Rasing Future or Present Oriented Kids

Recently I watched a video from the Royal Society for the encouragement of the Arts. It was a video on our perceptions of time. The speaker was Philip Zambardo author of The Paradox of Time. In this ten minute speech he explains how as a society we tend to be either past, present or future oriented. He also explains how this affects our children.

While watching this video he touches on the fact that future oriented children know that things like doing drugs, having unprotected sex, or drinking can cause them problems in the future and they are willing to put off that initial gratification to protect their future. Unfortunately, all of the propaganda we aim at out children are aimed at kids who understand and plan for the future....in other words...they get it...they don't need us to preach to them. It is the kids who are present oriented, who cannot move beyond living in the now...immediate gratification, the I-want-it-and-I-want-it-right-now! behavior. Kids who are unable to save even five dollars, kids who put off doing a job until the very last minute, kids who never start on a project until the night before it is due.

This reminds me of a YouTube video I have seen many times...in our house we refer to the action of immediate gratification as "licking the marshmallow." In this video you will see pre-school aged children presented with a hard decision. They are presented a marshmallow and told by the adult that they (the adult) have to leave for a few minutes, but if they (the child) can resist the marshmallow until the adult comes back they will be rewarded with a second marshmallow. The wait time ranged from fifteen to twenty minutes. For a four year old....this is eternity.

The video is hilarious, but it also brings to light some very interesting knowledge about the ability to delay gratification. You see kids doing everything in their power to ignore the marshmallow, others have to touch it, sniff it, pick it up and pat it on their lips, desperate for just a taste, a sniff, bringing that tantalizing object closer and closer. Some try to be sneaky about it, they pinch little nibbles off the sides or bottom in the hopes it will be just enough to leave them not wanting more and get them through this time. Then there are the ones who just pop the marshmallow in their mouths...who needs a second marshmallow when you have a perfectly good one in front of you at this very moment?

But the most interesting point in this study did not come until many years later. The doctor who conducted the study had used many children from his daughter's school. As the children grew up he noticed a trend. The children who were able to delay gratification were the ones who scored higher on ACTs, were the ones who went on to more successful lives. The ones who were not able to wait, tended to have problems in high school and later on in life. This idea is very telling and explains to us, as parents the need we have not to give into the desire to gratify our children's every desire and wish.

I was thinking about this the other day...especially as it pertained to food. I remember that going out for a meal consisted of getting cleaned up, getting into the car, driving to a restaurant, sitting down, ordering, waiting for food and then, finally the food would arrive. We ate politely, quietly and were in no hurry as this was a time to be savored and enjoyed.

In contrast, when our children are taken out to eat today, they are placated with play rooms, crayons, coloring books....and on it goes. Many parents today become angry, even argumentative that they are just children, behaving like children and other adults should learn to accept them, as they run around the table screaming after four Mountain Dews.

I have been in restaurants where parents have no control over their kids. I have seen them just stop short of dragging a toy chest in with them and a child still cannot sit and play quietly for the 20 minutes it takes for food to come. Don't get me wrong...I had the same issues with my kids. Taking four kids into a place to dine is like visiting a petting zoo. And I am just lucky if I don't have to send one to the car.

But even better today, eating out can consist of being in the car already, pulling into a drive-through, ordering and in a matter of 1-2 minutes having your food handed to you in your car....but not only do you get your food in the car...you get a toy! and a sugared up caffeinated drink...to go in your drink holder. You never have to leave your car.

Immediate gratification versus delayed gratification. Sure...there are some benefits to immediate gratification...sometimes it is ok to lick the marshmallow. But we should remember, that immediate gratification should be the exception, and never the rule.


But look at how our children are being propagandized....Commercials tell them they need toys right now. Schools reward mediocrity....and give a prize for just showing up. Television shows tell us how wonderful we all are just the way we are....even if we are lazy, don't do school work, or are belligerent.

A recent study wanted to see what the allure was to repetitive type video games. Games that required the same action over and over again...like a wheel of fortune sort of game and outcome. In this study there was a button to be pushed to win a prize. They had three selections for the gamer. In Game A, you were rewarded every single time. In Game B, you were never rewarded. In Game C you were randomly rewarded. In both Games A and B they found that kids had no interest in playing. It was only in random rewards...given when the gamer was not expecting it that kept the gamer playing on.

