Early on Thanksgiving, my expectations for the day were dashed.

Our friends, who were supposed to come over for Thanksgiving dinner, had to cancel because of illness. I was glad they didn't want to share their germs. It didn't hurt my feelings so much as change what I thought the day would look like. The whole holiday weekend, and maybe my whole life, has gone that way. So, I'm thinking about expectations.

Expectations and worry are stories we tell ourselves, and these stories are unlikely to play out as we imagine. I've heard that a way to counter this is to stop making up stories of expectations and worry and to instead live in the present moment. I like this idea, but the reality is that I often need to plan ahead and this requires thinking about how things may go and what I need to do or get when and where.

What happens when we plan ahead, but events don't go as anticipated?

On Thanksgiving, my plans were changed by something that happened outside of my control. Instead of cooking our food earlier in the day to get ready for our guests, I found it easy to enjoy our extra time together. Our morning was so long and leisurely that it lasted until about four in the afternoon. My son and his father built train tracks from the table through the living room, around the couch, and back to the table. I would never have had the patience or attention span for this. My son was in utter heaven, and his dad got to spend hours of focused time with his son. It was definitely a day to be thankful for.

Part of why the day was good is that I've been trying hard to let go of what I think things should look like. Who am I really? Only one of three people in this family. Why should it be my plan, my expectations, fulfilled?

Even after I’d had this enlightening experience with how to deal with unmet expectations, I found how easy it is to silently slip back into my old expectations. Just a few days later, over the weekend, we were getting ready to decorate the Christmas tree. Rather than finding decorations in the garage, my son discovered a battery-operated train set we had just inherited from a friend. He was so taken with it that he cared about nothing else. 

I found myself feeling frustrated, even angry. I had a whole picture of how the afternoon was supposed to go. We were going to listen to Christmas music, hang lights, and tell stories about where each decoration came from. He didn't care at all.

Luckily, I was able to stop myself from the bad mood I felt coming. Lately, I have started noticing that I feel my body heat up when I'm feeling angry. I literally need to cool down. So, I walked outside to re-pot a plant and left my husband inside to help my son with the train. 

When I re-entered the house, my son walked into my arms. The tracks kept popping apart, and the train wouldn't ride the rails. He was disappointed. I gave him a hug and said we'd figure it out. We walked into the sunroom and tried one more track maneuver. Rather than throw it out the window, I playfully suggested that we just put the tracks back in the box and run the train on the floor. We could pretend the whole room was tracks. 

Later, when we were listening to Christmas music as we were putting up the tree, I didn't even try to make up a story about how decorating was going to go. I just experienced it as it happened and that was enjoyable. I hope to be able to do the same through the cooking-decorating parties we've been invited to, our town's tree lighting festival, caroling, and whatever other holiday events we've got on the calendar.

How was your Thanksgiving? Did it go as expected? What kinds of plans and hopes do you have for the rest of your holiday season? What are your strengths when it comes to handling unmet expectations?

#normalizenurturing

Art is one thing I feel like I really don't do enough of with the kids. 

I am a big, ole Scrooge when it comes to any art other than drawing. The thought of clay, paint, and the like just makes me cringe: all that mess and chaos, ugh!

Don't get me wrong: I love to do art myself. I love it! Love, love, love it, but I tend to be kind of lazy when it comes to breaking out the messy stuff for my brood. Or, I thought it was laziness. Today, I'm thinking it is more like a self-preservation instinct. 

I was recently reading a blog post describing a lovely winter trees project involving shaving cream, so I bought a couple cans of shaving cream and cleared off the kitchen table.

Things started out innocently enough. My three children were swirling colors and dipping papers.

If you want this to be a blog post that inspires you to do art with your kids, stop reading now. Get some cans of shaving cream and have fun.

If you want to hear our story, read on.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END

My oldest son started rubbing shaving cream on his tummy. I told him that he needed to clean up. While helping him get started on cleaning up, the two younger kids began rubbing shaving cream all over their bodies. I went with my daughter and other son to clean up in the bathroom.

When I came back to the kitchen, my oldest son had stirred his shaving cream as fast as he could until all of the color mixed into a putrid green. When the two kids came back from the bathroom, the other son excitedly followed suit and mixed his shaving cream into a green mush, too.

I felt irritated that they were ignoring the whole concept of making beautiful art and instead focusing on the smoosh factor. I tried not to let it get to me: Intellectually, I know that it was still a fun tactile experience for the boys, even if they weren't making art as I had planned. 

I praised my daughter's shaving cream swirls as they really were lovely. The boys then asked me to help them make swirls, too. I added more color to their piles of green shaving cream and all the kids successfully made swirly art.

I wish I could end the story here.

IT ALMOST ENDED LIKE THIS

Once everyone had made several swirly art pictures, I started cleaning up. I admit that I felt a bit frazzled and ready for the art project to end.

