Great Expectations

I’ve had so much on my mind in regards to SPD & parenting.  I’ll share them with you over a handful of blog posts but beware,  some of my thoughts conflict with others.  So I’ll just put it out there:

The thoughts I write here are my own thoughts for TODAY.
WARNING: They may change tomorrow.

You may disagree with me or have knowledge that I don’t have. If so, please feel free to offer it up. Or,  just wait,  read on and watch as I turn the corner.  Now on to my blog post…

Before I had kids:

I had fewer “cracks” in my face (that’s what Logan used to call them).
I had more money.
I was only responsible for myself.
And I was the perfect parent.

MY kids would never run through the house.
MY kids would never be seen in public with soiled clothes on.
MY kids would use quiet voices (I did marry a Canadian, after all. Aren’t they just some of the nicest people you’ve ever met? And let’s face it, they are quieter than most Americans).

Then I had kids:

I cloth diapered them (for the most part).
I made their baby food from scratch.
I took them to baby music class.

I was going to volunteer in my son’s classroom.
I was going to take him to library story hour.
He would continue with toddler music.

As I’ve walked the path of parenthood, I’ve realized that my expectations have had to change. It sounds pretty obvious, but no one really tells you *that* when you hold your precious newborn in your arms for the first time.

(Unless, of course, you listen to the nurse who says, “man, you have a feisty one here.”)  eh-hem, eh-hem.

Life with our son looks different than the way I envisioned it.

My kids are loud. They laugh loudly, they cry loudly, they fight loudly.  Soil & water are like magnets to my children. Their clothes are almost always soiled by mid-day, but I find solace in knowing they were clean when they put them on.  Oh, & my kids? They totally run through the house.

Volunteering in Logan’s classroom was not successful, library story hour is not the best place for a high-energy & boisterous young boy, and the walls of the music class were lined with drums, an impulsive kid’s nightmare (or candy store, and his mom’s nightmare).

Life with our son looks different than the way I envisioned it.

But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Instead, I can volunteer at his school behind the scenes, I can pick up a bag of books at the library on my own (now, at age 5, Logan is starting to find success in the library, with clear expectations to use quiet voices & feet) and Logan fulfilled his own musical needs by “playing” the pots & pans, my kitchen table and the stainless steel refrigerator. (Believe me, this was not *allowed,* but he was a quick little guy.)

Through trial and error, we’ve learned to manage his environment, giving him opportunities to be successful. And, when we think he is ready, we raise the bar to see if he can meet the next expectation. Sometimes he can, sometimes he can’t. At that point we reassess. (Or throw our hands up in the air and say, “I guess we won’t be trying THAT again for some time).

Life with our son looks different than the way I envisioned it. But it certainly is interesting. We try to take the good with the bad, pray for patience and go with the flow.

Most importantly though, he is mine. My beautiful, passionate, spirited, boy. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.