Adjusting Expectations

Adjusting Expectations
How often do we hold an image in our minds of a moment to come? We anticipate a social event—an outing, a meeting of friends or family, a concert—and before it has even started, we have an idea of how it is going to happen and what it will make us feel—the smells and sights that will make it indelible in our hearts and minds.

Perhaps, though, the bigger question might actually be: how often do our expectations differ from those we are about to share that moment with? Scientists and philosophers would agree: pretty much all the time. Take for instance date night. My idea of a perfect date night with my husband is almost always entirely different than his. He wants classical guitar and a beer at the bar. I want modern dance and champagne on the rooftop.

As we grow in relationships, and in parenting, we (hopefully) learn a thing or two about adjusting our expectations, as many moments are in fact compromises between two, if not more, persons’ desires. A perfect example of this is the family vacation. I have a very clear idea in my mind of what is a 10/10 holiday. My husband’s generally aligns with mine. Our son, not so much. Whereas in the early years, I might have been quite bothered by this mis-alignment, this last vacation taught me a lot about adjusting my own expectations so I could see what really matters when we take time out with our son.

Uh oh: Florida here we come
After a last minute cancelled trip post-Christmas to Canada due to Omicron travel restrictions, I was pretty much a depressed paperweight in the house. I was in so much pain thinking of my parents and how much I missed them, and how much I wanted to be with them. I was also physically craving being back in my beautiful homeland. I’d built an elaborate set of expectations in my mind of going to Vancouver and being able to share my fondest places and sights with my two Clydes. I was heartbroken when it all got cancelled.

On December 26th my husband sensed all this, pulled out the computer and put in the search bar “Florida beach vacation.” After the realization that we were not the only people having the same epiphany, we settled on one of the few hotel rooms we could find anywhere along the Gulf Coast.

Arriving at our hotel, my husband and I both felt out of our element. We’d always steered clear of hotels geared towards families and here we were in what we referred to as the “Under 7” equivalent of spring break. So much noise! So many kids! So much everything. Taking a step outside onto the beach, we were even more shocked. It seemed like the entire population of the United States had descended on Clearwater Beach, FL. I felt myself suffocating under the sheer number of people swarming around us.

For the first day, my husband and I traded glances from under our beach cabana. We tried to walk along the boardwalk without rubbing shoulders with strangers. We were cranky when we couldn’t find a lounge chair by the pool.

But then something happened for us both. It was 2pm on Day 2. I looked up from reading my book to see little Clyde doing the biggest belly flop of his life into the pool. His face was radiant. His smile stretched further than I had ever since it before. He was belly flopping with three other little ones—“friends” he’d just made at the pool. He was in heaven. That day, and pretty much every day thereafter, our little Clyde belly flopped from mid-day to 6pm with only a few rests for foosball, grilled cheese, morning mini-golf and cornhole.

It was in that moment of Day 2 when I saw how happy my son was that I looked over at my husband and said, “Sometimes this is what it is all about, love.”

I suspect as older parents (like my hubbie and me) it is a bit harder to adjust expectations. We’ve pretty much lived our lives as we have wanted to for a long time. In fact, my life has been very full life up until now. I’ve travelled the world over, seen the most beautiful landscapes one could ever set eyes on, met and held onto so many cherished friends, and had jobs I have loved. In this sense, my “moments jar” is full and overflowing. The lesson that was reinforced in my mind in Florida was now is little Clyde’s time. Not always. But in moments like this, around the pool in Clearwater Beach, FL, this was his vacation. All we had to do was sit back and enjoy it ringside with a cool Corona in hand.

Allowing for the unexpected
I’ll end on this vignette, post Clearwater Beach vacation. Just the other day, little Clyde and I went for hot chocolate in town. We sat at the window. He chose a book to read. We drank our hot chocolates, shared a blueberry muffin and read The Snowy Day, by Ezra Jack Keats. It was a story about a big snowfall and the boy’s adventure in it —something that had literally happened to us that day.

As I pushed open the door of the cafe to go home, Clyde turned to me and said, “That was a great book we read!” Honestly at the time I didn’t think he was that into the book. But here is the one thing he remembered from the date. Not the hot chocolate. Not the muffin. The book. The one thing that was entirely unexpected because we didn’t even know they’d have children’s books at the cafe.

Whether it is a vacation or a hot chocolate date with your child, I’m learning to let go of what constitutes “perfect” to me. It is less about the sights, sounds and feelings that I will gather from a specific event. I learned at Clearwater Beach that for me it is about the interaction with my son in that moment and the feelings that will leave in my heart and mind.