Great Expectations

in Giggles on July 25, 2022

As most of you know, I’ve been unpacking.

And unpacking.

And, yes, I’m still unpacking.

I am pleased with the progress I have made thus far in the move to our forever home. However, even saying that, I still have a ways to go.

I have relegated the remaining boxes to ONE room upstairs; a room that Jeff and I affectionately refer to as The Nursery.

No…do not skip ahead. There are no little Louis babies on the way…or even (officially) planned for that matter. But…within the next few years, there will be. My oldest kiddo is getting married next summer. Wow. Seeing that typed out, hits a bit differently than just saying it.

With the joining of two people, babies usually follow.

Now, as full-fledged Empty Nesters, Jeff and I should have downsized when we decided to move from the home we raised our own babies in; however, we did not opt for that route. We built a slightly larger home, albeit with fewer bedrooms, more space, and a LOT more land! In other words, we built this house for our future grandbabies.

Some of the boxes that have been pushed into the nursery for storage, contain books from when our children were growing up. As a writer, I am a huge fan of reading, a gift, that I insisted upon passing down to my kids. As a pack rat, I kept all of their books…ALL…OF…THEM. I happened across a box last week that housed some of our Amelia Bedelia books by the late, Peggy Parish.

For anyone who may be unfamiliar with the Amelia Bedelia series, I cannot urge you strongly enough to get your hands on one, and simply enjoy it.

Amelia Bedelia is a housekeeper who has a propensity for misunderstanding common and every day words. For example, when her daily To-Do List read, “Dust the furniture” she understood it to mean ADD dust to the furniture by way of powder. Her employer was dumbfounded and completely shocked by Amelia Bedelia’s seemingly unprecedented lack of interpretation of her expectations.

Now, I told you ALLLL of that, to ask you this: What are some of your own expectations?

We all have them.

If you really get down to brass tacks, how well are your expectations of others communicated?

Are you crystal clear in your transmission of these expectations? Or, are you perhaps, a bit lacking in the delivery department?

I ask these questions with a personal revelation in the foremost part of my brain. I am well-past the parenting of babies and young children stage. I am no longer usually woken up at various intervals of the night by one (or more) kiddos needing my assistance with bottles, pacifiers, diapers, unimaginable thirst, or my personal favorite, fighting monsters under the bed and in the closet.

I have moved on to the phase of parenting (or trying to parent) baby adults.

Baby Adults.

My children are almost nineteen, twenty, and twenty-one. Each one of them qualifies as a legal adult. They can vote. They can buy lottery tickets and cigarettes (they do not, but they could), in a mere seven days, my oldest can drink, gamble and buy firearms. All of these can-do items, almost make me want to go back to the bottles and diapers phase…almost.

The Letter of the Law says explicitly that my children are adults; however, many (MANY) of their actions scream otherwise.

All three of my children are attending school in a city different than where their father and myself live. They are all in that same city, in fact, they are all in the same house.

They are learning life skills of how to deal with roommates, make their own doctor appointments, open bank accounts, acquire credit cards, get and KEEP a job, buy groceries, COOK those groceries, take the trash out to the curb, just take out the trash IN GENERAL and clean the house.

Oh my stars…CLEAN THE HOUSE.

It appears that my expectations of their obtainment of household skills was not clearly communicated during the eighteen or so years that they each LIVED WITH ME. They grew up in a clean and mostly neat and orderly home. I expected them to transfer that experience to their own home.

All of this brings me back to Amelia Bedelia.

Each person speaks a language unique and special to their own personality; yet, somehow manages to (most of the time) effectively communicate with others around them. We often forget that some things that appear clearer than glass in our own minds, might look exceptionally foggy to someone else.

My issue, much like Amelia Bedelia’s employer, is finding the right way to express my expectations. Parenting baby adults, in my opinion, is more challenging than parenting the littles. The littles take what you say at face value, with very limited fanfare. They, themselves are unsure of their own decision-making abilities; therefore rely on you to enlighten them. Baby adults, on the other hand, have the fortitude of making their own decisions—good or bad—with an extraordinary amount of confidence in those decisions, but doing so tucked safely and luxuriously within the confines of their parents’ safety nets. While they know that they technically are still accountable to their parents, the pull and temptation from the world around them to chase after, reach for, and play with the newest shiny thing is often times overwhelming.

They must learn, in their own time and at their own speed, life lessons. Some of those lessons are easily remedied. After generously sprinkling a living room full of furniture with DUSTING powder, they can be shown their mistake and from thence forth be told to “UNdust the furniture.” As parents, we must be flexible, yet firm with our expectations, and be prepared to readjust our vocabulary to fit an ever-changing society’s.

The bottom line is this: Parenting is not for sissies.

Just when you think you’ve FINALLY gotten it figured out, something new and unexpected comes barreling down your path! Stay the course. Consistency is going to be the key. And, when in doubt, go back and sneak a peek at Amelia Bedelia…there are genuine gemstones nestled within the pages of her adventures.

You got this, Mama!

Have a great week!