Expectations

During one of our first dates, Shane told me he liked clean kitchen cupboards. You know? Actually wiped out underneath all of the cans and stuff. He was twenty seven when we got together. He'd been married once already and thought about things like kitchen cupboards. I was twenty two, still somewhat resembled a wild animal, and had never even once considered the state of a kitchen cupboard before this conversation.

"I agree completely!" I lied through my teeth, "I hate dirty cupboards."

Shane was the most gorgeous creature I had ever come into contact with and I really, really wanted him to like me. "I can keep cupboards clean," I thought to myself, "How hard could that be?"

I thought about that conversation this morning as, almost fourteen years later, I set the sugar jar down in the cupboard and listened to it crunch on the layer of crumbs underneath it. I was in the process of digging my way through the cupboard looking for birthday cake mix. We are celebrating Alden's seventh birthday this weekend and I have a hell of a party planned.

Alden has the same capacity for expectations as both of his parents do. Yeah, I know. This is going to make for a long life. So naturally, I'm a bit nervous about his party.

I've rented an inflatable bouncer for the back yard, bought Sponge Bob cupcake holders complete with toppers, balloons, streamers, little lollipops and blow horns as party favors, and invited about eight children and their parents over for an evening of bouncing and pizza in the shady back yard. However, most of the parents have R.S.V.P.ed and there are only about three children planning to attend the party so far. Oh, I hope this is good enough.

The first time Alden ever entered our house, he ran upstairs and thoroughly explored each bedroom. He found the master with it's garden tub, double sink bathroom and it's sliding doors that open onto a private patio, and he decided to claim it as his room. For the next several weeks as we closed on the house, he talked about having his own big bedroom with his own big bathroom in the new house. Unsure of what exactly he was talking about, I didn't tell him that the master would be Mommy and Daddy's room. So it got good and stuck in his head.

On moving day, as we began moving our bedroom furniture into the master, he told us in no uncertain terms that he had claimed the "big room" as his. Then he proceeded to inform me of exactly where we should place his bunk bed.

We couldn't help but giggle, of course, before telling him that the little yellow room would be his. The look on his face as the reality sunk in touched my stomach with a truly odd mixture of sadness and hilarity. I really had trouble believing it. My sweet, ballsy little son actually thought he'd get the master bedroom!

He cried about the loss for two days, periodically trying to get me to change my mind and give him our room. The poor little guy felt genuinely ripped off. I wonder sometimes if Shane ever feels like this about my housekeeping abilities.

Luckily, I know all about expectations. I have thousands of stories in which I've been deeply disappointed in things not going my way. I suppose keeping my expectations in check, ideally having none at all, is one of those supreme lessons in life that make for fabulous birthday parties, whether they are fabulous or not. Wish me luck.