This is not a book report concerning a novel by my favorite author, Charles Dickens. My hearty apologies to any disappointed readers.
"The hardest expectations to live up to are our own." My friend said that this morning, and it's resonated with me all day.
I expect that I can live on 3 hours of sleep at night.
I expect dirt never to appear on the floor or walls.
I expect dishes never to be dirty.
I expect that I will accomplish three times what I'm capable of doing.
I expect the bathroom never to be icky.
I expect to account for every single, little penny we spend, even if it's gum at the vending machine.
I expect to get the kids out the door for school with nothing but smiles and happy songs--and not forgetting one single thing.
I expect dinner to appear magically on the table.
STOP! This sounds like an alternate universe made of plastic. It looks pretty, but there's no life.
Keeping up some expectations keeps our home and life in reasonable order. I guess I'm needing to be realistic in the expectations I set on myself and my family.
Let life happen. Clean up the messes. Prepare reasonably for the future. Enjoy the present.