Expectations

When I was in grad school, one of the courses I took required journal-writing. Forced journal-writing, about things we would then discuss with our classmates. I looked forward to writing in my journal because while I've always loved the idea of journal-writing, I never could seem to make myself actually do it. This will make me become a journaler, I thought. Wrong. Forcing the idea was problem #1, having to share it with the class was problem #2. I think the professor agreed, because halfway through the semester, she abandoned the journal-writing requirement.

But one of the things I remember writing about was my reluctance to have children. I was turning 30 that semester, and 30 was the magic age at which Bobby and I had said we'd begin trying to start a family. (Age 30 came and went, by the way, and we didn't truly start trying for another two years.) I distinctly remember writing about one specific hindrance: "There's no guarantee how they'll turn out," I wrote about my hypothetical children. "As a parent, you can do all the 'right' things and still have your child be nothing like what you expect."

So yeah, I guess I had some expectations.

The funny thing is, once Maggie was born, a lot of those expectations disappeared. It suddenly became less important to have her "turn out" the way I wanted; instead I focused on learning who she was, what made her happy, and then encouraging those things. It's taken a lot of letting go - something I'm not very good at - but I think I'm doing an OK job. One of the biggest compliments I've received was by a grad school classmate whom I ran into last week at Target. We'd reconnected through facebook last year, but I hadn't actually seen her in a long time. "Your Maggie cracks me up," Abbie told me. "I have got to meet her some day." Yeah, a lot of my facebook updates are about her, I admitted, a little embarrassed. But she's so much fun, I quickly added, that it's hard not to share. "And you," Abbie continued, "you seem to do a great job of just letting her be herself."

I try. It's not easy on days when being herself involves sassing back at everything I say or arguing over everything I ask her to do. It's not easy when she wants to grow her hair out but then complains when it gets tangled and my combing it hurts. (Or when she balks at my suggestion that we just fortheloveofgod get. it. cut.) Or when she refuses to wear a hairbow or selects an outfit that doesn't match or picks a glittery Target Christmas dress over my Strasburg choice. (And omgosh did that Target dress leave puddles of glitter everywhere she went.) But as I see her confidence grow and her self-awareness emerge, it gets easier.

My expectations now center around behavior, chores, respect ... day-to-day things. I don't think as much about the long-term things I hope for or expect. I hope that by focusing on the little things, the big ones will fall into place. And that we don't slowly drive each other insane along the way.

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It's Madhouse Wednesday over at Kate's blog ... Come play along! This week's topic is "expectations."