was a cost-effective way to get this AND stop them from gorging themselves on video games.

So, for the time being, my kids are enrolled in a few after school classes, all of which sound like something you might read from the catalog of offerings at Pinocchio's Pleasure Island,

"Swim games!"

"Creative yoga!"

"Acrobatics!"

These are activities they've chosen incidentally, not ones I've forced on them. Well, to be honest, it was a blend of me forcing and them choosing, as in "Well you HAVE to choose SOMETHING so what will it be? Ballet or gymnastics? Swimming or soccer?"

They don't have classes every day and nothing on the weekends. Most of them are just for an hour, 90 minutes tops. I host playdates like I'm running a day care in my apartment. Which is to say, these kids have ample time to "wind down." They also have plenty of time to "do nothing" aka "feast on screen time."

Still, they lament their lack of free time. And really, ultimately, I don't blame them. Both the kids and I pine for that long-gone time where they could roam the streets on their own after school, playing stick ball or hopscotch or whatever the hell kids in Norman Rockwell paintings did -- I don't know because i had the world's biggest helicopter mom in bell bottoms. The kids long for it because because then they wouldn't have to follow instructions and be on someone else's time table, and I long for it because, well,  then I wouldn't have to pay for child care.

But for now, the kids will just have to accept the unbearable fate of learning to cartwheel and do the breast stroke. It's just their miserable lot.

And now for the exciting conclusion of . .

How We Got Kicked out of Karate Class

After a terrifically stressful initial experience at the old dojo, I opted to bring Seconda back, despite my specifically telling her I would never do such a thing. The reason for this is simple: it was free. When something is offered to me free it is almost impossible for me to say no. Free lollipops at the barber shop? Sure. Free balloons at the haircutting place? Bring it on. If it is free I will take it. I just hope no one ever offers me free crack cocaine. I’m pretty sure I’d do the right thing but I would be thinking of what a value it was rather wistfully.

So when I signed Primo up for the “holiday special” at the Karate school, they told me that Seconda could train for free with her brother. Not only that, but she would get a free uniform!!!!! Can you blame me for offering the child another chance at martial arts greatness?
\
Before our first official class, Primo and I explained over and over again to Sec that she would have to participate in the class for kids her age this time and that she could not join in with Primo in the big kid class. She seemed to understand.

But when it was time to put her money where her mouth was, so to speak, she couldn’t muster the courage to go it alone. So the sensei told me (ordered me, more like) to get up there with her.
This is why I left the comfortable viewing area, the rows and rows of seats filled with parents and siblings watching the kids doing karate, and ascended the stairs to join the 3 and 4 year-olds and be the object of public humiliation. I tried to just sit on the side of the mat and send encouraging thoughts but the sensei told me I had to join in, ”Just stay right next to her and do what they do!” he instructed.

So I did jumping jacks.
I ran laps.
I did STRADDLE SPLITS.

Please keep in mind that this was performed sans sports bra. I nearly knocked my own eye out while running laps. I don’t know if the sensei understands this but having your tetas flop around violently is some painful shit. And I can’t begin to discuss the level of humiliation I sustained when I was the last student to make it back to my team on the relay race. The sensei actually jeered, “Whatsamatter? You can’t keep up?”

The worst part is this very public indignity did not even help my daughter. Having me right there with her did not give her the confidence to participate. It gave her the confidence to make mischief.

While everyone was doing bear walks in the relay race, she was running figure eights around the room.

When everyone was running laps, she was seated in the middle of the room, directly in the way.

And when everyone was listening to the sensei tell a story, she really let herself go.

The sensei was recounting a parable to the class, and me, while we sat obediently criss-cross applesauce around him. Seconda meanwhile ran around from one end of the room to the other shrieking in delight. It was very disruptive. I was having an actual ulcer. I didn’t want to seem like I was condoning her behavior but at the same time I knew it would make more of a scene if I started to chase after her. So I sat there with the kids, praying that she’d run out of steam and wondering why I had invited this misery upon myself. The sensei was just ignoring her, though with obvious effort. Unlike Montessori class, where you can join if you want or continue with your self-directed play if you’d prefer, in karate class, you toe the line. There is no alternative activity. You do what sensei says.

Then, in the middle of the parable, Seconda ran over to a little white cone the sensei uses as a goal in the relay race. She picked it up and ambled over to the group. And then, with an irrepressible glee, she placed the cone one of the other children’s heads.

That did it.

“Mommy, Seconda needs to leave the class,” the sensei said, looking like he’d like a few blocks of plaster to chop in half.

I have never in my life been so delighted to be kicked out of something. It was like finding a trap door in a No Exit nightmare. Halleluiah!

I grabbed that wild child and ushered her quickly off the mat, while Sensei said to the other children: “See what happens when you fool around in karate class?”

Yes, he made an example out of us.

I kept Sec close to me after that, and plied her with bribes (in reward for her exemplary behavior!) to keep her quiet while we watched Primo do karate, pretty impeccably.

I don’t blame Sec, really. She’s a toddler, for crying out loud, and I don’t feel like its any failing in her (or her upbringing, thank you very much) that she still wants to do her own thing. But I will tell you one thing for sure – that kid’s karate uniform has already been retired, after a single inglorious debut. I’m bringing Primo-san twice a week to class, but Seconda-san is staying at home from now on. No martial arts for the one. Now, circus arts on the other hand, might be just the thing . . .

Sensei Says

When I took Primo to his five year check-up (see: Pee in a Cup) the doc asked him what he likes to do.

“Draw,” he said.

“OK, but what about something active?” the doc asked.

Primo looked at me. I looked at the doc.

