While folding laundry today my mind wandered as I hung my children’s Tae Kwon Do uniforms.  Both JJ and Lara have been taking Tae Kwon Do lessons since they were four. I can still see them swimming in oversized uniforms, pant legs rolled up and cinched tightly at their waists by a thick white belt. They didn’t kick very high or punch very hard, but as the years passed they have grown into larger outfits while earning higher degree colored belts.

When I left my children’s father I wanted to ensure that I didn’t leave little JJ or Lara without a positive male influence in their lives. A healthy, productive influence. One they could emulate.  So Tae Kwon Do classes twice a week, I thought, would help. They’d get exercise, they’d learn an art form that – one day – they may have to use for protection, and they would have a strong male teaching them.

It has been eight years of hard work for them but they thoroughly enjoy the ride. Honestly, I can’t say that I always enjoy the ride. Getting homework done while cooking, shoving food in them so they can make class on time, running out to drop them off, rushing back to wash dishes and toss in a load of laundry, then hiking out again to pick them up. In rain, snow, sleet or hail…you get it. There are many nights I just want to stay home. Stop the running, the rushing.  But we go twice a week with some exceptions. And it’s not cheap. I’d be lying if I said I never fantasized about what I would do with the extra money if I didn’t have to pay for the lessons, continual tests, higher ranking belts, wood to break, larger uniforms, sparing equipment, accessories….etc.

There were times when JJ and/or Lara wanted to toss in their belt. I’d make a call to their Master for guidance. He has always been there for us. He has visited the house to speak with the kids and help work through whatever hurdle they were up against. And he has worked his magic more than once to encourage them to continue.  Through the years, their Master has helped to instill morals and good behavior in both my children. I especially like his ‘be good to your mom’ speeches.

I have a deep satisfaction when I see their hard work and my hard earned money in action. Recently I moved to head slap JJ but before my palm could make contact with the golden locks on the back of his head, he instinctively jerked around and blocked my arm with a huge grin on his face. First I laughed. Then I made it clear that he was not to block my head slaps. They are my given right as his mother and the payer of his classes.

Lara is currently a red belt and she has her sights set on achieving her black belt. I smile to myself when I hear her boxing the punching bag downstairs. My son took a grueling nine-hour black belt test two years ago. He was the youngest in the room. The morning of his test I packed his cooler with water, Gatorade, bananas, sandwiches, a candy bar, extra clothing and a note that read, “I don’t care whether or not you pass the test. You are my little black belt and I am so very proud that you have come this far. I love you, Mom.”  JJ left the test exhausted but invigorated by the fact that he made it through the day – and yes, he passed.

A framed photo of JJ taken during his black belt test sat on our table at the black belt award banquet. The photo caught JJ mid-kick while jumping in the air. Sweat was flying off his long blond hair. I remember holding the photo, then looking up at my then 10-year-old who was standing tall on stage with his Tae Kwon Do Master, the school’s Grand Master and the Great Grand Master. JJ was beaming with pride as he accepted his hard earned black belt certification.  Applause filled the air.

As I surveyed the room, I became aware of an unforeseen gift that my children were receiving from their martial arts education. They had carved a place for themselves – a safe, welcoming place – within a group of individuals who started out as strangers and are sharing their lives as a very diverse, caring community with a common interest.

At that moment I knew that the years of running, rushing and yes – payments, for classes, uniforms, tests and belts…weren’t half as important or meaningful as the priceless emotions of pride and confidence that my son was experiencing – qualities that will hopefully shadow him and Lara throughout their lives.

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