Do-Over No. 9: The Breakfast Redo

Remember that ridiculous attempt to feed the homeless guy on my sick day? I mean, I fed someone, so that’s great. But I never got a chance to feed the guy I wanted to.

In fact, this entire year, that man has been my constant reminder that I let this project slide. Whether he was on that corner or not, I’d pass through the intersection and think, I gotta get back on it.

I’m happy to report that, while I’m slow to recover, I am back on it … that guy finally got a warm breakfast and a cup of coffee on me. I’m late to work every day, so in the midst of chaos at home and in the office, what’s 15 more minutes?

I veered off course and swung through McDonald’s and got that dude a #1 with coffee and turned back around.

He truly was just some dude. He probably was just panhandling – I know a lot of them actually make a pretty good living at it and even pay for their homes that way – but even if  he didn’t need it, his reaction was worth the effort and designation on the list.

When I rolled down my window and said I got him breakfast, he was so happy! And not in a, “Thanks lady, I haven’t eaten in a week,” kind of way. It was more like, “Hey, that was a cool thing to do!” He didn’t seem weak or desperate. He just appreciated the gesture and was happy.

Happy.

When you give a person something, it’s an act that makes both parties feel good in a way that goes beyond need.

As with the early morning travel lady, I find that those who happily and graciously accept kindness actually give back to me, too.

Who knew?

Do-Over No. 4: Sharing the Sugar

Hell week continues. One of those that lasts so long you don’t know where “last week” ended and “this week” began. Lots going on, and that has meant some late nights in the office while the Little Guy is on a big adventure with Grandma and Grandpa.

I cover an industry that lends itself to lots of food samples — bread, chips, cake, cheesecake — you name it. If it’s baked or a snack, it’s showing up on my desk.

This week, I got two boxes of the most devilishly delicious cake bars. In case you’re wondering, “cake bars” are like cake “pops,” only they are about the size of a candy bar. I’ve been making a conscious effort not to stress eat during this time, but on this particular day, I had to try one … you know, in the name of “research.” The salted caramel shortbread cake bar was sinful. I’m talking Satan himself.

As the sun went down, those things kept staring at me, and I back at them. I pounded away at my keyboard, feeling their fiendish stare, taunting me. I reached for one … I stopped and returned an email. I reached for one … I stopped and edited an article. I reached for one … you get it.

Then the cleaning crew came around, and the girl changed out my trash can. I said, “Hey! You want to try something delicious? You gotta have one of these. In fact, you all can take them all! It will be a great pick me up.” No matter what your job, a sugar rush is a must when you’re working after dark.

The cool thing is that I worked late again tonight, and I got to ask her if she ate one. She did, and we talked about how wonderful they were. She said she was on a sugar high all night. You get after it, girl. Getchya some.

Those girls work so hard and. I’m really glad I got to share the sugar. Me? I’ll stick to the caffeine.

Do-Over No. 2: Early A.M. Travel Sucks

I’m on a whirlwind work trip right now. One of the best opportunities of my career — but also one of the most overwhelming.

My week started at 3 am Monday to hop on an early flight that would get me to Twin Falls, ID, by 10:30 am. I found out the day before that the person I was to interview would be on the connecting flight, which meant I had to get up early enough to make myself “work ready” for the flight. It took some time and got me off to a rough start.

By my layover in Salt Lake, I was hungry and hadn’t had so much as a sip of coffee. I finally found a Starbucks, and as I bumbled to get my credit card out, I dropped some cash on the floor. The lady behind me was kind enough to point it out for me. I thanked her and started on my way.

Then I stopped and turned around.

I waited for her to order, then leaned in front of her and told the cashier I’d like to pick up her breakfast. I turned to the lady and said, “Early morning travel sucks. Might as well do something nice.”

It was a small and easy act of kindness. Almost too small to include on the list. But there was something really great about it: her response. She was surprised, of course, but she didn’t ask why. And she didn’t fight me on it. She was just so happy and so grateful to receive it. Sure it was small and easy, but it was a quick moment of pure happiness. I offered kindness, and she welcomed it.

One short moment of hatred or violence — or even a moment of simple rudeness — can have lasting and far-reaching effects. I choose to believe that a short moment of kindness could have the same power.

I do know that I continued on this whirlwind trip, despite quite a few bumps and setbacks, with confidence and a bit of joy. I hope that lady did the same.

No. 26: Planting Seeds

I’ve mentioned before that I try to instill giving in the Little Guy. It’s a relatively easy task because he’s clearly wired with a generous spirit. But still, he’s 5, so it’s often a work in progress.

Last year, we started the strategy of asking his friends for donations at his birthday party and leaving the presents to his family. He was on board — at 4, he was still pretty open to suggestion. This year we weren’t sure, though, because he’d had a few more birthday parties under his belt. But the kid was on board, especially when he knew he was getting presents from his family, and he loved the idea of asking his friends to help him be a hero for his birthday.

