I seriously didn’t even pay attention to my own expectations until Life with Littles. Of course I had expectations, but for me they were simply an ironclad guide for a smooth life, and not something I actively considered may differ from others’. Naive? Well, yeah. I grew up with a Don’t question the parent authority rule set which created a filter for my own mindset. Once I became an adult, I must know what’s best… after all, it is me and my life I’m thinking about. What’s the discussion? Then came the kids. After 9 months of pregnancy, turns out I was pretty much the same human without a crazy influx of wisdom. 

The one revolutionary change was that I was suddenly fueled by Love (with a capital L) for this tiny human. I saw that she was perfect exactly as God created her. I realized that Love would be my guide as I raised her, and each future sister, to be her best authentic self. But, back to humanity… 

Raising Littles is challenging. Every day is so crazy busy. Each moment requires full attention and awareness. How would I raise Littles in a loving, nurturing, safe, clean, organized (lose anybody?) environment? I like getting my way as much as the next guy. Turns out those clean and organized expectations needed to be malleable because loving, nurturing and safe were not, and days are only so long. Adding independent individuals, no matter how little, to your family requires a re-evaluation of priorities. I eventually learned to realize which of my expectations were truly important and which weren’t. Room didn’t get cleaned, hands weren’t really washed, toy bins are all mixed again, someone got angry and yelled… some negatives are just a part of growth, learning and several independent people trying to live together. 

One day when I was playing in the yard with 3 year old Middle, I brought out a bat and wanted to show her how to hold it, so I could toss a ball for her to hit. “No!” “Do it myself!” “Do it MYSELF!” “DO IT MYSELF!” Cue the thought bubble: Ugh. Parenting win. Can’t even play light-heartedly. She is so obstinate. If she would just stop and listen to me, this would be so fun. Grrrr. Fine. “Ok, Sweetie, I’m going to toss the ball and you hit it.” Wouldn’t you know it? She did. She didn’t want my help. I wanted her to want my help. Seems the “problem” was with my expectations… I wanted to teach my child, show her, demonstrate, talk about it. She just wanted to hit the ball. Unmet Expectations seem to be at the root of just about every problem.  Guess what. (I’ll wait.) This middle plays college ball.  

Once I realized that many of my Expectations aren’t gospel, life with a bunch of Littles improved.  These Littles are truly independent, and we really must not forget that. Ever. Same cookie cutter, so they look similar, but they each have their own flavor. What’s inside can be shrouded by the eyes that look like yours.  

Now, unmet expectations are one thing. Scaring the mommy is another altogether. Once they cross that line into freaking me out, the calm, adjust-my-expectations attitude is not even in the vicinity. I could be staring at my young children playing on the playset when suddenly someone is on the tippy top. Age had no effect on my sprinting ability. Can still outrun a racecar when necessary. I have been in my second floor room, only to see a pre-teen waving to me from the top of a tree. (Eyeroll now, but at the time I took the staircase in 3 steps to help her climb down safely. Only, by the time I ran downstairs, she was already jumping out. Safely-ish.) When your teens leave a school dance to go to a (stranger-to-you) boy’s house, and don’t tell you and miss curfew and the neighbor calls to say they went somewhere and no one answers their flip phone and you also have an extra teen for the week, the mommy breaks. All the safety issues are forefront in the parenting mind. So, when my 2 and the bonus arrived home, I literally had them line up in the hall to come in one at a time to get their talking to #yellingat. There have been many times when I’ve asked God to give me the words that would convince them of what they needed to know. This was one of those times. To be fair, even my freak was still fueled by Love and the desire to keep my kids alive and well. 

The gospel expectation of Respect with a capital R is the one expectation I don’t waiver on, whether it’s respect of self or others. As an important side note, I use the term Respect as a deep, authentic honoring of one’s core. I’ve heard wise people say that the term Reverence would be more accurate, since respect is often attributed to the deserving actions of another. So, really, I mean reverence in a human way, and I’m happy with the term Respect. Anyway, this seems to be a lifelong learning process that begins with an awareness.  If we parents consistently point out the times that a child IS being respectful, as well as when he is NOT, it will become a natural choosing… eventually. 

Love for my Littles opened a new awareness in my entire life. I can now see my expectations as useful or not, valuable or not, gospel or not, whether related to my children or not. Life with this fresh perspective alleviates much heartbreak.