We're Never Prepared for What We Expect

Many years ago, I was listening to James Michener's Afghanistan epic, Caravans. Yes, listening -- I'm a fierce fan of recorded books. Anyway, during one of Big Jim's countless descriptions, a phrase he used jumped out and smacked me in the head. He was describing the Hindu Kush mountains when he said, "We are never prepared for what we expect."

Holy Cow! How insightful is that? "We are never prepared for what we expect."

The phrase stayed with me and has helped me in so many situations. That includes the key new event in my family's life -- my elderly parents moving in with us in the spring of 2008.

Of course I expected them to change how we live. I expected them to have to change how they live. I expected we'd all have to make adjustments. I just wasn't prepared for what I expected.

Is it difficult? Yup -- we're talking about 4-5 adult personalities complete with individual views and opinions all trying to share close quarters, respect each others’ space and keep our sanity.

Is it stressful? See above.

Is it sometimes sad? Try watching the World War II flying Ace spend more then 10 minutes trying to walk from the family room to the bathroom. Hearing him ask "what is this?" in reference to the tossed salad on his plate or tell you there are people in the room he doesn't know when there's no one there at all. Or when his bride of 56 years needs you to replace the pump hand soap with a bar soap because she's too weak to push down the plunger on the bottle.

Is it sometimes funny? Picture said mobility-challenged ace using the treadmill when he can't even get his feet to move. (relax, he hasn't used it, but he sure wants to!) He'd look like something from a Benny Hill Sketch. Or when the Ace and Mrs. Ace get the giggles as the little bird that she is tries to pull him up out of a chair. And chatting with him is often like playing the telephone game. You say something and he hears something entirely else and responds to what he thinks he heard. Sure makes for lively conversation.

Do we wish they'd never moved in? No way. Seeing how things are now, we are grateful we were able to make it happen. The notion of their being in this kind of shape, but still 200 miles away, driving [we shudder to think], eating only what they can put in a microwave, or, in his case, wandering outside alone on a winter night looking for a hose to rinse the grape jelly off an imaginary 4-year-old son is not what any of us would want.

Happy, sad, stressful and all, having them here assures us that they are being cared for, fed and protected just as they have always done for us. It affords much peace of mind, even if we weren't prepared for what we expected.