Anna’s 8th birthday was a few weeks ago and, boy howdy, did she make out like a bandit. She received several gift cards, games, books, clothes and a brand new bike, not to mention a fun outsourced birthday party at a local bounce house place. The bike, actually, was sort of a necessity—she’d reached the point of ridiculousness on her little girl bike with her knees practically bopping her in the chin.
That was at the beginning of the month, a few short days
after a Halloween extravaganza of new costumes and insane amounts of candy.
Then there were the exciting trips to the bookstore to use the gift cards
resulting in MORE presents, followed immediately by was the book fair at school.
Oh, the book fair.
In general I try to get rid of those monthly Scholastic flyers
as soon as they reach my doorstep, but their school promotes non-stop, building
up excitement and expectation for weeks ahead of time. I understand it’s to
raise money for the classroom but to be honest, their school is not lacking in
funds. Calling the PTA zealous doesn’t quite cover it.
After some discussion, we agreed to go. I took all the kids to
the weekend hours with these rules: They could each pick ONE book, any book, as
long as it was less than $15 dollars (Scholastic books are notoriously
expensive).
Silvia picked out a book of Christmas stories and Anna got a
biography on Taylor Swift (oh, my!). We paid and trooped home happily, mission
accomplished.
The following morning, though, all hell broke loose.
“MOM! You forgot my book fair money! Today’s my class visit
day, I have to have the money in this envelope!”. Anna impatiently waved the plastic baggy and
class form for cash-carrying.
Confused, I reminded her we’d done the book fair YESTERDAY.
“But... but... it’s class day! I want to get a book!
Everyone will be getting a book! IT’S CLASS DAY AND I WANT ANOTHER BOOK!”. Then the crying and wailing started.
I ignored her. I had breakfasts to make and two other kids
to get ready for the day. She just got louder.
Finally, unable to tune her out anymore, I loudly declared
that there was no way on Earth she’d be getting anything at all and if she didn’t
get it together immediately she’d be losing her book from the weekend as well.
I sent her off to wash her face and took some deep breaths. Her theatrics
continued, though, and we actually ended up missing the bus.
I was so upset, y’all. Seriously, not even so much mad as
upset. Disappointed, not just in her, but in myself. Where have I gone wrong that
my daughter so easily forgets everything she’s been given in her life?
And so was the Gratitude Project born. When Anna got home, I
cancelled her playdate. Then, after homework, we made a list of everything she’d
gotten in the last two weeks (mostly birthday presents) and I sent her over the
house to fetch it all as a visual reminder. THEN she sat down and wrote out a
thank you note for every single thing (something she was supposed to have done
already, anyway. Oops.). THEN I sent her upstairs with this directive.
Write a letter telling us what you are grateful for in your
life and what that means. I was clear that she was not to scribble out
something generic in five seconds She had to really THINK about it and go deep.
I will admit that the end had me a little misty. Afterwards,
Anna was in a very good mood, kind to her siblings and sweet to me. At bedtime,
she gave me an extra special hug and whispered in my ear, “I’m sorry I had a big
tantrum this morning, Mom. I love you”, which left me feeling very grateful and
blessed, too.
(The next day, Silvia came off the bus with a list from the
book fair people after HER class day. They’d made her write out a receipt for
the things SHE wanted, titles and prices, to “Take home and give to your Mommy
so she can get you JUST what you want and send the money with you tomorrow!”.
Wouldn’t if be nice if the school reinforced the right messages we’re trying to
teach them at home? Grrr. In Silvia’s defense, she only cried a little and then
agreed we should put it on her Christmas or birthday wish list for a later
date. Delaying gratification is hard at any age, so I was pretty proud of my
little five-year-old.)
After all this, I am reminded to stop and think about all
our own blessings. We are healthy and we have good insurance in case that
changes. Even if this house does feel too small sometimes, we DO have it over
our heads. Kurt, though it demands long hours, has a good job that supports us.
When there is a family emergency, we are able to respond and be there to
support our loved ones. I have no illusions about the the privileged life we
enjoy. I don’t think we have to be ashamed of it, but I don’t want to forget,
or let my kids forget, how lucky we are, either.
So the Gratitude Project continues, for parents and children
alike, in theory and in practice. We will build on it more and more as they grow... which could mean a lot
more letters to look forward to in the future. Hopefully not all of them will
be coerced!
1 comment:
And how do you know you're living in Texas...she's proud to be an American, too. :-)
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