conditioning

On Thursday Abe and I went a little crazy at Buy Buy Baby–the store really lives up to its name! We went in expecting to purchase a total of three items and walked out with the following:

• a jogging stroller
• a car seat
• a bassinet
• a baby monitor
• a baby bathtub
• a nursing pillow
• bottles
• pacifiers
• a baby sling
• a diaper changing pad
• a diaper changing pad cover
• onesies
• a diaper genie
• other stuff that I am too lazy to catalog (it’s all in bags right now)

Needless to say, it was interesting trying to fit all of the stuff into Abe’s car, but we he managed to do it.

Obviously, that means our hallway is full of boxes and bags, and ever since Thursday I have been saying I will take care of unpacking and assembling these new items. I figure it’s only fair since Abe unpacked and assembled the entire nursery back in Hyde Park. But, as usual,distractions abound. Thus far, I have managed to assemble the bassinet you see displayed on the right.

I am quite proud that I assembled this piece of furniture. It wasn’t hard, but you have to understand, I am easily daunted. At one point today, Abe, who had to work, called home to see how I was doing.

“I’m doing great!” I responded cheerfully. “I just finished assembling the bassinet all the way up until the steps that require a screwdriver. I have no idea where the screwdrivers are, so oh well.”

“They’re above the laundry machine on the second shelf,” said Abe helpfully.

Ominous silence on my end of the phone.

“Um, I mean,” said Abe, back peddling furiously, “I have no idea where they are. I’ll find them as soon as I come home and take care of the rest.”

“You are so wonderful!” I gushed. “Thank you for being so incredibly helpful!”

Last year I learned a technique called Boys Town, wherein positive praise is used as a way to condition students to comply with school rules. Occasionally–okay, more than occasionally–I use this technique in my marriage. Whenever Abe does something really great, I lavish on both specific and general praise and hope for opportunities to repeat the process in the future.

This time, however, I did some reflecting after I hung up the phone. I thought about my mom, who single-handedly hauled one ton (no exaggeration) of slate to redo the walkway of our house. The image of her hauling stone to and from the station wagon flashed in my head, and in the back of my mind I heard her saying “We can do tough things.”

I sighed. Certainly, getting a screwdriver and screwing in a couple nuts and bolts does not count as tough, so I really had no excuse not to complete the project I’d started. I flipped on Saint Saens’ “Carnival of the Animals” for Lydia to hear as I went to work finishing her bassinet, and when it was all done I stepped back to admire the finished project.

I eagerly anticipate the positive praise I will undoubtedly receive when my tired husband comes home and discovers he doesn’t have to finish my project.