Confessions

In Church today we learned that there are 4 cancers to relationships: criticism, comparison, complaining, and competition. When I heard that, right away I knew that I needed to work on criticism. My mind went back to Friday afternoon:

At about 3:00pm, I got an email from Ms. Isler (Coulson's teacher) giving us a weekly progress report. This is one section:

"READING: As part of an incentive to keep kids reading, I would like to congratulate the following students for reading and taking AR tests during the course of the year. Congratulations to: Jaime, Jake F, Katie, Vaibhav, Corey, Isaac (25 point club), Kira, Piper, Susanna, Xandria, Jake B, John (50 point club), Christian, Bryan, Noah, Wesley, Nathan, Andy (100 point club), Jackson, Hannah (250 point club) and Coulson (500 point club). That’s a lot of reading, keep it up!"

So I was amazed. AR tests are comprehension tests that kids take on books that they have read. Points for each book are determined by the book's difficulty level as well as the student's comprehension. You have to read a LOT of books to score high. And wow! Not only was Coulson in the "500 point club," he was the ONLY one in it. I admit that I received this news with mixed feelings. One one hand, I am so proud of him! He's trying so hard to acheive and is doing it, but on the other hand, his nose is so often stuck in a book!

At 3:50, he, Aiden and Evie got off the bus to a 50-degree, sunny day here in February. The first thing Coulson did after his backback hit the floor is plop on the couch and read. Did I mention that it's beautiful, and it's the Pacific Northwest? I'm ashamed to admit what happened next.

"Coulson, it's a gorgeous day outside. Why don't you go shoot some hoops, or something?"
"Naw. I just want to read."
"Yeah, but you won't get many more days like this, and you know? There's more to life than books."
Well, this offends him and he says, "Mom, it's not like I read all the time. I just want to read today."
"All right, Mr. 500-point-club; I know you read a lot, and you'd better get outside!"
So Coulson stomped out and cried, "You can make me go outside, but you can't make me do anything!" He then slumped down on a stool on the back patio and glowered at the ground.

On the one hand, he was being a stinker, but on the other hand, what was I trying to gain by using this incentivizing info in a negative way to try to force my kid to enjoy the outdoors?

I opened the slider, "Coulson, forget it. Come in and read if you want." He knew how I felt, and he could make his own decisions.
"Mom, I just feel bad that you think that all I do is read."
"Coulson, your dad and I both spent a couple of hours a day playing outside. It's just hard for me to understand."
I didn't really say anything else. I just kind of went back to folding laundry, and he went back to his book, and that was where we left it.

Then Spence came home a couple of hours later, and I was chagrinned to hear what I should have said. With a great big smile, he walked over to Coulson, slapped him on the back, and said,
"Great job for being in the 500 point club, Coulson! I'm really proud of you!"

Yeah, ouch. That simple. Why didn't I think of that? Thank goodness there are two parents! In the meantime, I'll still encourage him to enjoy the outdoors, but I'll also try to be a little more positive and supportive about the good choices he's already making--even if they wouldn't be my choices. Besides, there are worse things in life than reading too much, right?

No Sugar!

So, Aiden came up to me a few weeks ago and asked what we would give him if he didn't eat sugar for a year. I kind of chuckled and told him I'd give him a big hug and kiss (that's my default answer for any "what will you give me" question. So then he tried his dad. His dad told him he'd give him a crazy amount of money. (I'm too embarassed to admit what it was) Well, he got motivated. And then Coulson said he wanted to jump on. You can't promise one thing to one kid and not have a universal policy. So double the antie.

I was sure this would last only until the following Saturday when Aiden was going to Smiley's birthday party (yes, that's his name. He has another name which nobody knows, and a very friendly mom named Mo). I was sure the minute the cupcakes and goodie bags came out, it would all be over, but no! Apparently the kid has a will of iron! What kid eats carrot sticks when chocolate cupcakes are being served?! Not MY kid, that's for sure. Well, he did.

And so it has continued. I bake cookies. They don't touch them. I put candy in their lunches; they trade it for chips for drinks (not pop). They've already started planning Halloween, starting with how they will stay home and help hand out candy, but have since moved on to going trick or treating to earn some "trade loot." Aiden, the younger, more naive brother has decided to donate 1/2 of it to his sisters. They are learning so much--delayed gratification, business dealings, confidence in their ability to resist temptation. But where does that leave their parents? I'll tell you where: in the poor house. Proud, but poor. As I'm pounding my third brownie, I stare--amazed and shocked at their ability to glance at me momentarily, and then walk away. I admire and chew, because I CAN multi-task afterall.

It's been a month now with no candy or sweets--oh, they can have light syrup on their waffles, homemade wheat muffins, and a pudding if we have it. Aiden's birthday is on Wednesday, and he's getting a "banana cake" (banana bread). He says that it's easy and that he's fine without it. He was even happy that a friend brought over treats for his birthday, so his family wouldn't have to go without. What does this mean? We'd better start saving. At least it won't be money spent on dentist bills.