A Bowl of Puke-ish-ness and Some Life Lessons On the Kitchen Floor

My resolutions are going much better this month!  I have been compiling a list of common misdeeds in this house and it turns out all I had to do was set out a notebook with a pencil and write down what happened to me over the subsequent few hours as things happened, and sha-bang, thar' she blows.  (all while going about my regular tasks)  It's really not amazing, if you think about it, that in a normal day I'd face pretty much all the discipline problems I face most days; list, not as hard as I thought.

Step two.  I sat my kids down (I know I am supposed to sit myself down, too, I will get to it, eventually).  We had a patched-together family home evening born of my newly pencil-scrawled list.  One thing that is coming together in my brain as far as a yearly resolution, that has slowly taken shape, is that I really really want to do better at preparing for these once-a-week formal teaching moments, especially while my kids still see them as a treat and not a chore.  But for this night, I had to think all of this up about 10 minutes before start time, while I listened to the muffled thud and shouts from an energetically improvised pajama-donning ceremony-turned-game upstairs.  (my husband was gone)

Here is what I did.  I grabbed two similar looking bowls.  In one, I scooped some lovely chocolate ice cream.  In the second, I mixed all sorts of edible items, that when mixed together, were sort of throw-up-ish.  Tuna fish, vinegar, chocolate chips, baking soda (foamy reaction, oops, I forgot), blah, blah.  Then, on top of the ice cream,  I poured good old fashioned Cheerios, so none of the ice cream could be seen.  On the second bowl of slimy yucky-ness I poured a nice sugary layer of Apple Jacks or something like that.

When the kids came in, we gathered as a wiggly little bunch around the dinner table.  I asked them which bowl they would rather eat from.   They could tell it was a trick question.  Darn.  Then I told them, now acting as their parent, I would advise them to eat the Cheerios.   Then I gave them the choice-- and watched those little hands vie for spots in grabbing Cheerios and stuff them in breathlessly smiling-chatty mouths; pretty soon they discovered what was underneath.  I let them grab a spoon and demolish the ice cream-- they were pretty excited about that.  My six year-old kept prematurely announcing a punchline-- "and that is why Mom's fat."  (thinking I was talking about healthy eating and using myself as the counterpoint, she said this several times, even to the point of coming over to show everyone how my belly jiggles)

Then I showed them the yucky stuff under the sugar cereal.  And I explained that often something that is good for you in the long run requires more effort or sacrifice in the short run (like exercise or hard work), and that often things that provide instant gratification don't provide long-term happiness (like drugs).  That parents often know what lies under those superficial layers, and when we ask them to do something, it is for their own good, and not just our own self gratification.  

At this point everyone was getting wiggly, and one child took up a new family favorite post, on the floor near the heating vent, from whence was pouring some nice pillowy hot air.  I gave up on the table idea and told everyone they were free to sit on the floor, to a clamor of delighted exclamations as they wasted no time in relocating to the warm spot in the kitchen.   So we finished the lesson this way:  they were all snuggled and jumbled together on the kitchen floor.  I looked at them in the eyes and I told them how much I love them.  I told them that it is hard for me to discipline them, because I don't like to do it.  But that the life consequences for a lack of discipline now could be severe and long-lasting and distasteful, just like that bowl of tuna-smelly vomit-like stuff hiding under the Apple Jacks.  And that our ultimate goal for them is self-discipline, we're just helping them get started.

I wanted them to understand as I get a little stricter with rules and enforcement, that I am on their team.  That I am doing it out of love for them so they can have a happy life.  They were surprisingly quiet and still.  And even though my six year old was still confused as to how the lesson topic changed from Mom needs to lose a few pounds to this, I think they understood.  I'm so glad that before I start being a better enforcer, they know I'm doing it because I love them.  Even if they don't always like it.

I love these little guys.  I love their innocence and their eagerness to learn, and their, just, genuine goodness.   Even if it doesn't always translate to perfect behavior, their hearts are so big and loving and pure.  I'm learning from them even more than anything I'll ever teach them.  Even if they are completely honest about my jiggly belly and treat-eating ways.