What does that mean to us as parents to these little minds? It means that while we know we should reinforce the behavior we are looking for a child does not need, nor want to hear every single time they do something that they have done something right. Rather, the praise, in a random pattern, when least expected, does the most good. Delayed gratification


Even if, we as parents, try to limit the barrage on our children....we tell them no, they are still overloaded by the world to want more. I recently went through Wal-Mart with my 14 year old. She had asked me for 12 items...not in the store, just things she thought of as we walked through the store, while shopping. When I pointed this out to her she was rather shocked. Consumerism begets greed.

It all comes down to being willing to be the parent...not the friend. To be the one who can say no to a child..and teach him or her to say no to themselves.

Link to RSAnimate: The Secret Powers of Time
Link to the Marshmallow Experiment
Link to the Wikipedia Article and the Follow Up Studies

Christmas Traditions

I grew up in a family that had tradition out the wazoo. We had a tradition for just about everything. From Thanksgiving day, and watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, football and just being with family, to the day after Christmas...we had traditions that followed us all throughout the month.

But I will never forget when I first got married. I wanted to make sure that my husband's family was well represented. That he did not feel like there were only my traditions and none of his...although, of course my family traditions were better.

So our discussion went something like this:

Me: "Hon...I want to make sure we do things that your family has always done too...what are your family traditions."

**long pause**

Him: "uh well, I am not sure."

Me: "Well...I mean, how can you not be sure? There has to be things you did every single year. What were those things? We can do those things."

Him: "Well, see that is just it...we really never had any."

Me: "Any what?"

Him: "Traditions"

Me: "How is that possible?"

Him: "Uhm...Well, we just never did."

Me: "Never did what?"

Him: "Anything traditional."

Me: "Nothing?"

Him: "Not that I recall."

Me: "No tree decorating? No Stockings? No caroling? No cookie baking? No....nothing???"

Him: "We watched my sister decorate the tree sometimes."

Me: "No Charlie Brown Christmas? No wrapping presents? No Christmas cards? No looking at lights in the neighborhood? Really?"

Him: "Really...nothing."

About this time he would remind me that I needed to blink and close my mouth as I stood with it agape. It wasn't that his family didn't have a tree, stockings, presents, turkey dinners, and so on...it was just that certain people had certain jobs and the family was not involved. I was gobsmacked.

Twenty-two years and five children have past since that conversation. We have invested ourselves into many family traditions. And I think everyone is the richer for them. At some point I have heard some moans...and some groans...but everyone usually laughs and participates. Typically they will even remind me if a tradition has been forgotten, which means that while they tease and moan and groan, deep inside, they love that we have things that they can count on.

And I think those are the things that, as we grow up, move away and start our own families are what we pull to ourselves to comfort us and make us feel as if we are with our loved ones once again.

My son is now serving in the United States Army as a combat medic. I am so very proud of him. I spoke with him on Thanksgiving Day and it warmed my heart to hear him say that he had a nice Thanksgiving meal, but it wasn't the meal that I always made....the food he was use to and he missed his apple pie. You see, we have a tradition in our family that every single person chooses their favorite dessert and I

make it for them. I have made up to fifteen desserts, but this

year I only made seven. And an apple pie was not among the dishes. That is Joseph's chosen dessert every single year. And

he missed it this Thanksgiving. He also said that he woke up and watched Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade....I knew deep inside that he, even by himself, was carrying on a tradition that was part of our family.

And that is what these traditions do...they start off small, step by step and become the seams of a family quilt. They are part of a larger picture, part of what it means to be a family. Part of what it means to belong.

And belonging is one of the most wonderful feelings in the world.

Lesson on "Failure"

I recently participated in something big.

It was an adventure. Something that most of us would think, "Gosh that would be fun! And I bet I could do it" but rarely do it.

I went to an open casting call for MasterChef. I went with the knowledge that there were thousands applying across the country. I went with the knowledge that my chances ranged somewhere between slim and none. And I went because, well...what did I have to lose?