We decided to go with Harvesters and ask his friends to bring food donations instead of presents. It had so many benefits — we could invite as many kids as we wanted, and parents didn’t have to stress over what to get him … and I didn’t have to stress over where we were going to put all the stuff. And because the “actual” gifts were coming from the people who know him best, the gifts were going to be things that meant the most to him. I even invited some kids I might not have otherwise, because it was only about coming to play with the Little Guy and eat cake — no pressure, no reciprocity.

Of course there’s the basic lesson we are teaching him about generosity and the expectations of gifts, which was the reason we wanted to do this in the first place.

But then at the party, something happened. A mom showed up with her daughter and a gift bag. I started to scold the mom for bringing a gift, and she said, “No, no! It’s just the food. It’s still a gift; why not wrap it?” This was a kid who was at his party last year, too, and the mom said, “I love that your son does this. So does she. In fact, on our way here, she said, ‘Mommy, on my next birthday, I want to do what Little Guy does. I don’t want presents; I want my friends to help me collect food, too!'”

I was taken aback for a second. Here I was, instilling a lesson in my son and feeling so proud of him for feeding his community, and I never though about the ripple effect it could have in other directions. The Little Guy was planting seeds of generosity with his friends, too. That means that our one act of kindness had the potential to double!

We’ll see how long we can sustain this tradition. It could be something that just becomes a part of him, or he could decide one year that he’s over it and wants to have a “traditional” birthday party. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But this year, I’m proud to include my kid on this list once again. I’m proud to see him take joy in being a hero with his friends and not cry for more gifts. I’m proud that his willingness to do so had a positive effect on his friend. I’m proud of him for choosing to make the world a little better.

And, perhaps a bit selfishly, I’m proud that Hubs and I had the courage to plant this seed and watch it spread.

No. 18: Cleaning Out the Toy Box

I’d never get Hubs to do the Love Language test, but if I did, my guess is that his would be gifts. He gets it from his mom. She expresses love (sometimes even mild affection or tepid appreciation) through giving gifts, big and small. This means Christmas at my house can go a little overboard.

I have to be honest, I hate hearing mothers who say things like, “We don’t allow our parents to get the kids more than two gifts,” or the rule of three because that’s how many gifts Jesus received, or the “one thing they want, one they need, something to wear and something to read.” It’s not that I disagree — these are extraordinary rules to live by, and props to those who can honor them. It’s not the world I live in, though, and hearing those things doesn’t do much more than make me feel like an inadequate parent.

Hubs and I have been together for almost 10 years now, and I have accepted my share of gifts from him, and I’ve watched his mom shower countless gifts over those she loves. I’ve tried to tell her that the “stuff” she gives will never be the measure of the love my son (or I) have for her, but the gifts continue. It’s her love language, and she passed that language to her son.

While I don’t fault them for this (it took some time to get used to, but I feel nothing but gratitude), it does lead me to worry that we are, despite the best intentions, teaching the Little Guy to be materialistic. (Sometimes when my mind’s idle, I draft up extensive lists of ways I fear I’m going to turn my kid into an asshole. Weird mom fears.)

So how could I keep him from becoming a spoiled, materialistic jerk without pouring water on Hubs and MIL’s love language? It’s impossible to control the gift-giving. Trying to control it would result in drama, hurt feelings and awkwardness (also known as the quintessential American Christmas). However, I can control what I teach him.

I do my best to teach him generosity, and I’m blessed to have a boy to whom this quality comes naturally. We give him a dollar for the church offering each Sunday; we encourage him to collect donations instead of presents from his friends on his birthday (that one’s a work in progress. We’ll see). And most of all he frequently and freely takes opportunities to share.

After Christmas, I asked him if he was ready to clean out his toy box and other play areas to make room for all the “big kid stuff” he got for Christmas. I told him we could donate the things he’d outgrown or didn’t use anymore. I was optimistic. Cautiously optimistic…he is in preschool, after all.

He was on board. Beautifully, enthusiastically on board.

I let him stay up an hour and a half past bedtime as we went through every spot in our house where a toy might live, and we sorted into “keep,” “trash” or “donate.” He was saying things like, “I’m too big for that…I don’t need that anymore…I want to give that to another kid.” In fact, one thing that we discovered he had two of, he said, “Mama, I’ll keep one, and the kid who gets it will have one just like mine!” I told him he was so generous to share that toy, and he said, “I’m not sharing it, Mom, I’m giving it.”

In the end, his “donate” pile far surpassed his “keep” pile. The next day, he accompanied his dad on the annual New Years Eve pilgrimage to the donation dropoff. As to be expected, he had a touch of giver’s remorse and asked if he could keep something back for himself. It was the McDonalds Happy Meal bucket that held all the little stuff he was donating. He didn’t want the little stuff. He wanted the McDonalds bucket.

I’m so proud of this kid’s generous spirit. I’d like to take all the credit for this act of kindness, but so much of came from his heart. I do feel like I’ve planted a seed of kindness for him, and by doing so, I also empower Hubs and MIL to live out their acts of love.

