Carol Brady didn't prepare me for this. (But my mother did.)

A few notes of explanation may be necessary here. The last post was about two years ago, right after our daughter was born. It was Jeff's good intention to blog regularly but like so many bloggers his life got in the way of his intention to blog about his life. I on the other hand, had no illusions about my free time and no intentions of blogging. However every now and then the English teacher buried deep deep down underneath the mommy, the maid, the therapist, the preschool teacher and the kleenex, rears her ugly head and demands that I record some bit of witty wisdom I have acquired or some hilarious anecdote that needs to be preserved for blackmailing purposes. So today after shoving my inner English teacher down for last five years or so I decided to make an attempt.
I've been recently inspired by two of my high school friends, whose blogs are amazing. The first is entitled "Jane Austen Didn't Prepare Me for This" Her insights on life are so funny, and as I was thinking about my own, I thought about all of the expectations about our future selves that we have while we are growing up. We (by "we" I mean my fellow romantics and lovers of Jane) envision ourselves as confident and poised young women exchanging witty banter with eligible gentlemen until we are swept off our feet by our own personal Mr. Darcys. As much as I love Jane, she didn't prepare me for Ho Ho slinging winners of belching contests. But I was blessed to be given a persistent belching Ho Ho slinger, who showed me that what we expect is not always what we actually want and need.
At this point in my life I'm breaking through other expectations of perfection that relate more to myself than those around me. Now, after living with myself for 30 years, I have gotten to know myself a little better. So my expectations were not of Martha Stewart proportions. I knew I would not be feeding my family entirely from my very own organic garden, nor would I be making their clothing, or putting my home in a interior design magazine. I knew a little better than that. But I didn't see myself crying under a mountain of laundry either. I never anticipated my 3 year old would yell "boobies!" in the church foyer nor did I ever think there might be a day when I fed my children PB&J for lunch AND supper.
There are a lot of unexpected joys and troubles of motherhood but as I experience the ups and downs I remember my own growing up and the ups and downs that went with it. And I am a million times blessed to have a mother who tells me, "You'll always have the house, but the kids are only kids once!"
So I'd like to add my voice to the blogosphere as often as I can, partly to preserve the memories and partly to encourage or entertain anyone who is there or who has been.