It wasn't money, because all they asked you to bring was a dish that they judges could taste. I lived close enough that the gas was really only about $30. So really there was nothing in the long run to be lost.

And there was a lot to be gained. There were possibilities. I could win. I could win $250,000. That is a lot of money...a lot. I could publish my own cookbook. I could spend 6 weeks on a television show doing something I love. And I could gain perspective from people other than family and friends of what my food really tasted like.

I made it to the third round of selections. I am on a call back list, but chances are they will not call me. They said it happens all the time. But as I listened to the names they called I knew two of them were right....I stood between both of them...one was a girl, she was around 5'7", she had legs that started right under her chin, blond hair that was perfect and a face that was gorgeous. She probably weighed 98 pounds...soaking wet...holding a brick. And her name was Jessica. Oh hell, who am I kidding? I would have switched teams for this girl. I would have expected that she worked in retail, or was a secretary, or possibly even a teacher or a lawyer.

No....as television want...television gets....no one...no. one. would ever guess this girls job. She is a farmer. And as every producer sees this glamazon suddenly in overalls and galoshes and dollar signs in front of his eyes I sort of knew..."Yeah...she is sooooo on this show. They are insane if they pass this one up."

And I got to go after her. Lovely. So then I spoke with the producers and told them about me...just a computer nerd. Mom to five. No glamazon-farmer here.

And so the next guy? He is a metal head, loves to cook with SPAM...his job title? He is a professional puppeteer. I am pretty far down the coolness chart at this point. And I know. I know at this point I have made it as far as I am going to.

And so...what what did I come away with? As I walked away from the auditions I felt like this mark of failure was on me. I had failed. I didn't make it on the show. I didn't get to compete. I suck.

But on the way home I really began to self analyze...what really is failure? Dictionary.com defines failure as "an act or instance of failing or proving unsuccessful; lack of success" In the end I suppose that would depend on what you would define as success....and perhaps deeper than that, how you measure it.

Now I am not one of those people that believes every single child should get an award just for showing up to the race. Success should be shown by marked improvement. Relying again upon Dictionary.com, they define success as "the favorable or prosperous termination of attempts or endeavors." In other words, when you have reached a better outcome, you quit.

Looking back, I think that I did not fail. What I did was accomplish something I set out to do. I gained feedback from people other than my family than friends. I did really well. In the scoring I scored 4.5 and 5 out of 5 on my dish on all levels. I also had the puppeteer propose to me after he tasted my chai whipped cream...but that is another story.....

I believe that what I gained was a perspective. I know what it is like to go to an open casting call now. It is incredible exciting...until they make stand outside for 45 minutes to yell at a camera and scream "I AM!" when asked who is the next MasterChef?

All in all, I had fun. Even with the thoughts of what it would be like to be on a TV show. And it was an adventure. My failure? Not wearing warm enough shoes.

So look real close in the Chicago crowd...see that shivering girl with the hair blowing in her face in the first three episodes? Yep..that is me! I made it to the big time.

Grocery Stores

I may be in the minority...but let me just say it: I love to grocery shop. I know many would rather have a root canal without Novocain than do their grocery shopping, but I take a certain pride in my job. I always have. But I find the difference in the ways people shop most fascinating.

Some carry a small office with them, the front of the buggy filled with a drink, the coupon organizer, ads for the week, lists, menus and calculators. For them...this is serious business. These are the women who can buy a cart full a food for $.98 and get $29 in coupons for next week. Their families may be eating beef tongue and rutabagas this next week...but by god, it was next to free!

Then there are the women like me. (Of course, we are more reasonable.) I carry a calculator, but I never steer from that which I normally buy. I am fairly brand loyal and will tend toward making the same meals in a two to three month period and those staples are always on hand. I do not buy cookies. I do not buy soda, kool-aid or juice. I will usually buy one bag of chips or pretzels a week. Prepared foods? Not this girl....not if I can help it.

Then you see the other women...the ones who have done this for so long they no longer need a list...they know what they are getting without even looking. Or the ones who have just started into grocery shopping...either having just moved out on their own...or newly married. They study, read labels, try to figure it all out. In the end they do...because they shopped and cooked with their moms...they know what they need...it comes to them in the end.

