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.