In her book, Atlas of the Heart, Brene Brown defines disappointment as unmet expectations. Last weekend my husband, Chad, and I visited our oldest son, Payton, at the University of Portland for Family Weekend. Despite our efforts to be explicit about what we hoped for the weekend, we both came home feeling down.
We received the first email announcing Family Weekend a couple of months ago. I’d been smart – I clicked on the “register here” link and submitted our registration right then. Two months later, I couldn’t remember what I’d signed up for. I reviewed the agenda. Two events were ‘Sold Out” – the Comedy Show and the play. Had I signed up for one of them? I couldn’t remember. I guess we’d find out when we arrived and checked-in.
We’d taken Friday off from work so we could drive to Portland and be there about 3pm. We wanted to arrive in time to check-in then take the school tour from 4-5pm. We’d been to the school, but rarely. With Covid, drop off and pick up were rushed events. 15-minute increments and then quick “goodbyes”. We were looking forward to spending some time on campus.
The trip didn’t start well. We’d made it halfway through our three hour drive, and we stopped in Centralia for some coffee and gas. As he was getting out of the car, Chad realized he’d forgotten his wallet. And his vaccination card. We got our coffee (I paid) and stood by the car, contemplating our options. The girls could take a picture of his vaccination card. But what if the University asked for his ID? We could keep driving and chance it. What if they said “No”? The weekend would be a bust. We decided it would be best to drive back home, get his wallet and vaccination card, and arrive late so we could be sure Saturday would go smoothly. Maybe Payton would give us a tour. We texted Payton with our new arrival time: between 7:30 and 8pm.
The drive back to Seattle then down to Portland was slow. Traffic was terrible. Three accidents. We arrived at the University at 8pm. Payton came right out and said, “I’m hungry, let’s get dinner.” Please don’t think Payton was being rude – he’d declined a kind offer from his roommate to join him and his parents for dinner two hours earlier. Payton had waited to have dinner with us. We were all hungry. We drove to a burger place Payton liked – Killer Burger in NW Portland. I had the Peanut Butter Bacon burger. Sounds weird – it was delicious. We chatted while we filled our stomachs. We all felt better.
We arrived back at the dorm a bit after 9pm. Payton was hoping to introduce us to some of his friends and their families. The dorm was hosting an open house from 6:30-9pm. Maybe people were lingering? Nope. The dorm was empty except for a small group of kids standing at the front desk. “Hey Payton,” a girl called out. Payton waved and said hello. We walked to his room and delivered the box of goodies he’d asked for. I turn into a pumpkin at about 9:30, so we said our goodbyes.
Saturday’s Family Weekend agenda started at 9am with the President’s address. We’d agreed that Chad and I would attend the morning sessions on our own. Payton wasn’t too interested and he admitted, he doesn’t tend to stir before 9:30. We were okay with that. What 20-year old wants to hear the University President’s address? We’d see him at lunch.
The next morning, Chad and I arrived at the school and checked-in. I was excited to learn that we’d gotten tickets to the sold out Comedy Show. I was kinda proud of myself – usually I’m late to the game and miss out on anything that has limited tickets. A Comedy Show was also something different, and the thought of laughing sounded really good (context – Covid 19, working from home for two years, news that Russia might invade Ukraine…everything was simmering).
We enjoyed the morning sessions. It was nice to be inside the school, hear from students and faculty, and just be around other people. It was especially nice to sit in an auditorium and hear a live clapping. For the past two years our celebrations were limited to video calls, where a small group of people clapped through the microphone. Not the same.
It was especially nice to sit in an auditorium and hear a live clapping. For the past two years our celebrations were limited to video calls, where a small group of people clapped through the microphone. Not the same.
Payton was promptly ready for lunch at 12:30. We found a Mediterranean restaurant that served great sandwiches and bowls. After lunch, Payton asked, “So, what’s planned for the afternoon?” “Nothing,” I replied. “Well, you missed the tour, want one now?” Payton offered. “Yes!”