But my favorite? The ones I really enjoy sort of coasting behind and spectating? The men. No...not the single guys who are there because they need some frozen pizza and pot pies....but the husbands. The guys standing in the isles looking at the shelves with a list clutched in one hand and a sort of lost stare. They know, you see. They know if they stand there long enough some woman will come along and ask them if they need help.

It is like a dog whistle. We see the stare, the list and we know that some woman is at home having sent her husband to the store for something...we have this image; she has just had surgery and cannot do this herself...and she is relying on him to bring home the stuff on that list. We hear the call....the dog whistle...that says, "Please help him...he knows not what he does." and he reinforces our nurturing nature...by just standing there and looking from the list to the shelf and back again.

So, well played. We walk over and say, "Can I help you? You look like you are having trouble finding something."

And they scratch their heads...and they laugh a bit...and they hand you this list.

Run.

Run now.

Because the second you take the list...you will be helping them through the entire store. But you are nice, so you look at the list.

Well, of course this poor guy is confused...silly man. You are in the vegetable isle looking at canned creamed corn and your wife asked you to get cornstarch. The next thing you know you are explaining to him how to pick out a fresh pineapple and how to check the price per ounce on peanut butter. Lessons he will not remember longer than it takes him to smile at the cute redhead cashier.

I learned my lesson many years ago as one of those wives. I had just come home from the hospital having delivered my first child. Having been settled in, my husband and his best friend offered to run to the store for me. I had not expected to be in need of certain feminine products and my husband gallantly offered to pick those up for me while at the store. "I have the best husband in the world," I thought.

It was about an hour later that I received a call from him. He explained that he was standing in the isle with Roger, his friend and a women who had stopped to help them and a cashier who had come over. They were all discussing the pros and cons of my situation having just given birth and now being in need of these products. They were now fully educated on wings, overnight protection and deodorizing products by these women, having talked about this for the last 20 minutes. They just could not all come to a conclusive decision and needed my final input on what I wanted.


Death...death would have been good.

Organization

Give me any kind of store and I am usually in and out pretty quick....even shoe shopping. I am not one for long hours of trying on, longing looks and then back and forth dilemmas filled with drama. Usually, I have an idea of what I am looking for, and am in and out of a store in a few minutes. I am fairly efficient in how I go about getting what I need.

However....

There is a store that can bring me to my knees. One that I can stand around and fondle things, ogle, stare at prices, waffle back and forth worse than a line cook at IHOP. Any kind of stores that carry organizational containers, or office equipment. It is a weakness of mine. You see, I harbor this undying dream of being one of those Type A personalities whose house is effortlessly spotless, who knows where everything is, because everyone puts thing back where they belong..because they have a home and we all know where that is. Whose closets are never in disarray, whose laundry is always done, or just about to be done. Whose kitchen drawers just have a place for everything and.....well you know.

My mother was innately one of those beings. She was able to train my father to become one. But I was the lost cause. I was the poster child for ADHD long before they ever knew it existed and found myself, when sent to my room to clean sitting at my desk going through my year book....with no idea of how it happened. My mother would get furious, I was not working, I was being lazy. She would then stay with me and clean side by side, instructing me on what to do next. All this was done in the hopes that this would train me, teach me these innate rules my mother just knew.

Sadly, it never took. And an organized house is not something that someone else can do for another person. Sure, they can help here and there, but truth be told, it is a process that has to be gone through...it is a labor...almost like conceiving and giving birth. So in my first years of living alone...I struggled...boy did I struggle. And later on, once I was married, it was difficult also.

How does someone just know when it is time to clean the walls? When do you know it is time to wash windows? And when do you stand back and say to yourself, "Self, it is time to get out a rag and dust off every photo in the house to make sure none is clinging to the walls." How do you know these things? I mean do you wait until that unsightly gray web dangles from the side of your picture frame...one that you cannot even blame on a spider? Or do you do it every week so it never builds up? Or just every once in a while...but then...how do you remember? These are not things that I just "get". Art...I get. Cooking...I get. Sewing...I get. But this has always been something that I need prompts on.