I still grind my teeth when I hear the high-road tales of accepting gifts, but I feel good about our setup, and at least I know it’s all based in love. And kindness.

Bonus Track

My bestie had a birthday a few weeks ago.

She and I have been besties for more than 25 years, and we’ve had a “thing” about birthdays for as long as I can remember. In fact, I actually can remember. She forgot my birthday in 1999 (other life circumstances created a context that burns this particular year in my memory). I came home from a weekend trip about a week after my birthday, and I heard this on my answering machine:

“Hey, it’s me. Listen. If we aren’t best friends anymore, I completely understand. Call me back…if you want to.”

Of course, I called her back, and after her profuse apologies for forgetting my birthday, I couldn’t help but laugh when I replied with this:

“Well, it wasn’t so much that you forgot my birthday as it was that you yelled at me on my birthday about not returning your lawnmower.”

We had a good laugh at the absurdity, and all was forgiven and right with the world.

Until six months later…when I forgot her birthday. After the profuse apologies came from end of the line, her only reply was, “Yesssss.” Redemption, in her opinion, could finally be granted. And from that point on, forgetting our birthdays has been our thing. Sure, we call or text — sometimes on the day, sometimes around the day. Once she called on my actual birthday to say she knew it wasn’t my birthday yet but didn’t want it to slip off her mind. Another year, she called two days before, just to say she was thinking of me but couldn’t think of why. There have been years where I have forgotten altogether, and once I tried to give her an actual gift, but it took me a full calendar year to deliver it.

Facebook puts a damper on the joke these days, but it’s still so wonderful to have a bestie whose only expectation is for you to fall short. This, ladies and gentlemen, is friendship at its finest. Love meets realism.

A few weeks ago, she invited me to get breakfast, and I wasn’t even thinking about the fact that her birthday was three days before — I’d already sent her a text and Facebook message (probably a day late). But when I walked into the restaurant, the light bulb went off. I can buy her lunch and give her a proper birthday! Ta-da! One for the list!

So when the server asked if we would be on one ticket or two, we both said — simultaneously — “One, please. I’m buying.”

Wait. What?

Apparently, her mom (who is known for being both kind and generous) paid her a hundred bucks to come over and feed the cat. She didn’t feel like she’d earned it, so she wanted to drop some kindness in my direction.

We must have argued for three-and-a-half minutes before our poor server said, “Wow. I really only needed to know if I was putting the orders on one ticket, so when I bring the check, I’ll just throw it in the middle and watch you fight for it.”

In the end, I let her pick up the tab. The kindest thing I could do wasn’t buying her a birthday breakfast. It was being open to receive her act of kindness. We had a wonderful meal and lots of chatter and laughter. She reminded me that we are not so much going on a path, but floating out at sea, doing our best to navigate when the winds unexpectedly turn.

I’m not counting this as an act of kindness. It’s just a bonus track and a reminder that sometimes it’s okay to take what you are dishing out. A lesson best administered by a bestie.

No. 5: Cloaked in Kindness

It started out with coats.

A couple of weeks ago, our pastor told a story of a little girl named Ava. Now in fourth grade, Ava is working on the third annual coat drive she organized with her friends, called “Ava’s Angels.” I remember hearing about this girl a year or two ago — she and her Angels collect coats by the hundreds each fall. I remember thinking how wonderful it would be if my Little Guy could grow up to have such a generous nature. How does a person become so giving? How does a parent teach that?

More importantly, how do I get this girl some coats?

I’m a procrastinator. Every fall, it’s guaranteed that I’ll miss the coat drive, and every year, I save the coats for the next one. And the cycle continues.

At the end of this particular sermon, Pastor said Ava was in her last week of collecting coats. Time! Time to get the coats, meet this amazing Ava, teach the Little Guy about generosity, and, oh yeah…add some kindness to my list.

I was able to get in touch with Ava’s mom, and last Sunday, I dropped a bag of coats at the church with a card attached for Ava and her mom (our schedules didn’t allow us to meet in person). To Ava, I congratulated her on another successful coat drive and told her how excited I was to be part of it. I reminded her — as I’m sure many have — that she’s changing the world. To her mom, I told her not to listen to anyone who says she’s “lucky” to have a daughter like Ava. That’s not luck; that’s good parenting at work.

Many years ago, I worked with a girl, a mom of three boys, who told me: “It drives me crazy when people see a ‘good’ kid and tell the parents, ‘You’re so lucky,’ but when they see a ‘bad’ kid, they blame the parents. Nobody ever praises parents for ‘good’ kids. ‘Good’ kids are ‘lucky.'”

I took that to heart, and I took it with me. Ever since then, I take any opportunity I can to praise parents when their kids do great things. As parents, we carry the weight of everything our kids do. And then we add some rocks into that baggage when we blame ourselves each time something goes wrong (or not as great as we expected).

This act of kindness started out as coats. But I got to do a little extra by spreading kindness to a deserving mom, too. I only wish I’d had time to get some tips and take some notes. I’ve never really believed in luck, anyway.