For the past week since I’ve had my blog up, I’ve been reflecting on what I should write about next. A lot of topics come up, but I continue to look for the “perfect” one (written “perfectly” of course). Which is completely in line with my ever-high expectations of myself.
Sigh. Expectations.
Part of the way the minds of us humans work. And a helpful way those minds work. It wouldn’t be very efficient if we went into every situation with no knowledge about it – we’d have to relearn every time and it would be exceedingly dangerous. If you subscribe to the survival-of-the-fittest theory, then humans who didn’t have expectations, drawn from their schemata, probably died off pretty quickly. So the rest of us who lived on are left with mental frameworks, preconceived ideas and expectations.
The unhelpful part (for me at least)? When reality fails to meet my expectations (not really the problem) and I have negative reactions – mental and emotional – to those schisms (this is the part that can get me). Or (even worse) when expectations of what should happen and expectations of what I actually believe will happen are at odds and create a defeatist mentality so that I give up before I have even begun. Or (equally bad) I fail to learn from an expectations/reality disagreement.
I could go into a whole analysis (drawn from years of introspection) of why my expectations of myself often tend to be so high and why a failure to meet said expectations (or rather fear of failure) is such a big deal to me, but regardless of the long and intricate history, this way of being doesn’t serve me.
I’ll happily share with you that I haven’t placed these high expectations on my son. I’m happy he’s so curious and quick to learn new skills, it’s exciting to see how fast he’s begun moving around, how strong he is…
So wait… I take that back. Given my observations of my baby over the past eight months, I do have expectations of him. Such as, that he will walk early (it’s looking pretty soon) and that he will be a strong and physically capable boy. Given his parents’ intelligence and his behaviour, I also expect him to be of above average intelligence. So as I wrote about earlier in my post (that was written oh-so-many hours ago, before food play and potties and water spilling and 80s babies dance classes…), it is the nature of our minds to have expectations. The difference I want to point out is the lack of attachment to my expectations for my son (if he doesn’t walk soon, I may be surprised but I will in no way be disappointed). Or extrapolations of those expectations (although he very well may be intelligent, it is not important to me how well he does in school, if he attends post-secondary education or what career path he chooses).
This is very core in my own philosophy on parenting: I trust there is a reason for my son to have the life he has and that it will be as it needs to be. I am with him on his journey to provide safety and love and guidance but never to force things on him.
Do you see where there is still an issue though? It’s the whole monkey-see-monkey-do truism (a saying I really don’t like that much but “monkey” does happen to be my son’s current pet name, because a busy little monkey is what he often is!). Even if I don’t get disappointed or have fears around any discrepancies between expectations and reality for my son, he will undoubtedly observe that I still have them for myself. Even if he doesn’t copy my model, it could still engender guilt or confusion in him, things I never want to be a source of for my son.
We are always learning…
Hmmm.. maybe that last sentence is a good example to work from to see where I can ameliorate things. I clearly don’t want to cause my son to experience guilt or confusion, among many other negative feelings, but the reality is that I, fallible human that I am, probably will someday, at least unintentionally. My tendency if said example were to transpire? To berate myself for being such an awful mother, to worry about my son’s scarring for life, to feel guilt and probably very little compassion or patience with myself. So add insult to injury, he’d have not only his guilt but mine to deal with as well!
Oh what little gifts our children are to help us work through our own shit! The answer that seems clear as day to me here is to offer myself the same compassion, forgiveness and understanding that I offer my son. I will not always meet my expectations of myself. It is still helpful to have goals and expectations, just to hold them more lightly. Disparities between expectations and reality are only yet another source of rich learning for me. If I did cause my son guilt or confusion, it would be an opportunity for me to look at where I could grow and ask if I need to change anything in our communication. Used in this way, expectations can be helpful not only in ensuring we meet our basic needs (such as safety) but our higher needs as well (of growth, mastery and self-actualisation).
So the reminder for myself? I’m imperfect. I have great goals and expectations of myself, including how I mother. Keeping them in mind helps me to be the best mother I can be and offers a good foundation for learning and growing. And one of the things I continue to learn is how to be compassionate, kind and loving to myself.
Even mothers need to be mothered: me, circa the late 70’s
a mother's manifesto 