Confession time. I expected too much. This is no news flash to my family and former coworkers. I am not a perfectionist having been raised in the Jim Grigsby Good Enough philosophy of life. I also over plan and pack too much into a day, week, month. Case in point, 11 course Italian Feast for my family one Easter. This I know is a huge flaw.
In relation to fostering, my character flaw has led to rough days and bad attitudes. I planned all these great Christmas things to do; the Polar Express drive in, doing acts of kindness, visiting elderly neighbors, fire departments and police precincts with homemade goodies, drive around town looking at Christmas lights while sipping my annual batch of Wassail, watch the old classics like It’s a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street together. Norman Rockwell would have loved to come peep in the Senters’ windows and capture our lovely little family Christmas in the making. Can’t you just picture it, beautiful kids dressed in new Christmas pajama’s cuddled together with FM and FD watching great old movies, munching on Christmas only goodies they helped make during the day, anticipating the celebration of the birth of the Christ? Tim told me to lower my expectations.
Most of my well made plans are going in the trash. If I can make it to Christmas day without a major meltdown and get the kids to their family for a day with them, it will have to be enough.
When we tried to have a family moving night to watch Frosty the Snowman, M decided that picking his sister up over his head and spinning her around in circles was a good idea. He’s one of those kids who electronic media hypes up so we have to turn off all media and play quietly until bath and bed time unless we want screaming kids, broken ornaments and raised voices.
Lowered expectations is the new normal. I will screw this up over and over again, it’s in my DNA to push for more but maybe the new more is a calm dinner, a quiet evening with kids in bed and a glass of wine with Tim. That sounds really nice right now…