If you know me, the real me, you’ve likely heard me be critical, a bit judgemental.  Maybe of someone else.  Maybe of you.  Certainly of me.   In short…I have high, frankly unreasonable expectations.   For everyone.

But I’m no harder on anyone than I am on myself.  Sometimes that makes trying to be a good employee a supportive wife and a great mama a challenge.  And THAT means I spend too much time feeling like I haven’t done enough one place or the other.

Even in petty matters…I get my hopes up.  We tried this weekend to get family photos taken.  Talk about a lesson in expectations.  No matter the planning that went in to outfits, props, possible poses…you can’t force perfect.

I should have known K wasn’t going to listen when he refused to sit at a high chair for breakfast.  Or wear clothes.  What I didn’t see coming was the goose poop he wouldn’t be able to resist stepping in.  The pond he would be obsessed with.  That he would cry when he tried to tell him to do anything other than throw grass in the water.  And that he would spend 98% of his time running away from the camera.  How can we capture the best of K when he is acting at his worst?

On the way home, I was pouting in the car and wiping goose poop from my pant legs.   J piped up with “well we tried”, and urged that perhaps I need to learn to manage my expectations.

And he’s right.  He’s annoying when he’s right.

I’m not sure why I think that a snapshot of “us” should be perfect when our day to day isn’t perfect either.  What’s more important, I need to accept that short of perfect…is perfectly fine too.

So here’s a not so perfect shot of us.  And I’m perfectly fine with that.

 

 

 

 

 

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