Reverse Pshychology Optimism and Pictures that Make Me Sad (in a Happy way)

I started scribbling some notes for a blog post I wanted to write on the back of my grocery list. I went to the store and then threw my reminders away because I forgot they were there. I do remember that I was contemplating expectations.  Expectations are the worst, mama.

You expect that when you buy the lotion with the "subtle" self-tanner in it, it will gently ease the glaring white of your legs away without obvious streaks and an observable sock line. If it says "avoid feet and knees" what do you do about those pale areas?  And just how long do I have to let this dry on my skin before I can put clothes on? My little kids may be comfortable with naked, but I am not.

You expect that when you spend Saturday cleaning the living areas of the house, Sunday playing with children outside, Monday washing laundry, Tuesday chauffeuring children between learning activities and sporting events that Wednesday will find you with your feet propped up in the middle of beauteous order.  When do they find the time to destroy so much of our environment? Can I have a little bit of Earth Day's sympathetic feelings?

You expect that making a monthly menu will ensure that you always have a dinner plan. How am I supposed to decide what kind of soup and sandwiches to make on "Soup & Sandwich Night"? Can this involve a can opener without my mama guilt going into overdrive?

You expect that after one friend tells you that shaving one's arms is the easiest thing ever another friend will calmly speak reason into your heart. Or at the very least, maybe there would be a little twinge of hesitation saying "this isn't going to turn out well."

A Later Note:
I started writing this yesterday, but was pulled away before I could finish and click "Publish." Go figure.  Maybe I should just start expecting the worst in every situation and then I can be pleasantly surprised when my expectations are not met. It's reverse psychology optimism.
Except this didn't work out with my dinner conundrum.  "Soup & Sandwich Night" turned into hot dogs and baked beans served on paper plates. Pretty much the losingest supper ever. Meh. It kept me from overeating.

Let's finish on a happy note. Look at these pictures from earlier this week:

I love this picture, except it makes my baby look like a toddler.

What? She's not a baby any more? These pictures were supposed to make me happy, not remind me how fast my little Chilibeans are growing up.

This Chilibean is really into making "serious" faces when I try to snap her picture. Sometimes she just looks stoned. She doesn't understand that phrase, so we just left it at she just looks "too grown up."

This little Chilibean is not grown up.  Because I am a grown up (although just barely) and it was a LOOOOOONG time ago that I could do this.