And then there are all the organizational tools...boxes, cartons, jars, bottles, baskets, etc.....They make your living room/dining room/kitchen/bedroom/bathroom look so pretty...so fabulous...so neat. And I buy into the con...if I just had the 'open canvas bins in small, medium and large with adjacent label holders so that they can be used in either direction' my rooms would be stunningly spotless! THIS is what I have been missing!

And then I fall back. I begin to think of all the things I could place in the bins..where I could place them. How many I would need...and suddenly I have spent over $500 and my house would look like a warehouse.

So, I do not buy the open canvas bins....and I take a deep breath. I realize that yet again, my overwhelming desire to be what I am not.....innately organized...is not going to come with the purchase of canvas bins. It comes with my being diligent with myself. With slowly pacing myself to purge those things which are not being used. I try new systems to make myself and my family more organized...but no one system is going to fit all...it is trial and error. And I step away from the lavender scented drawer liners and drawer organizers....and realize that the system must come first....then I can buy the adorable organizers!

Cooooo-kies

If asked, "you can only have one food type for the rest of your life, what would you want it to be?" My answer, without question would be cookies.

I love cookies. Let me rephrase. I. Love. Cookies.
A good cookie to me has just the right amount of "dough" ratio to "stuff".

I choose cookies because they have that place that is not just for toddlers, but for adults, and the elderly. A cookie is always acceptable. A cookie is warmth, home, love and can be held in your hand.
And there are a gazillion flavors...I should never get bored.

However, there is an art to a good cookie. An overly packed cookie becomes too granola-candy bar like. And too little and it may as well be a cracker. Nope...it is a careful balance to reach that point where you have just the right chip/nut/special ingredient ratio to the dough. It is the nirvana of cookie-ness...it is that zen of mommieness.

This is important stuff. A good cookie also hangs on just the perfect texture. You must have a perfectly browned edge...that cookie should be crispy on the edges with the slightest crunch and still chewy in the middle. NOT RAW. Let me make that perfectly clear. Not Raw. I have known people who have pulled out cookies before they were close to even being brown, pronouncing them done because they wanted something still slightly akin to cookie dough.

Look, if you want cookie dough, by all means, eat the cookie dough. But if you are going to bake the cookie...bake the damn cookie.

So, here you have the perfect food in my opinion...you have crunchy, chewy, you have soft spots and then chunky spots. You can eat it in its raw state or cooked stated. And think of it..you can have anything from a shortbread to a whoopie pie...there are so many different kinds of cookies that you could be busy from now until the end of time eating cookies and still not try them all. Oh it is a good, good thing to know that you could always be the person allowed to eat the last cookie. That you could dunk in coffee, hot chocolate, milk....or hey...in a pinch hot tea. It is all so good and comforting.

It is the tao of cookie monster. Peace out dudes.

Autumn

I know I fall into a large crowd and it is a commonality to say that my two favorite seasons are spring and Autumn. But really, how can they not be? I do love summer as it warms up and you have those hot days, but a week of temperatures well into the 90s with 80+ humidity has me wishing for cooler, crisper days. And in the bleakness of winter, when the snow is not fresh on the ground...it is just cold, and the holidays are over, I long for the ground to sing out, and to plant and play in the dirt again. Perhaps it is the length of summer and winter that cause me not to favorite them. They are like family members who come, weighing in on your good favor and hospitality, and in the end, end up staying far beyond their welcome. As Ben Franklin said, "Guest and fish all begin to stink after three days." Also too, seasons, after 60 days have worn out their welcome. And to be honest...I think Ben was a little harsh on the relatives.

But the truly beautiful seasons, the ones that really leave you with the desire to be outside in their glory and enjoying the world...those are the ones that never overstay their welcome. And Autumn is one of them, he shyly slips in, tipping edges of leaves on tress that we might not even notice if we don't pay attention closely, are not looking for his coming. Then, all of a sudden we look up and there is a tree, in its glory, dressed in its best for the season before anyone else.

