Expectations are interesting things – everybody has them, and often they can look very different. But how do you come to a peaceful outcome when clashing expectations lead to frustrations? Let’s explore.
Last week was half term here in Sheffield and we took off as a family for the Arctic Circle. It was Matt’s and my first snowboard trip in 10 years and since our now 8 year old had shown considerable enthusiasm it seemed like a good time to take her to the snow.
We’d prepared the ground with trips to a snow dome in Manchester, she’d had some lessons and got to grips with the very basics. However, it’s a bit of a step going from’ theory’ to practice – from the sheltered confines of a 50m slope to an actual arctic environment, complete with sub zero wind that whipped ice particles into the air as if caught in a snow cannon.
No matter how much we had tried to prepare her for the reality of a bruised butt and a requirement for considerable determination. Even though we had tried to prepare her with the knowledge that learning to snowboard was not as simple as it looked, our kid still expected to be able to arrive at the top of a snow laden mount and glide back down effortlessly.
The reality of the situation came as an unwelcome bump (yes, both literal and metaphorical).
Now, I was prepared for her to struggle, but I was not expecting outright refusal after day one. Snowboarding has been a love of mine since my early twenties, the same for my husband, in fact we first met at a resort in New Zealand. I remember vividly the process of learning and how much it sucked – I was realistic about that, but I expected her to persevere – an expectation based on my desires not hers.
The kid was frustrated and stubbornly refused. Once again Ski school was suggested, her response was outraged and feral. She’s always railed against group activities that get dressed up as ‘fun’ when they’re blatantly a form of tuition and ‘ski school’ is pretty much a give away name! Who would choose to spend their school holidays at another form of school??
The next day we, the parents, reasoned, requested and cajoled. Our frustration grew. Why wouldn’t she just give the damn board another go?? Equally the kid refused, cried and sulked. Why wouldn’t her damn parents leave her alone.
By the evening I was sick of fighting. Sick of arguing and wondering why the heck we were there. I fell asleep at 8pm (that’s 6pm UK time) exhausted by all the drama.
Understandably, I woke early at 5am and found myself to still be in a funk.
So I got curious. Knowing that I could only choose MY response, I started to wonder why I was so adamant that she should snowboard. I reminded myself that this snowy ski hill environment was entirely new to her, everything had the potential to be exciting. Why would she consider spending hours of her day bruising her butt and falling down when she could be sledging, or building snowmen or making snow angels?
Why was I so determined to get her to commit to something that I myself had found so difficult to master? Perhaps it was BECAUSE I had found it so hard – I had felt like a relative late comer (in fact I was only 22, but I had always doubted my ability in sports). Maybe it was because as a child, I would have killed for the opportunity to ski, and I wanted her to want it too.
The more I looked at it, the more I could see that my reasoning was based on my own desires rather than hers. It was based on my own criteria of ‘success’ and ‘fun’ and didn’t take her wants into account. I could feel shame faced admitting this, but I see it as a triumph – I recognised that my expectations were the problem and chose to remove them from the situation.
I could see that my husband had his own expectations for our daughter’s snowboard progression and decided that it wasn’t my responsibility to change his mind, I knew that he too would come to a similar outcome in his own way.
We chose to take our daughter snowboarding because of OUR love of snowboarding. We knew from the start that we would be sharing responsibility to hang out with her whilst the other hit the slopes. Whether she chose to do that on a sledge, a snowboard or on the back of a yeti – that was her choice, we could choose to enjoy the mountain in our own individual way. Our mutual happiness was not dependent on a shared activity.
From that moment, each of us seemed to relax. We surrendered our expectations of the behaviour of another and enjoyed our holiday greatly.
When you find yourself getting frustrated with the expectations of another it’s always useful to get curious about why that might be. What are the stories you might be telling yourself? Why is their choice so at odds to your own and does it really need to impact your decisions?
Even if there is a compromise required to make things work, understanding that you have a choice in how you respond is a good starting place.
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