Expectation Versus Reality

Let’s talk that good old chestnut, Expectation versus Reality.

We were going away for Christmas so I wanted to do a small (me, hubby, kids) family breakfast where we opened presents and spent a nice time together. Hmm nice, that’s got expectation written all over it, doesn’t it? I stayed up late doing All The Things (while my other half drifted off while putting our son to bed and didn’t resurface until I shook him awake at 9pm) so that when the small people woke at 5.30 am (if history is anything to go by) all we would need to do was make the coffee and stand back with a camera to witness unforgettable moments of family joy.

The day dawned early. Always that little bit earlier than one would hope. The boy child ravenously tore open someone else’s present before the jug had even boiled. Cue authoritative parental voice. Never a fan of that one, but especially pre 6am. My ‘vision’ was that we would pick up the pre-prepared fruit platter and coffee, dramatically whip open the curtains to reveal a Kmart Cubby House sitting pretty on our freshly mown lawn. The kids would skip hand in hand (ok going over the top but you get the idea) to the house and start merrily playing together.

I have to commend myself on perfect execution of phase one of the vision: With an elegant flourish, I open the (ugly) curtains & my adorable Santa hat-wearing son exclaimed with wide eyes “Oh Wow! Look at this house out here Mum!” They ambled out the doors and towards the cubby house as I got the camera out of the case to capture the moment.

Battery flat. Fffffff Fa La La La La La La La La.

Then fingers jammed in the cubby house door and tears by No. 2 seemed to bring on hysterical laughter from No. 1. Authoritative parental voice needed again. Great. As I scrambled to get the rest of the presents, coffee, phones (because of course the camera is now defunct) and food, husband is getting increasingly more irritated as he is getting eaten by mozzies. I finally get set up outside, kids eventually stop crying and then we realise we need to relocate back inside to escape blood-thirsty insects. Inside with the mess, ugly curtains, packed suitcases. Life admin. You know. AND, of course, far away from the cubby house that they miraculously now, actually, want to play in!

It’s all my fault of course. Creating an expectation invariably leads to reality seeming less satisfactory, less colourful. If I’d just lowered my expectations none of this would have been out of the ordinary.

My children, of course, aren’t aware of all this turmoil. There they are, finding joy in the wrapping paper. Little 2.0 is giggling over string wrapped round her chubby toes and 1.0 has his new wooden camera upside down but he’s happily clicking away at all of us.

Time and again my children remind me that I can’t engineer perfection, that sometimes perfectly normal is all we need. So here’s to being open to those moments, wherever and whenever they may find us.