You know, everyone has seen that one tree, the one that turns before all the others, like the early arrival and over-dressed member of a party, but one by one all the others follow suit and it is a glory to marvel. And as soon as it happens, we begin. We begin this parade of fall sweaters, hoodies, scarves, barn jackets, little woolen caps and all the cute fall clothes come out from storage. We shake things out that have been packed away for the last 5 months and recall how much we like wearing them.

The fall decorations begin to make their way into the house, pumpkins on tables, candles in windows, wreaths on doors and apples in baskets in the kitchen. We think in scents rather than in seasons, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, heady warming spices that make us want to be part of hearth and home. Soup pots come out and get filled with warming stocks and stews that fill us with comfort.

The most wonderful thing about Autumn is that it is culminated in a final feast. What other season can say that? Just as we end out glorious season and begin the trek headfirst into winter and are blitzed with holiday after holiday, we end this comely little season with a feast that celebrates our family, our time together and how thankful we have all been for what we have had this past year. It is the Hallelujah Chorus to the end of the most visually stimulating seasons and we have our senses tingling as we end November on a crescendo of music, food, nature, and life.

And as if a tired old actor, in their final scene, the trees, who just a few weeks ago wore their glory like a red carpet array, now slowly draw up the darkness of a bed of dark brown leaves, nod their sleepy heads and tuck in for a long winters nap. We applaud their last efforts knowing they will be back again, and then....we wait.

macaroni and cheese

I love macaroni and cheese. Use to be that I loved the plain old box stuff....just throw it in a pan and in about 15 minutes you could fill your stomach for $.64 and not have to worry about much anything else. It was quick, simple and had enough calories that you could easily gain 10 pounds a month if you ate it too much.

It wasn't until my, then 5 year old son, and I were walking through the grocery store playing the game of "Where did this come from?" You know, "Where does milk come from?" His reply, "A cow!"
"And where do carrots come from?"
"A garden!" It wasn't until we reached the boxed food isle that I thought we could have some fun. I held up a box of macaroni and cheese and asked, "Where does this come from?" I figured he would get the cheese part, but maybe be a little stumped on the macaroni part. No. His answer was, "A box!"

It was a moment of clarity for me. My son believed that macaroni and cheese didn't have a real origin, didn't begin with flour, egg and a bit of oil, molded into dough and formed into small tubes to make pasta, that butter, flour, cream, cheese and some seasoning created a cheese sauce. He only knew that macaroni came from a box and orange powder came from the envelope inside. The moniker of macaroni and cheese just that...as there was no recognizable cheese in this box.

I stood there and had my epiphany. I put everything in my cart that was prepared back. It all went back. I began my grocery order all over again, this time with an eye that said, "if we want pizza, I will make pizza. If we want lasagna we will make lasagna. And if we want macaroni and cheese, we will make macaroni and cheese....from scratch." My cart now had fresh ingredients, nothing in boxes, cans or bags. And it was a good feeling for me.

I came home that night and made macaroni and cheese. From scratch. It was cheesy. It was filling, it was delicious. And my kids didn't know what it really was, I had to explain that this is what real macaroni and cheese is. They were perplexed.

Since that time I have become a sort of culinary purist. I believe that you use the best ingredients you can find. I believe that you respect what the earth gives you and choose local and seasonal as much as possible. I believe that you respect the life of the animal that gave up its life for you to cook it. I try to learn new techniques as often as possible. I try to learn every day. I try out new flavors on my kids and husband every chance I get.

The above meal? Macaroni and Cheese....but it is elevated to a new level. I added lump crab meat and sauteed portabello mushrooms. My family thought it to be one of the best things they have ever eaten.

Sin

Most who know me know that I am a religious person. I am not the type of person who claims their religion to attend only on Christmas and Easter and then have no one know me in the church. I am an active member of my church and attend most Sundays. Many would say that attending church does not make you religious, and they are right. However, I am not one to say I am a religious person and then spend my Sundays cleaning my house and doing laundry.
To that end, I am also a sinner. Many years ago I use to belong to a church that was non-denominational in belief. It encouraged you to constantly perfect yourself. Sermons were based on, "This is your sin, and here are the three steps to rid yourself of it." Morality was the measured by peers and watched by everyone. It was a constant, almost contest of who could one-up the next person. "I don't listen to secular music."
"Oh, well I don't listen to secular music, and I don't watch TV."
"I stopped doing that years ago, now I pray for an hour every day, and I no longer wear jewelry, makeup."
"Yes, I know how close that brings you to God! When I did that I also started to only wear skirts and began homeschooling my children."
"Homeschooling my children has changed my relationship with God, and since that time I have also started canning all my own food and grinding my own wheatberries to make bread....."

