My younger son points urgently at the manatee stamp on his arm and then at the real creature in the water. “That’s right, a manatee!” I exclaim and smile. I watch it float, just letting the water hold its massive bulk like magic. “Geeze, they really aren’t very bright, are they?” I think. Then I shrug and think, “Eh, whatever.”
We’re at Homosassa Springs Wildlife Park, a state park in Florida that’s home to five resident manatees and a variety of other Florida animals. It’s also where I had a life-changing experience when I was 10.
As a nature-loving third grader, I fell hard for the manatees. They were so cute and so innocent! I found out they were endangered, convinced my class to adopt one, and became a lifelong environmental activist.
Except when I returned as an adult, Homosassa was not the same as I had remembered it. Disappointing is an understatement. I left with a bad taste in my mouth, my heart just a little broken.
Looking back, I realized the weight of my expectations as an adult crushed any enjoyment I might have had there. It’s a lesson I’ve had to learn over and over again, especially as a mom.
From having a worry-free pregnancy to kids with no academic or social worries, real life has stomped all over my ill-founded hopes over and over again. I’ve learned to adjust my behavior and more importantly my perspective. That’s ranged from taking the bus instead of walking to prevent bleeding during my pregnancy to picking other hiking trails than the ones I planned on vacation.
But you know what? Reality is so much better than I what I expected. To quote on one my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, “Expectations are resentments waiting to happen.”
So for this trip to Homosassa, I let go of expectations. I didn’t expect my children to have lifechanging experiences. I didn’t expect it to be magical. At most, I expected it to be a nice day where we saw some manatees. And even if it wasn’t that, oh well.
Fortunately, it was a lovely, full day. Sure, my kids ran away during the ranger talk. But they stayed for 10 minutes, which is pretty great for a 2 and 4 year old. They didn’t watch the manatees adoringly. But they did point and squeal in delight at them. (And of course, giggled when they farted.) They don’t want to become marine biologists. But they love birds and wildlife even more than they did before, if that’s possible. They are not manatee fanboys. But they listened patiently while I spouted manatee facts at them. It was the most I could ask for – and more than I should.
By letting go of what “should” be or even what I want something to be, I’ve opened myself up to so much more possibility. Trusting the water to just hold me, like the manatee does, has its advantages. If I had held tight to those expectations, I wouldn’t had space in my hands and heart for nearly so much joy.
For more on letting go of expectations, check out Learning to Accept the Uncertainty of Being a Mom. For more essays on vulnerability and parenting, be sure to follow our Facebook page!