Give Me a Dollar

I just have to start by saying that I tried to find this old Burger King commercial where two guys are sitting at the table in Burger King and the one guy says, "This is a Whopper...under a dollar!" and holds up a Whopper with a dollar bill on top of it. But apparently no one on YouTube remembers that one. (Then I tried to find the commercial where a guy is singing tunelessly in the shower and can't remember the words to the Big Mac song: "Two all-beef patties, some kinda sauce...pickles and onions and a lotta stuff too...woo woo woo woo." Also apparently not memorable for anyone else.)

Anyway, this post isn't actually about burgers; it's about about dollars. I had another mothering epiphany recently, similar to the Ask for a Hug phenomenon which I'm happy to note is still going strong. These things happen so infrequently that I have to note them when they happen. So the epiphany: You may or may not know that I have a bit of a temper. I really had one when I was a kid and I like to consider it my life's work to completely silence that sneaky Mr. Hyde. When I am old and demented, instead of reverting to the tantrums of my childhood--an instinct that for me, now, at age 30, is still a comfortable and familiar one--I hope to be smiley and kind and give everyone $20 bills, like Matt's Grandma Verla did. The thing is that her personality was already like that way before she got old, so I need to start early.

I saw the Orange Rhino blog floating around Facebook a month or two ago--a woman whose handyman accidentally caught her screaming at her kids and she was so embarrassed that she stopped yelling cold turkey--and it got my wheels turning. In most cases, I remain calm even when provoked (OK...unless really really provoked!), but sometimes I snap. Usually the snapping is during the second week or so of each month. #curses Hormones or not, I feel like the Orange Rhino--if I can generally keep from "being seen" screaming at my kids, then I must be capable of doing the same at home. The kids are my real audience. Who cares about the handyman. 

So, interested in forming some sort of accountability structure for myself, I announced to the kids in the car one day that I wasn't going to yell at them anymore, and if I ever did they should remind me that I had promised not to yell. My proclamation was met with, "Lars knows how to say POOP!" Undeterred by the non sequitur, and propelled by my own enthusiasm, I then extended the challenge to all in the car. "None of us will yell anymore! Ever!" The absurdity of that goal struck me and then I found myself saying that we would all charge each other a dollar every time we yelled at each other. I instructed them that if any of us needed to yell, we could go in an empty room or go outside, and yell at anything except a person. It didn't occur to me until later, by the way, that smart little Ida might goad Theo into yelling at her, in order to collect from him. She hasn't thought of that yet, but she will.

Also, maybe it's just me but I kinda feel like yelling at a kid who is running or has run into the street, or who otherwise is about to or just did narrowly escape death (the narrowness due to his own negligence), is appropriate and doesn't count.

I feel good about this new program, despite its inauspicious beginnings. I realize that Give Me a Dollar is a little more complicated than Ask for a Hug, and the kids may eventually run out of money. But it's not actually for them--it's for me. Sure, in less than a week Theo had to fork over $6 to me, $1 to Matt and $1 to Ida. But I didn't have to give anyone any money. So I consider that a success. Four whole days of success.