I don’t normally accessorize, but this belt had my name on it.

Meanwhile, back in Taekwondo Land… The black belt test for my three girls and me was December 21. I couldn’t tell you about it yet because there was a backup at the embroiderers. Then scheduling conflicts with Sensei. Yadda-yadda. But this happened last night:

After nearly two months away, it felt weird to step back into this gym. But here we be! Youngest Daughter: “We have our black belts. We’re so cool now!” 😛

Last night Sensei said, “Your final test is, what does the Korean lettering on your belt mean?” Youngest Daughter: “It means, ‘Oh yeah!'” Surprisingly, that was incorrect. The real answer is ‘Victory.’ (I got it right.)

Here’s what I wrote, fortunately back in December, or I’d probably have forgotten much of this:

The black belt test incorporated everything we’ve ever learned. Strangely, I wasn’t as stressed about it as I was the earliest tests. Maybe this was third on the stress list thanks to having practiced a lot.

I also prepped by texting my beloved former blogging buddy, Chatter Master, aka, My Second Sensei From Afar.

And a few days later…

Poor woman. I didn’t text her after the test because I knew she’d be in bed. But I also forgot to text her the next morning! Ach!

Here’s what happened.

The hardest part was solo forms. Normally, two people do forms at once, so I could always tell myself I wasn’t being watched at the particular moments I made mistakes. But at this test, we do the top three forms on our own. Sensei did a great job preparing us by making us do solo drills in regular class. The first time he sprang this on me, everyone else standing to the side watching, my cheeks flamed. Not happy. (Yes, I know you’re reading this, S.)

But it did get easier.

My kids were totally fine with this. I think they may have been adopted. My perfectionist child got frazzled when she screwed up, so Sensei assured everyone that mistakes were expected. “The world won’t end if you make a mistake. If the world does end, it’s probably unrelated.” I found that hilarious and wondered why no one else laughed.

Knowing each of our personalities, strengths, and weaknesses, Sensei carefully curated the order in which we did the solo drills. I was third and relatively calm. I knew I knew everything. But sure enough, on the second form, right near the end, something was off. I couldn’t place it, and I couldn’t stop to think about it. I kept moving and finished it out. [Note to future self: I skipped a ridge hand.]

But, of course, once the form was through, I tried to puzzle out what had been off. Meanwhile, I was being instructed to get into position for the next form.

There was a moment of silence. I looked up a the judges: Sensei, Mrs. Sensei, and Coral stared at me.

Crud. What?

Sensei repeated the command, and I got into position. “Focus,” he said.

Gulp.

“Every time,” I said with a nervous laugh. Not every time, but I think that’s the fourth time I’ve been lost in thought and missed a command during testing. (The worst was orange belt test. I still crack up when I think about that.)

I mentally soothed myself. Next is brown belt form. You know this one. This will be easy.

It was.

The six remaining forms were done jointly. I messed up two, caught myself, said “Nope” OUT LOUD like a dope, fixed my flubs, and continued. Super annoying when you know you know the stuff but still make mistakes.

The challenge with the thirty-three defensive moves was remembering which color belt they corresponded with. I had made note cards and hung color-coordinated sheets on the walls around the dining room table so I could study up during dinner while my children blathered on about whatever kids talk about these days. 😉

This was taken after I removed them from the wall and stared at them for a while, trying to decide what to do with them. I eventually put them in a box to look back on and re-practice when I’m 80.

Sensei kindly paired us for defenses with the person we usually partnered with. That made things easier, as we know each other’s rhythms. Middle Daughter and I got through these fairly quickly and efficiently. But just in case Sensei decided to be a jerk throw us for a loop, (Still know you’re reading this, S.) we all practiced with each other, even making a chart with check boxes to be sure we didn’t miss anyone.

I didn’t dare tell Sensei about this, or he would’ve taken advantage, probably pairing me with my oldest, the lefty. She’s sort of a pain to practice with, as her punches come out of left field. I need a shirt to wear on the street that reads, “Only attack me if you’re right handed!”

Then it was time to don our sparring gear. While doing so, one daughter said, “Coral’s getting sparring gear on.” I glanced over.

“Oh, crap,” I said aloud in horror. Sure enough, the Absolutely Fierce Coral strapped on killer red gloves.

Our sparring gear. Not as cool, nor as deadly-looking, as Coral’s.

When the four of us survived, I thought, “Okay, just board breaks left.”

Nope. Then SENSEI HIMSELF, bare-knuckled, no gear, took to the floor for another round of sparring.

Oh, come on!

Then I got kind of excited, actually. I often dream of beating this man up.

When my turn was done, we were both still standing, so I’ll call it a draw. Then Mrs. Sensei said, “Return to your spot,” so I began walking back to the line–the same mistake I’ve made in maybe the last four tests?! But this time it wasn’t entirely my fault. Mrs. Sensei quickly corrected, “Back to your starting position, I mean.” So I went to the proper place.

Sort of happy that happened just for the throwback (one last time!) and the continuity of my usual testing goof-up.

My girls did fine sparring, though my momma heart faltered when all three got kicked in the face by some combo of Coral or Sensei. It was gentle; no damage done. Still!

Not until I washed my feet after class did I find the bump and red circle of scraped-off skin on my shin. I didn’t even notice it happen. [Note from February 2024 Betsy: Bruises! They’re not just for Jiu-Jitsu anymore!]

On to board breaks!

Hammerfist of Fury! Love this action shot with my belt flying.

This hand board break stung a little. I could tell it hurt my girls too, but they said nothing. I appreciate that they’re tough.

On the first try with this skip-in sidekick, I overshot. I wanted the board higher so it wouldn’t happen again, but Sensei said, “Adjust your position to kick it here.” Fine. I did. Didn’t hurt at all. I was kind of surprised.

You’ll note I’m still wearing that darn knee brace. Primarily it’s a precaution; although, the night before testing, I tweaked it. I made the mistake of rolling over in bed with my other ankle hooked over my leg, so the top of my leg rolled, but the bottom was sort of caught. My knee yelled at me for that. Dumb knee. Or dumb me. Whichever.

The knee was fine, but my left ankle and foot were not. That free Jiu-Jitsu seminar reignited the year-old(!) injury, which was made worse in a Taekwondo class when I round kicked bags. It was on fire after testing. The type of fire where you sleep cozy and warm under your blankets, but your foot sticks out because the cool air is soothing. (Then five minutes later it’s too cold, so you pull it back in.) After a couple days it settled back to its usual manageable low simmer.

And, done!

After months of setbacks due to my injuries, my girls’ progress being purposely slowed thanks to me whining on my blog about wanting us all to finish together, (I know you’ve been reading this, S.) we did it! So much relief when it was over.

Thank you for being with me on this crazy journey, Beloved Blog Buddies!

Current-Day Betsy again: We may continue on for second degree black, but for now that’s kind of on hold since, as you know, Sensei and I are in the full Jiu-Jitsu swing of things. One last thing to show you:

Belt rack complete!