Expecting, what a double edge crock of sword!  From the moment you find out you are adding a little bundle of awkward, that word is thrown in your face.  It has such promise, yet such potential for disaster.  One little word can make or break your day, your dreams, or your patience.  If you are a parent, say it with me “I will only expect the unexpected.”

Side note: to anyone who has ever asked “what” someone is expecting, it is a pterodactyl.  Go ahead and expect a ass-ish answer for that one.

Back to expectations, to little newborn Johnny who mindlessly semi-grabbed a golf club with your slobber covered pudgy paws.  Your parents now expect you to be a pro-golfer.  Prepare to disappoint them from this tiny moment on.  To the parents of a pro-golfer who actually made it, cheers to you!!  Brag on, you are one of a very small percentage of hopefuls who made it through to finals!

I come across things I do not expect on an hourly basis.  For instance, I did expect that I would get our guest bedroom sheets washed for my parents visit this weekend.  I did not expect to have to wash all of the bedding because someone had gotten in there with a bad case of mud butt.  Pillow case to duvet, all linens graced with unexpected filth.  (This is when a sterilizing washer is well worth your investment, FYI.)

I did once expect to walk into Abbey’s therapy office and have a normal session.  I did not expect her to happily walk up to the support pole, grab on with one little hand and hook the opposite leg around at the knee.  I certainly did not expect her to arch her limber little back, throw her head back and smile the biggest smile of the day.  I also did not expect that to be the one day that apparently all father’s brought their kids to therapy… If only my sweet hubby would have been there on that blessed day.  The pride would have gleamed a blazing red across his face.

I expect to be knocked out by the toxic fumes that come from George’s diaper every single morning.  Seriously, the kids colon is on an alarm.  I do not expect those moments with the Pamper’s simply aren’t enough to contain a massive amount of anal awesome, but it happens.  Sh!t happens.  Literally.

With all of the daily expectations, as well as unexpected events, there is one thing we don’t expect as parents.  We don’t expect to love our kids as much as we do.  We don’t expect to hurt with them, fear with them, and the mess we will learn to tolerate because of them.

Being a great mom isn’t about maintaining expectations of an immaculate house or impeccable style.  Being a great parent is about accepting the unexpected times in life, and only expecting that they will happen again.

Dear Abbey,

We have had a hard week.  It isn’t our first, and it won’t be our last.  I have lost my patience with you.  You have lost your patience with me, I get it.  However as this week comes to an end, I need you to know you are loved, even if I have not shown you enough.

Nothing can describe the love a Mommy has for her little girl, I hope you know this feeling someday.  You are my world, my peace, my soul sparkle outside of my body, and  sometimes my biggest challenge.   Your quiet, independent disposition has the ability to capture a room as we all wait to see what you may do.  I hope you never lose that ability.

Your small hands bring me peace when they gracefully rub your beloved blanket.  They look like mine but with so much left to learn.  You have a sparkle of adventure in your eyes from the moment you wake until you finally give in to your overwhelming exhaustion at night.

But here is the thing, Mommy gets tired just like you.  I also get frustrated, extremely frustrated, and I cannot imagine processing these feelings without just being able to vent them out.  You have that challenge.  I struggle with you daily, as we work through your feelings together.  I know you have a lot on your small plate, but here are a few things I selfishly ask of you:

Be patient with me.  With the introduction of one single word into our lives, I lost a little of my own sparkle.  Autism.  Be patient with me as I try to get it back.  I love you for who YOU are, not who you are compared to someone else.  You have no label in my heart other than, “mine.”

Be patient with me when I am asking you repeatedly to get your shoes.  As my voice gets louder, my love does not lessen.  I sometimes forget that your mind is a world with hundreds of TVs blasting different stations and full volume, and you are trying to decipher my request through the chaos.

Be patient with me when your little brother is demanding all of my attention and you simply are thirsty.  You and I are still learning to communicate, and I may not understand why you are upset.  I do not love him more.  Please understand that sometimes I need to soothe him first so that I can devote more of my attention to you.

Be patient with me in the store when some unknown person or even has set you off.  No one wants to bring you calm and peace as much as I do, but sometimes I am at a loss for what to do. In these moments, I wish my love was enough to solve the world.

Be patient with me when I zone out because something has thrown me off, you aren’t the only one.  Sometimes Mommy gets sad and frustrated, too.  Sometimes Mommy cries.  Sometimes I hear a little girl your age sharing her pedicure color, lunch choice, or new story with her Mommy in Target and it feels like I got punched.  I feel it should be that easy between us, but it isn’t.  You and I have to work for small moments of clarity, and it makes them so much sweeter.  Eye contact with you can still give me butterflies, and I feel better.    Please remember feelings are ok, good or bad, because they are yours.  Your feeling should be respected, and you will learn to respect others’.

We will got through this again because we are strong and we have learned so much about each other.  You be patient with me, and I will be patient with you, and together we can get through anything.

Whatever you do, wherever you are, and however you feel, you are loved more than all of the stars in the sky.  If you ever doubt that, for even a second, then I am failing at more than keeping a clean house.

PS:  If you could get a head start by simply discontinuing the fecal finger paint masterpieces on the walls and smeared into the carpet of your bedroom, that would be great.  It would also save some whiskey on weeknights…LOVE YOU!