A very wise friend once told me the secret to her level of calm. This friend (who happens to be the mother of four, three of whom are triplets) says
high expectations = low serenity; low expectations = high serenity.
I loved this and started applying it to my life. Immediately.
Now, is it a bad thing to say I have low expectations? Fifteen years ago I would have been appalled at the very idea! As a student (and eventually a teacher) I would say that high expectations are the key to getting people to do their best work! Why should anyone purposely have low expectations ?
Here's why. We've been on this merry-go-round before.
Elementary-aged kids have school projects out the wazoo. First-graders take a loooong time to read a book out loud (no matter how loudly the baby in your lap is screaming). Two year-olds are destructive and cooperate the least when you need it the most. Babies scream the loudest when you need for them to be the quietest.
If you expect these things to happen then you're not surprised or disappointed!
If, by some miracle, things go BETTER than you expected, well, then it's been a great day.
Yesterday afternoon was the perfect example. A neighbor (also the mother of a two year-old) called to invite Luke over to play for awhile. He smiled and was excited....until she came to the door to collect him. He refused to go with her, saying STAY AT LUKEY'S HOUSE. Of course Lukey's house currently had one child with a fever camped out on the couch, another child painting a homemade salt-dough map of Indiana in the next room while his brother waited patiently for me to find something for him to paint too; and a screaming baby in a sling around mom's neck. Never mind that the kitchen counter wasn't visible and everyone was starting to get hungry. I invited the neighbor and her daughter in to play for a few minutes, hoping that Luke would cooperate ...
You already know how this goes.
The two year-olds fought non-stop over the same toy. The sick kid kept coughing, reminding us all that we're exposing neighbors to germs. The brother that was waiting to paint was forgotten, baby continued to scream. The twist I wasn't expecting was for Luke to stick his finger up his nose and start a huge gusher of a nosebleed, causing him to need a complete change of clothes (not to mention a new load of laundry and a floor mopping for mom). Then the kid who was waiting to paint fell down the stairs.
Friends from church dropped by briefly to bring us homemade soup and a rose (on behalf of Leah's birth, a tradition in our congregation). Luke grabbed the rose and took off. Not thirty seconds later it looked like the photo at the top of this blog entry. I guess Leah should get used to her gifts being presented in pieces.
Our kind neighbors and friends didn't say a word about the chaos. I'm guessing they won't believe me the next time I insist that we're fine---because thanks to all of the prayers said on our behalf, we are.
Well, the prayers plus my seriously low expectations.
Special thanks to Maureen, the source of my mantra. :)
