This year, I decided to create an Advent calendar for the holidays. As I stuffed each glittery pocket with three pieces of candy for my children, I imagined them coming down the stairs in the morning, filled with excitement to discover their treat. I envisioned delightful laughter and warm embraces. However, this “special” moment lasted all of two days.
By the third day, my children were bickering over who got which piece of candy. I had foolishly assumed that picking three different types of candy would be fun. It turned out to be so much fun that I tried to drown out their squabbling by running the vacuum cleaner. Before I knew it, I was wrestling with the vacuum in my pajamas, yelling, “Who cares what kind of candy you get! This was supposed to be special!” Any semblance of specialness I had hoped for had vanished.
As I retreated upstairs to regain my composure, I realized that I was trying too hard to create special experiences for my kids. My expectations for how they should react to these moments were unrealistic. It’s not that my partner and I spoil them with too many material gifts; it’s that I overwhelm them with attempts to manufacture special moments. Those experiences belong to them, and just because I find them significant doesn’t mean they will. When they don’t respond in the way I expect, I feel frustrated and disappointed, as if my efforts are being overlooked.
Reflecting on my own childhood, I recall that the most magical moments were spontaneous and unexpected. They didn’t stem from elaborate plans or high expectations; they simply occurred. For instance, there was a day when my partner came home early during the first week of school for all three kids. We enjoyed an impromptu lunch of fried chicken, something we hadn’t done in years. It was so much more fulfilling than any carefully orchestrated night out.
Another cherished memory is when I walked into my son’s room and found a wilted bouquet of dandelions. When I pointed out their state, he innocently replied, “No mama, they are just turning into wishes.” That, to me, embodies what “special” truly means.
As I consider stepping back, lowering my expectations, and allowing my children to define their own special moments, I see the potential for more genuine experiences. This year, I might skip the candy in the Advent calendar altogether. I’ll stop asking for their input on dining out, as that often leads to endless arguments. Instead, I’ll make the call on where we eat, taking the stress out of the decision-making process.
Moreover, I plan to avoid hyping up our outings, especially to places that don’t live up to the excitement. Less frequent visits might allow them to appreciate the experience more. I don’t expect perfection from my kids, nor do I want every day to be flawless. I still want to create beautiful memories, but I’ll approach it with a different mindset. Ultimately, what’s truly special is a mom who maintains her composure instead of losing it over trying to make every moment extraordinary.
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Summary
The author reflects on the pressures of creating special moments for her children, realizing that spontaneity often leads to the most memorable experiences. She resolves to lower her expectations and allow her kids to define what is special, emphasizing the importance of maintaining her own peace as a parent.