Great Expectations

I blame Disney.

And the Cleavers. And maybe a little bit of the Brady Bunch.

The Partridge Family is in the clear…although every single one of them had good singing voices, so maybe I do blame them as well, because honestly, not one of them sung off key?!

The Huxtable and Keaton families should shoulder some blame as well.

I won’t even mention the Walton or Ingalls families. And yeah, Mom, if you’re reading this, I’ll hold you and Dad responsible as well for making family and married life seem way too easy.

Not that I thought it would all be blue birds singing on my windowsill (curse you Cinderella), or have issues all resolved neatly within 30 minutes. I knew it would be tough at times. And sloppy. I guess I thought I’d be better at spotting those darn expectations by know before they bit me in the…errr…backside.

Nope. Not quite.

The Country Boy has been away from the farm because of work more than normal, which was already more than most people. Factors – twisty roads, dead cell phone batteries, long days, a man that doesn’t exactly talk a whole lot to begin with – also had communications down even further. There are days when I feel like we step back to the world of the Cleavers when it comes to technology – no cellphone calls, texts, emails, video chats, etc. Just extended periods of time where all you can do is think of your beloved, hope they are safe, and hope they are thinking about you, too.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. It also makes me glamorize what life will be like when the one I love returns.

Here comes the weekend – a glorious, no prior commitments weekend. Cue the blue birds! Tell the fawns to get the bunnies and meet me in the pasture stat! It’s time for perfect harmony!

Not quite.

Those darn expectations creep in like spiders, and we all know how I feel about spiders….

Apparently, I think of weekends as time where whole farm responsibilities aren’t solely on my shoulders. Someone (a handsome, rugged, country man of a someone) else is there to help me out with animals, laundry, cooking, girls – and doing it all with humor, gorgeous smiles, and style. I’ll keep getting things done, but I’ll have others to help me do it while making my heart pitter-patter at the me time.

The Country Boy, god bless him, looks at weekends as a time to relax at home…and by relaxing I mean hunting, spending time with the mules, hanging out with us women, and get recharged for the next week.

The girls love weekends that are filled with time that is totally unstructured. Play with nativity sets, read, craft, whatever – as long as I keep meals fairly normal, they’re perfectly happy to spend hours chilling out with one another.

So, when something comes up unexpectedly that causes our subconscious expectations to clash, issues happen, and we come nowhere near how Ma and Pa Ingalls handled problems. (Trust me, “for shame, children” was not what came out of my mouth.)

The good news is that everyone got back to normal fairly quickly (maybe not Leave It To Beaver quick, but, golly gee, who can do that?). We continued on our weekend and got back into a groove of sorts.

Then Monday comes, my Country Boy is off, and I work hard to keep my expectations for next weekend in check.

Maybe I need to watch some “Married with Children” reruns this week so I can get some Al Bundy type expectations in my brain….

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About CountryBoyCityGirl

A city girl who fell in love with a country boy. Found bliss, along with large piles of mule droppings for her and two little girls to now try to avoid.
This entry was posted in Parenthood, This thing called marriage and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Great Expectations

  1. Newt says:

    Love your blog, love your post! Expectations are generally better met when. . .adjusted! Looks like you’ve been recently married. After 14 years of marriage to the ultimate country boy (our hub’s might be twins, but mine is into horses instead of mules. . .although he really digs mulies. . .) I can truly say I’ve adjusted and am happier for it. I don’t mind feeding the managerie on occasion but I put my foot down (gingerly) when it comes to cleaning up the poop!

  2. Newt says:

    Hello friend, I’m leaving another comment because I was looking for a way to contact you by email. But maybe you’d prefer not to be contacted. I wanted to talk to you about your blog (love, love, love your header photo btw) so if you want to chat let me know how to contact you? Or maybe (I think it works this way but am not sure. . .) you can contact me from the comment I made? Hmmmm. . .

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