Managing expectations

Two days ago, I stepped out my front door and, for the first time in three months, breathed warm air into my lungs. February has handed me a pleasant surprise: mild temperatures. Three people so far today have pointed out that it's not going to last very long, but I prefer to take it for what it is, a welcome respite from the misery, difficulty, and pain of a brutal Chicago winter.

This record-breaking warming spell also offers a lesson in managing expectations. For months I have been dreading February. It was awful our first two years here. Why would this particularly wicked and snowy winter be any different?

Good thing I'm not a meteorologist.

I'm discovering that life is all about managing expectations. I went into parenting without a clue, and come to think of it, I still don't seem to have one. The kid who spent all of last year wailing, howling and caterwauling, has become a dream: responsible, mature, helpful, and calm. But like the seasons, past performance is no guarantee of future behaviors. I just hold my breath and wait. My son, on the other hand, was once the sweetest, easiest child on the planet. Since he hit those pre-teen years, he's been a mystery: loving, thoughtful, and caring one moment, grumpy, moody, irrational the next.

He sounds just like me.

The baby is the greatest enigma of them all, but you don't have to take my word for it. Last week, we consulted a professional. "Tell me about your child." She began. What could we say? She's willful, defiant, stubborn, and happy. Yes, very happy, smiling all the time. "You don't usually get those traits together." The professional mused.

We, personally, wouldn't have sought professional help to address our child's behavioral quirks. After all, all three of our children fit that description. But the day care urged us to talk to someone, anyone, please. Apparently, our little angel is a bit more than they can handle. The professional recommended behavioral modification. Her suggestion was to pick out two of the most egregious behaviors to focus on, come up with a really special reward for changing those behaviors, and move on to the next behaviors from there.

That sounded reasonable to us. We decided on our two behaviors, and from there decided on a reward, in consultation with our toddler. "I want to bake cookies!" She proclaimed. And we knew that nothing would make her happier, except maybe eating them. I pulled out a Chanukah Baking Kit that we didn't get around to in December. My little chef mixed the ingredients, rolled out the dough, used the cookie cutters to make the shapes, made the icing, frosted the cookies, painted them, and dug right in.

It was hard to imagine this kid any happier than her normal state of being, but there she was, grinning from ear-to-ear, giddy with glee.

















So far so good on the behavioral modification front!

How about behavioral modification for moms?

For years, I've felt like I'm expecting too much from my kids. Every day they come home to a laundry list of responsibilities. They have to practice piano, do homework, put away their toys, take a bath. Some days they have dance classes to boot. And there I am, hovering like a helicopter mom. Have you finished your math? Is your spelling packet done? Piano! Don't forget piano! I'd tune me out, too.

Yet, somehow, my son always seems to rise to the occasion. A few weeks ago he had his first science fair.

His project was "Static Electricity". It wasn't a big surprise to us when his teacher called reminding us of a deadline just days away. Hey, kid, have you started on your project? I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. After minutes of hemming and hawing and intense discomfort on his part, I realized, my son didn't have a clue. I called his partner's parents. They got the same response from their son. My husband emailed the teacher and got the complete low down on the project. Arrangements were made, and the children put together a last minute project.

It wasn't too bad, for a last minute-first try, but my son was quite disappointed with his third place ribbon. Especially since every child received a ribbon, and third was "the worst". He grumbled a bit, but was determined to do better the next year. I couldn't have been prouder. That night, in fact, he was already toying with a project idea for next year.

I'm just happy he has high expectation for himself. He should, he's got the whole world ahead of him, with nothing to stop him but himself. I just hope that if I tell him that often enough, he'll believe me.

Optimism comes hard these days. My husband watches the law blogs like a hawk, watching to see which firms have folded, which have laid off lawyers, and which have rescinded offers for the next year. It's a precarious moment for us all. I listen to the news daily, waiting to hear a good report. I'm not holding my breath. Today, for the first time, we began to consider plan B, just in case. In the meantime, we listen, wait, and pray hard.

Life turns on a dime. A brutal winter mellows into a beautiful spring, a buoyant job market sinks. Hopes and expectations for a bright future ebb and flow with the changing economic tides. Thankfully, we have each other.

We grasped that truth rather poignantly last weekend, when we paid a long overdue visit to my husband's cousins. His cousin is married to a sweet, soft spoken guy, and they have four adorable boys. We expected to walk into a house of chaos and noise. What else would four boys do, but run around, screaming, creating havoc, and making noise? We were pleasantly surprised to find a calm, quiet home filled with sweet, handsome young boys. They are such a blessing to their mother who has suffered with chronic back pain since her oldest was born. She has endured several surgeries already, and is preparing for another soon.

















It's been rough on all of them, but you can see so much love in their family. As tough as things may get, they truly have each other for comfort and support.

I don't know what the future holds for us, either. I do know that spring will come, eventually. I know that my daughter will one day channel her stubborn, independent streak in creative, wonderful ways. I know that my son will continue to make things harder for himself, and maybe he'll be better off for it in the long run.

Best of all, I know that no matter what happens, we have each other.