Expectations

I’ve been a mother of five now for a little over four months. Wow! I would have hoped to have it all figured out by now, but nope! I think the only thing I have figured out is how very little I have figured out. I have, however, figured out some expectations:

WHAT NOT TO EXPECT . . .

That I will ever be showered and dressed at a reasonable time of the day.

That anyone will ever show up at my door when my house is presentable, and I’m NOT wearing pajamas.

A spotless house.

A clean house.

One clean room.

That I will ever find the bottom of the laundry pile.

That I will get 8 consecutive hours of sleep any time in the next several years.

Perfect children.

That I will ever have a phone conversation without someone fighting or yelling, or someone pulling on my shirt wanting something.

To have something to eat without someone sitting on my lap, asking me to do something for them, or little fingers picking at my food.

Church to be easy for at least the next four years.

To ever go somewhere without being in a hurry because we’re late, or almost late.

My mothering skills to be at their peak when I am working on 2 hours of sleep.

People to ever stop saying to me “Wow! You’ve got your hands full!” everywhere I go.

To ever feel like I have things “under control.”

Clear thinking, and remembering everything that needs to be done without writing it down and referring to it often.

Dinner to make itself.

WHAT TO EXPECT . . .

That whatever I don’t get done today, will still be there waiting for me tomorrow.

That I will never suffer from boredom--I don’t have to look far to find 100+ things to do.

That the “tornado” knows exactly where we live, and “hits” our house on a regular basis.

That the floor I just mopped with be sticky again by the end of the day.

That my foot (or even worse, my husband’s foot) will find the one Lego that was left on the floor.

That I just might feel like a broken-record for the rest of my life.

That I will never get everything done that I think I can accomplish in a day.

That my children will always be hungry, even if they just ate a million pancakes five minutes ago.

That I will always have a pile of unfinished projects.

That my children will love me despite my weaknesses, but that they will unintentionally exploit my weaknesses (or their father’s) to others.

That my children will grow up way too fast.

That my children will eventually get too big for me to pick up.

That my children will always be my best form of entertainment.

That MY attitude has more to do with what happens in my home than I will ever know.

That my influence as a mother has a profound impact on what my children will become.

That no matter how prepared I think I am, I will never be prepared for the 1, 2, or 3 blowouts the baby will have while I am out shopping.

To always be needed, even if it means that two children are fighting to sit on my lap at the same time.

That the words “spare” and “time” may not exist in my vocabulary together for a very long time.