me vs. expectations. a daily battle.

I struggle with expectations.

I could start with that single sentence and go off in thirty different directions.

(Maybe I’ll revisit expectations again later.  It’s a beast of a problem, you know.)

Today I’ll reign it all in around this:

I struggle with this particular expectation –

I should accomplish certain tasks every day.

They could (and they do) vary with the rising of each sun.

But I always go to bed with the next day’s to-do list on repeat in my brain.

And I generally feel like a failure before my warm feet hit our freezing floor.

I ignore the alarm too many times.

There won’t be time to write a blog post before the kids wake up.  There won’t be time to even pretend to pray or center myself in Christ before more sweet cold feet come down the stairs to join me.  There won’t be time to sip the tea I have now come to enjoy.  Shoot, there probably won’t be time to take a shower.

And it’s not because I’ve been up all night with a newborn.  Everyone in our house routinely sleeps through the night beautifully.

So I began the day feeling behind.

And as the day proceeds I check off my to-do list with a green marker and admire the slashes through the words but bemoan all the items yet to be marked through.

The interruptions feel like, well – interruptions, and gracious is not the word anyone would use to describe my responses to those interruptions.

So even in the moment, I am thinking about how I must accomplish at least two more tasks.  I must get those clothes off the line before it rains tomorrow.  Mosely must write two more sentences in her narration notebook.  I must call that museum about the upcoming class they’re offering.

And every thing and every one between me and my musts seems like an enemy to my to-do list.  To my accomplishments.  To my expectations.

I’m pretty sure I don’t want this to be true.

I’m pretty sure my to-do list is not the be-all, end-all sign of my success or failure as a mother, as a teacher, as a human being.

It’s a very hard train to jump from.

You know, it’s sort of ridiculous.

If I put on my to-do list in my brain that I have no plans, that it’s a Saturday and I’ll take life as it comes at me; that it’s a vacation day and I’ll be happy following where the wind blows; then I find I am able to adjust those expectations.  I’m able to embrace the moment my son wants to show me the feather in his hands.  I’m able to answer yes to a request to bake chocolate chip muffins together.

Why is it so hard to alter those expectations on a regular day?

What’s my happy medium?

Are there any other expectation sufferers out there?

Do share.