“He runs around,” I replied, “you know -- plays.”

“He’s got to do something,” he advised, “swimming, soccer, something physical. To get oxygen to his brain.”

This seemed slightly over-dramatic, somewhat of a scare tactic. Your kid’s brain is gasping for breath. Sign him up for Little League! But I love my doc, I trust my doc, and, in truth, I had been feeling guilty about the child’s lack of extra curricular interests.

“Oh,” I remembered, “karate! I’m going to sign him up!”

“Karate,” said the doc, “Great.”

In fact, I’ve been planning for a long time to get Primo enrolled in a martial art. First off, it’s winter and there was absolutely nothing to do after school every day except go home and watch TV, which certainly doesn’t oxygenate the brain. Second, I thought it might build his confidence and help him feel more empowered in the face of a world which the kid reasonably enough finds pretty frightening. Third, there’s a bully at his school and I figured karate would be good bully-proofing insurance. Because if there’s a bully in Kindergarten, well then, I can’t imagine what’s waiting in the fifth grade.

So I found a karate school not far from our place which is running a holiday special where you pay one price and the whole family can take classes as much as they want for a month. They offer a class right after school for 3 and 4 year-olds and one directly after that for 5 and 6 year-olds, so I figured I could take BOTH Sec and Primo, back to back. Perfect!

Primo was not happy to hear of these plans because he has an innate resistance to new activities, but when I told him it would make him like a ninja and empower him against the bully, he got interested. I explained to the kids that Seconda would do her class first while Primo and I watched from a viewing/ waiting area on the side of the room. Then they’d switch.

So Sec took off her shoes and got ready to rumble. Unfortunately, her enthusiasm waned when the class actually started and she found out she had to go it alone, without me or Primo next to her. I coaxed her and bribed her and negotiated with her but she was just too freaked out, and so I conceded to let her hang out with me and Primo until it was his turn to take class with the 5 and 6 year-olds. The which, incidentally, was being taught by a visiting Sensei. Now, I’m no karate expert but it did appear that having the Sansei visit from New Jersey was something like an honor. I got that because the other Sensei said, “Let’s all be at our best and show Sensei Mark what we are capable of!”

At that point, Seconda was ready. More than ready, in fact. Literally unstoppable. I tried to restrain her from running onto the mat area after her brother but she slipped through my grasp and bolted onto the floor and stood next to Primo, who was absolutely delighted to have her by his side. Seriously. His eyes lit up when he saw her and his whole body instantly relaxed as he took her hand. Sibling solidarity!

I, meanwhile, was having visible palpitations about how my toddler had broken the rules of the dojo, under the watch of a New Jersey Sensei of all things! I stood to go retrieve her but a mom next to me put her hand on my arm and said, “Its OK. Just leave her.”

So I watched as that pint-sized pipsqueak yelled “YES SENSEI!” and did jumping jacks, and push-ups right along side her brother. She was pretty impressive – a regular Seconda-san, for the first five minutes.

Now I don’t know about other karate classes but this one is like a Sesame Street version of boot camp. By which I mean, the Senseis are super nice, very approachable, and they even try to be funny sometimes, but they are definitely putting the kids through their paces. They are definitely in charge. There is no back and forth, or asking the student for input of suggestions. Also, it is very loud. And it sounds like this

YES SENSEI

KAY-YAH

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

YES SENSEI

NO SENSEI

KAY-YAH KAY-YAH KAY-YAH

So in the middle of the “Kay-Yah”s and feet thumping, I heard a squeaky little voice say something undecipherable. The New Jersey Visiting Sensei stopped shouting. Instead he replied:

“What? Can we play a game?”

The squeaky voice said something else.

“Can we play Snow White?”

The kids were just standing there, in dragon pose, waiting for further instruction while the Sensei leaned over to hear Seconda-san invite him on a trip to Fairytale Village.

“I don’t know. Maybe at the end of class,” he replied. And then, “TEN PUSH-UPS! LET’S GO!”

I was, in a word, mortified.

I wondered when exactly might be the right moment to extract my wunderkind from this class. And then I heard a yell:

“MOMMY I HAVE TO DO PEEPEE!”

Now, asking the Sensei to play Snow White was bad but urinating on his feet was positively unforgivable. So I jumped up and beckoned Seconda over, ushering her speedily to the restroom. When she was done, she was raring to get back into the class. This time, though, I held firm. Which led to 15 full minutes of artery-popping screams, and since the place is a storefront, there was no place to go but outside which I knew I’d be tortured for later by Primo who I’d promised to watch.

It was the kind of crying where other parents stare at you and you know it’s bad because these are people who have kids but they still haven’t ever heard anything like what is coming out of your hellion’s mouth. And people actually started feeling SORRY for her.

Don’t you just love that? When your child is torturing you and you’re trying to be responsible and stop them from being naughty and then you get the dirty looks like, “what are you doing to that poor angel to make her cry like that?”

One mom said, “Oh, she’s crying so hard, her toes are red!”

Like I didn’t notice. I sustained HEARING LOSS after that meltdown. Not to mention took at least a year off my life. But finally, Primo’s class ended and he even earned a white belt signed by the visiting Sensei for exemplary performance.

When Sec saw that belt she went even crazier with covetousness, until the Sensei actually came over and handed her one of her own.

“I am NEVER bringing you back here,” I hissed as I wrapped the belt around her waist.

If you want to judge how firmly I stand by my word, consider the fact that the story I just told you is not even the worst of what transpired at Karate class. That story comes later, when I brought Seconda-san BACK to Karate school this past week.

And for that, dear readers, you will have to wait.