While my back was turned, the kids again rubbed shaving cream on their bodies. I remember how their laughter began to get that crazy sound to it. You know, when the sound shifts from joyful, delightful giggling to insane, overstimulated, maniacal screams of laughter. I turned around as plops of shaving cream landed on the floor and chairs and my clothes.

What came next was not my finest moment.

I yelled, a bit. I tossed out some choice phrases that had no business being said to children. Maybe "yelled a bit" is being too kind. I screamed. I lost it.

All I could think was that I had spent all this effort trying to do something fun and special with them, and they were almost literally throwing it in my face. My oldest son got the brunt of my anger, because I reasoned that he "should know better" being the oldest and because I blamed him for the mischief. I sent the three kids to the bathroom to clean up.

When I had calmed down a little, I walked into the bathroom to see how clean-up was going. They were playing in the bathroom sinks with the shaving cream!

Thankfully, at that moment, my husband came home. He took over clean-up of the kids and the bathroom while I cleaned up the kitchen table and focused on calming down again.

A BETTER ENDING

After a few deep breaths, I went to talk to my oldest son. I apologized for yelling. We talked together about where things went awry. I asked him: "If you were at school, would you have taken the art supplies and started rubbing them all over his body?" He laughed while saying no. I explained that I was angry that he and his siblings had misused the art supplies. He replied, "But the shaving cream just feels so good!"

I told him that there is a time and place for whole-body art. At home, this time and place is outside in the summer where they can be hosed-off afterwards before coming into the house. 

Then, I had a light-bulb moment!

"The other place for whole-body art," I said, "is in the bathtub where all the mess can be rinsed down the drain."

Frankly, I'm thinking all art should be done in the bathtub in the future. It really is the perfect location.

THE LESSON LEARNED

What is the moral of this story? I need to approach art with the kids differently. I need to expect mess. Expecting specific aesthetically pleasing results is just setting myself up for disappointment and stress. 

Underestimating the amount of mess that can be made with two cans of shaving cream was a grave error in judgment on my part.

After thinking about it, the whole point of art is to enjoy the process and not worry too much about the end result. I lost that focus while gazing at pictures of magical, snowy trees and imagining my kids making something similarly cute. The kids' aim, though, was to enjoy the process. 

As I reflect on what I could have done differently today, the experience is not without merit. I learned, and relearned, some important lessons.

#normalizenurturing

Warm relationships with other adults sustain us when we're struggling or feeling isolated. These "villages" are our connected communities of caring adults who support us in nurturing our relationships with our children. 

                                      "It takes a village to raise a child." ~ African proverb

Our villages often contain our closest friends but are more than a set of friends. They are friends, neighbors, extended family members, and acquaintances who–whether intentional or even knowing–help deliver us as parents to our children. We are full participants, receiving support while offering our care and support to others.

WHO IS IN YOUR VILLAGE?

As with our children, we have learned that relationship-building is at the heart of our villages. Establishing and maintaining relationships of any kind takes effort and persistence, and this can be intimidating especially at first. It is rare to stumble into a ready-made community and feel immediately welcome. Even in inclusive and inviting groups, you may have found that you still had to reach out, show up frequently, extend invitations repeatedly, and have patience. 

Finding a village requires vulnerability. We had to extend ourselves and make invitations that may not have always been accepted. This was challenging. The challenge didn’t end once we established relationships. Opening our homes and our lives to other people also opens our hearts to hurts, but we learned that we must do so to create genuine relationships.

Building a strong village also required us to accept differences. While we're all looking for people who share our values or who are otherwise like us, true community allows for diversity. While we do not want to sacrifice our values for the sake of connection, we learned that authentic connection runs deeper than our similarities.

WHAT DOES CREATING YOUR VILLAGE LOOK LIKE?

Sometimes, we find our villages in organized parent groups in our community. Other villages seem to arise out of the people already in our lives. We may need to be intentional in creating and sustaining a community through planned activities. Which of these village-building ideas are your favorites? 

• Invite friends to join in your family’s celebrations such as holidays, birthdays, or family meals;
• Begin a tradition with friends that allow for long stretches of relaxed time together such as camping trips;
• Walk your dogs, and children, together;
• Begin an online social group of families from your geographic neighborhood and use it to create opportunities for meeting in person;
• Visit your local farmers market;
• Open your house or backyard to your neighbors for a shared meal;
• Ask for help as needed (even if you feel you don’t need it) as many people enjoy giving support to others;
• Offer to help others when you recognize a need.

The idea is that we find easy ways to find “our people” – those friends who support us to be the parent we want to be. They come alongside us when it’s hard, help us answer our questions, encourage us to grow into our roles as moms and dads. And we do the same for them! That’s what it means to be part of our village. What does your village look like?

#normalizenurturing