And on it went. It was insanity. It may seem as though I am mocking, but I actually did sit in on conversations with women like this....and I admired them...and worse, I envied them.

Here is the truth. I am a sinner. A flawed individual. I am loud, I talk too much. I tend to focus on myself too much. I am disorganized in my thoughts and many times in my actions. I get nervous very easily. I am argumentative. I swear like a sailor. I have never met a carb I didn't like...nor, for that matter a sweet. I am a procrastinator and I am not always very good at self motivation.

Now don't get me wrong...I have a lot of very good things about me too...but, above is me, laid out and truthful....you could probably find more, if you asked my family. But in the end we are all, every last one of us like this. Flawed, imperfect creatures.

Use to be I tried from the get go to fix all of those problems right here...right now. Be good, be perfect! It wasn't until I truly understood St. Paul that I truly understood sin. He bemoaned his desire to be rid of sin, to try to be perfect for God. God basically said, "That's nice son, that you want to do this, be all perfect and such...but, ah...no. Keep your sin for a while...it is what keeps you humble."

What? God wants us to sin? Get out? No, of course God does not want us to sin. He never desires for us to sin. But God also has a timeline...it is his timeline and not our timeline. We are like impatient 4 year olds wanting to go to the park, we want what we want and we want it now. On the other hand God, has goals in mind. We find that as we grow older, we grow closer to him, and those sins seem to fall away in their own time. We are being perfected in Christ. It is not a past tense sort of thing. It is a past/present/future sort of thing. I have been perfected in Christ. I am being perfected in Christ. I will be perfected in Christ.

So I wear my sin like an ugly dress. I hate it, I know what it is, and I wish it gone. I attempt to quell it and restrain it and to become more diligent day by day. But you know what? It is no longer something I use as a measuring stick with others, I need not strip my life down to a monastic existence to become more holy. God works with what he has.

He works with me...flawed as I am.

Integrity

We are all presented with choices in life. Sometimes those choices are easy; rice or mashed potatoes? Watch the game or the movie? Go out to eat of just grab the left overs?
But sometimes we are presented with complex issues that there are clear right and wrong answers to, and the right answer is the one that is difficult. The one that can cost us a friend, cost us a relationship, can cost us a job....those are the tough choices....but, while difficult, in the end they also allow us to sleep at night. Sure, we can talk our way out of the right thing to do, reasoning that we don't want to hurt the other person, cost our families money, or other thoughts, but in the end, if there is something we know we should do, and we don't do it, it weighs heavy on our very souls.
As we grow up we find ourselves in these predicaments that test us, the easy ones, but at the time they seem to encompass our entire worlds. "Do you know what happened to my vase? It is broken." In this moments as a child we are tested with questions like these, sure the easy path says, deny knowledge, pass the buck, turn the blind eye. And even if we, ourselves are not the guilty ones, being put on the defensive, having to decide, at a moment's notice what answer we are going to give is a choice that marks either a path that will lure us as we grow with its ease to deny guilt or knowledge or will mark us with an ability to accept life's happenings and their consequences.
I find that the child who can say, "Yes, I do know what happened." tends to be the child who faces little difficulty in making friends in life, who tends to have a self assurance about himself that understands that life is messy, and we all make mistakes....and accepts those flaws in others.
On the other hand, the child who tends to deny any knowledge tends to doubt themselves and their belief that others have faith that they can truly succeed. It is that lack of faith in themselves and in those around them that, in the end, causes them to lack the confidence to make the truthful statement, to choose integrity.

We are not able to instill in a child faith in himself, it is a great inner gift that he gives himself. But when it is given, when a child gives themselves permission to have faults, flaws and to actually believe that they can learn from them, it is then that the moral compass with the bearing of integrity takes the correct bearing, steering them on a course into maturity and adulthood.