Loving the Life Unexpected

“Well,” my husband said slowly. “I did think the house would be cleaner.”

He wasn’t criticizing, and I wasn’t offended.

It was his honest assessment — and as it happened, I agreed.

Three years earlier, when we’d decided I should quit my job to be a stay-at-home mom, a cleaner house was supposed to be one of the perks.

In the fantasy land we mistook for reality, I’d be home with our children, and in between playing with them, reading books, etc., I’d be throwing a load of laundry in, scrubbing down a bathroom, sweeping the floor … .

According to our theory, then, when my husband got home from work, most of the household stuff would be done and we’d have plenty of free time in the evenings and on weekends for family togetherness and fun.

Don’t laugh. (OK, you can laugh. We do.)

Now, I will say that a version of that actually does happen.

Most nights, I do have dinner made when my husband gets home from work. The laundry routinely gets washed and dried (even if the folding/putting away bit takes a few days). School lunches are packed. The lawn gets mowed.

In a way, we’re living the fantasy.

Except that …

In reality, it often takes longer at the grocery store than I anticipated, and the whole morning plan falls apart.

In reality, my youngest daughter begs for “one more book” … 20 times … on the day I’d otherwise planned to clean the floors.

In reality, my older children’s homework takes much more of my time than I ever, ever imagined.

There are a hundred exceptions to our fantasy-land projections.

And recently I realized that that gap, the one between expectations and reality, drives about 92 percent of my stress.

I expect my kids, for example, to come home from school ready for a fun afternoon together, and I’m frustrated when I’m met with anger or crankiness instead.

I expect my husband to step in the door and hop right into dad and household duties, and I’m annoyed when he plops down on the couch and fires up his computer.

And I expect myself to clean the house, prepare healthy meals, play with the kids, help them with their homework, work on my business, invest in my marriage and friendships, and complete about 150 other things, all with a heart brimming with gratitude for all the blessings I’ve been given — and then I’m anxiety-ridden when all those pieces don’t magically come together in a perfect little puzzle.

Expectation is a killer.

So I’ve decided I’m done with it.

What if, I’ve been asking myself, my only expectation is that some days will be great, others awful, most will be in between, and we’ll just roll with whatever happens?

What if I just let us … be?

Now, I don’t plan to completely giving up on expectations: I still think, for example, that my kids should be able to brush their teeth in the same bathroom without getting into a fight. It just hasn’t happened yet.

But over the past few days, I have been trying to just accept what is, instead of getting angry or annoyed that it’s not all going according to plan.

And you know what?

Our house is calmer.

When my daughter stomped into the house the other afternoon, I wasn’t thinking, “Man, why can’t ONE TIME she come home from school without complaining about something her brother’s done?”

I just took it in stride and listened to her. Then she had snack.

That was it.

When my husband opted to play on the computer instead of calculating our tax return, I didn’t fume around the kitchen.

I just accepted that, in that particular moment, he needed to unwind. I chose to trust that he’d get the taxes done on time. And he did.

I don’t want to idealize our new reality: Some days I still plead to God, the universe and anyone who will listen for just a smidgen of patience. Some days my kids and husband annoy me. Some days, I annoy them.

Bu I have noticed that as I’ve started to relinquish my expectations (and need for total control!) I’m starting to love my reality more.

I’m happier, more relaxed.

I dance. I joke. I laugh.

I actively, routinely, enjoy my family — and truthfully, I haven’t always been able to say that. 

As my youngest prepares to start kindergarten in the fall, my husband and I are evaluating our life, discussing where we want to be in another five years and deciding whether to change our current lifestyle.

That’s where “I did think the house would be cleaner” came in.

Setting aside all expectations, though, I just nodded.

We smiled, shrugged, and ate some ice cream.