And here is my adorable daughter, who, I was told by my instructor, should teach me how to do forward rolls. It is evidently her favorite part. She told me last week, she is going for the black belt. I believe her. She also told her teacher she wishes she had black hair so she looked Korean.
But growth, stretching, removal of comfort zone does not come without cost. We learned a new kick this week. It is a sort of run, left knee up for leverage, then a high right flying kick. I learned it. I felt empowered. Then I felt pain. I caught my toe on that last one. And here it what it looks like now. Eva is pointing at it.
I came home from class and the girls immediately knew 'something' had happened. I crawled in bed with my hungry boy and they said, "What's wrong, Mama?" I said, "I broke my toe." Now this statement made to someone who has known me as long as my mom would be no big deal. Didn't I jump off a 2nd story balcony in 7th grade as the new girl trying to impress new friends and break my toe? Haven't I stubbed it multiple times on bed frames in the middle of the night and broken it? Sure. But to my little girls, 'broken' must have meant, "broken off." For, their 8 little eyes became saucers and they were speechless. Then Eva snatched back the covers, I suppose to see if my toe was still there. It's still there, but it's blue. Ross keeps asking me if I have put ice on it. My house hovers at 60 degrees. My feet are already cold. Isn't that enough to keep swelling down? Apparently not.