Not the good kind of great expectations. The kind of expectations that it's just impossible to live up to, that people just won't keep pestering you about. At the moment it's the expectation of doing "more" on top of a job that is physically exhausting, a 2 year old that has entered the most exasperating phase of being spoiled, ornery, bratty, and so clingy that I seriously considered running away from home yesterday, and dealing with trying to get my husband through school that is sucking up every minute of his time. Where, precisely, does it sound like I have the capacity to do more?
I wake up to that same patience-testing 2 year old every morning after seeing my husband off to school by 7 every morning. And at that point I get ready, and if I'm lucky I get to take a shower, and then it depends on when I work. If I work in the afternoon, I get ready for that. If I work at night, I wait for awhile, trying to control the patience-testing 2 year old and keep her from making more of a disaster of my continually chocolate-milk-stained room. She has no respect for the fact that I just barely changed the bedding, which now sports a whole host of new chocolate milk stains. So, anyway, I go to work, which is, if we're being honest here, a 4 hour workout in which I do squats, stretches, lunges, weight lifting, and more walking that some people do in an entire day. Yes, I'm a librarian. You wanna argue with me about the physical aspects of my job? Bring it on.
So, after this four hour workout in which my feet are substantially abused and aching by the end of it, I usually get picked up late because I'm frequently forgotten, and head home starving, exhausted, sore, and just wanting to take a break. No such luck. I am either immediately expected to make dinner, or I am greeted at the door by a certain 2 year old who demands in a very loud voice "Cocoa!" and "Boney!" (baloney) and "Teewee!" (TV). And I spend the rest of my night catering to the whims of the 2 year old. Then, after I wrestle her into bed, I help my husband with his homework. I'm a good writer, though you may not think so since I'm really not making any literary effort to write this right now. And since writing is not his best area, I pretty much do most of his homework for that class. When he has a writing assignment in his film class, I help with that too. He's completely on his own for math and computer.
At this point, it is usually somewhere between 11 p.m. and 4 a.m. Leaving me exactly no time for myself. So on the nights that it is 11 p.m. I stay up til all hours of the night, trying to restore a sense of equilibrium to myself. Usually it works. This week, however, it is not working.
And now the 2 year old is screaming at me because I won't let her eat cookies for lunch, throwing things at me, and looking about ready to demand I put yet another movie in for her. I also have laundry going in the washer and dryer with at least 2 more loads to go, bedding that needs changing again, and a room that needs cleaning since the 2 year old has so destructively graced it with her presence. I want to run away from home so bad right now.
Who wants to bet that when I come home I get reamed for not doing something else good enough or often enough? I've got pretty good odds on it. My husband and I got whaled last night because we can't afford to buy his parents' car that they don't want anymore. They want us to sell all of our movies and his video games so we have more money. I wanted to tell them to *$#! off. We tried to get a loan to buy that car two months ago and they wouldn't do it. So we got criticized for not doing enough, not being enough, and not paying my in-laws enough.
Lifestyles of the Poor and Unknown are sucking right now.
Well, I have a load of laundry that needs to be changed, a daughter that has gone from being violent to being clingy with the speed of light, and a room that still needs to be cleaned and a bed that still needs to be made. If anyone wants to trade lives with me, let me know.