Little Gifts
on mastering the art of self-bribery
When my daughter, Anna, was a little girl she had a non-stop mouth. The times when it readily grated on me was when we were trapped in the car on a long drive. I remember once asking her (for about the tenth time) to be quiet because it was raining hard and I was concentrating on the road. Out of frustration I raised my voice and probably said, “Anna. Shut up!” She got very quiet then, and, of course, I felt terrible. For about one minute; I noticed her looking out the window and prattling away in a much fainter tone.
“Anna,” I said, “Please!”
“Mom. I am not talking to you. I’m talking to the trees.”
Certainly I couldn’t be mad at a response like that, but the weather was terrible, I could barely make out the yellow lines, and we had a long journey ahead of us. Somehow I enjoyed a moment of mother brilliance, pulled off the highway at the next gas station and bought a package of M&Ms. She loved them, still does, and they were a rare treat as she was about four years old. When we got back in the car, this is how it went:
“Anna, Mommy needs to pay attention to driving right now. I love talking with you, but because it is raining it’s hard for me to pay attention to you, and to driving. We’re going to play a game and you are going to be absolutely quiet for five minutes. If you can do that, I will give you an M&M.”
It worked. We traveled almost a hundred miles on that package of candies. There were a few moments of chatter, but mostly she was silent as a statue. She relaxed into colouring in her colouring book, and I paid attention to driving—but not the clock. When I sensed her getting ready to spill open again I would say, “Hey! You have a few more seconds,” and she would quiet down for a short time more. It worked great; little rewards along the way. Happy child, happy mother.
It’s hard for young children to sit still and also be quiet for long periods of time, at least it was for her. Yes, it was bribery, and sugared bribery at that, but sometimes we need a little incentive to keep on a task that’s difficult for us, no matter what our age. It’s also hard as an adult to keep on muddling (see, I love that word 🙃) through the days of responsibilities and sometimes even drudgery, often denying ourselves the pleasures we enjoy most so we can get the necessary stuff out of the way. For the most part I have learned how to keep my own self happy and motivated enough to get through the tough times, and I’m pretty lucky to have plenty of what I call the blissful days. We all know that not every day is a blissful day. Sometimes we even get a long stretch of weeks (months) where it seems we’re being shadowed by a little black rain cloud no matter how blue the sky is outside. And doesn’t it always seem like that’s when the car breaks down, or the washing machine stops working, or you end up getting the flu for the first time in years? Murphy’s Law. It happens.
Shit happens.
No, not every day is a blissful day, but when those extra wonderful days do come along few and far between we can really appreciate them. Even knowing that they come around at all is a great motivator to get through the murky times, but I’m learning that I can make even the darkest day a little better for myself with a bribe or two.
I made a list in my treasured notebook companion of some simple things that never fail to bring me joy. These are not all material things that I can hold in my hands. One of the things on my list is a short walk down the nearest path at the farm, only twenty minutes out of my day and yet there are still times when it just doesn’t seem possible. Another is to put crazy music on and dance with my cats; they may not find joy in it, but heck, they always survive. I also wrote down “five dollars to spend at The Book Worm,” our local used book store where a few bucks buys a hardcover. Or how about a long, hot bath with a good book and a cold beer (In the middle of the day)? Or the permission to buy myself one fresh flower at a real florist, all wrapped up in tissue and tied with a bow. Yep, just one, and one is all anyone really needs, and certainly won’t pillage the pocketbook. I even wrote down some of the amazing things about my life, to remind myself of how much I really do have to be grateful for. It may seem like a juvenile trick, but I’m thinking we all have days when our moods and motives are that of a four year old, at best. Bribery works. And yeah, chocolate is on my list. And so is a brand new box of sixty-four crayons.
Chances are that on the days I really need one of these bribes, I won’t even feel like acknowledging that list in my notebook. I’d be more likely to catapult it across the room or into the bag of cat poop before I stuff it in the garbage can outside. “Take that! You can’t tell me I’m not too busy or stressed to remember that this is just a little bump in the road. I’m dying here! Life sucks!” No, I can’t be trusted to remember to look in my notebook and choose a little gift for myself. I had to write them each down (there are twenty things) on scraps of paper and stuff them into an empty coffee mug up in my cupboard, because I’m always reaching for a coffee cup to fill when I’m having a frantic day, aren’t you? Now, all I have to do is reach in and pull one crumpled up piece of paper out. Even if I can’t bring myself to do what it says, it might just muster a smile. I’ve used this trick a few times now, and somehow it has had the power to turn my mood around, remind me that I can tackle anything if I’ve got a metaphorical M&M waiting for me, right?
The writer Iris Murdoch once said that the secret to a happy life is continuous small gifts. I can think of many more secrets to bouts of happiness, but I think Murdoch had a very good point. When life proves to us that Murphy’s Law is alive and well, when the cat throws up on your new white nightgown you just laid out on the bed, or like last night when he jumped on the kitchen counter when I left the room for one moment and helped himself to the fresh basil and then threw it up on the plate of vegetable I had sliced, or when the bill that you sent in three days ahead of its due date arrives back in your mailbox for lack of zip code, well, I’m thinking that a little treat might be in order. Little gifts. They might not change my world, but they sure can soften the edges.
What are some of your little gifts you reserved for when you need them? I could use a few more ideas for my mug.
A trick I use – but you won't be able to – is… watching a Patreon video by Kateri! That's a huge reward ❤️ Another one? Art and Spirit Studio…
Thanks, Kateri. Your note and lovely watercolors were a little gift for me this morning. Dandelion lesions are a pleasant surprise to find in my in box too, even though I know they are coming.
One of my favorite treats is what I call, tea with Annie. Annie was a very good friend. The kind of friend that listens gently—no judgment, no criticism. If I was upset or worried, it was as if she just absorbed the sadness and melted it away. If I was happy or had something fun to share, she was all in. Annie loved Genmaicha, green tea with roasted rice. She called it popcorn tea because the toasted rice looks like tiny kernels of popcorn. Because she was a quadriplegic, she had to talk me through the very precise process of brewing it—just the right amount of tea, water at the right temperature, brewing time not too long, not too short. Sadly, Annie died a couple of years ago, but whenever I am feeling a bit down or up or somewhere in between, I hit the pause button, brew a cup of popcorn tea, and think of Annie….and smile.