Payton walked us around the campus, taking us through his average day. I think we walked through his Monday and Thursday schedules – from building to building. We were surprised (and a little disappointed) the buildings were locked. The morning sessions turned out to be the only times we would see the insides of buildings, aside from the dining halls. That cut the tours pretty short. We walked through both days in about 20 minutes.
After the tour we stood around, not sure what to do next. We didn’t have any plans until the basketball game. There was a choir concert at 3pm. Payton wasn’t interested.
The basketball game started at 5pm and would likely end at 7pm. The Comedy Show started at 8pm. Chad and I wanted to do both. Payton wasn’t too enthusiastic. He made it very clear – basketball and dinner were the priority. If we could get those two and make it to the Comedy Show, great. If not, the Comedy Show would be the one to fall off the agenda. At least he was being clear about his expectations. And, I rationalized, could I really complain if I got a basketball game and dinner with my son?
It was 2:30. Hopeful we would be able to convince Payton to go to the Comedy Show, we agreed to part ways until the basketball game. Payton walked off to his dorm. Chad and I went for a walk around the town, then got coffee in one of the dining halls.
“Do you have a ticket for me?” Payton asked when we met up again. We were standing in front of the Chiles Center, home of Pilot’s basketball (and volleyball).
“No, they only gave us two. We assume you can get in free as a student.”
“Yeah, but I should probably go through the student entrance.”
“How will we find you?”
“I don’t know. This entrance will take me to the student section.”
“Wait,” I stopped. “We don’t get to sit together?”
That was the moment. My disappointment hit a low point. I’d given him the morning. And the afternoon. I’d given up the Comedy Show (we might still make it but based on Payton’s reaction, I was pretty confident we wouldn’t). Now I was going to a basketball game I didn’t care about, sitting in upper bleachers socially distanced from everyone but my husband. I love you, Chad, but this was NOT how I expected the weekend would go.
That was the moment. My disappointment hit a low point. I’d given him the morning. And the afternoon. I’d given up the Comedy Show (we might still make it but based on Payton’s reaction, I was pretty confident we wouldn’t). Now I was going to a basketball game I didn’t care about, sitting in upper bleachers socially distanced from everyone but my husband. I love you, Chad, but this was NOT how I expected the weekend would go.
My disappointment simmered as we watched the game. I wanted to be mad at someone, something. But who? What? Payton was sitting in the student section. With all of the other kids. None of the students were sitting with their parents. I forced myself to focus on the game. It ended up being a good one – down to the last minute. And U of P won, so it was a lively atmosphere.
We met up with Payton pretty quickly. Finding a dinner spot was harder than we’d hoped. The first place we picked didn’t have seating – it was all to-go. The second place had a 90-minute wait. We finally settled on a Noodle place that had a young kid serving who didn’t seem too thrilled to see more customers come through the door. As we were eating, he turned the “OPEN” light off. It was an hour before they closed (we validated by checking the hours online).. Dinner was….fine.
As expected, we didn’t make it to the Comedy Show. We dropped Payton off and headed to my sister’s house. We were staying with her. And thank goodness we were. Ending the night chatting with my sister, brother-in-law and nephew was a lot nicer than sitting in a quiet hotel room.
On Friday night, as we were driving to dinner, Payton had told us he had an Ultimate Frisbee scrimmage on Sunday. He’d told the team he wouldn’t make it, since his Mom and Dad were in town. He mentioned it to us because he wanted to make sure we had plans on Sunday. If we did, he was committed to spending the day with us. If not, he wanted to go to the scrimmage. The agenda for Family Weekend Sunday morning was mass. We don’t go to church, and we didn’t have any other plans, so we said he should go to the scrimmage. We might even watch the game. “It’s only a scrimmage,” Payton quickly pointed out. We promised him we wouldn’t cheer. “Okay good, because if you do, I’m kicking you out.”
On Sunday morning we drove to the game. It was cold, but sunny. The game had already started, so we found a spot on the sideline, away from both teams. We wanted to get closer to Payton’s team, but that would have required us to walk on the field past all of the players. And there wasn’t much space. So we stayed put, with a small handful of other onlookers.
After the game, we wanted to say “goodbye.” There was a second game in about an hour, but we’d decided not to stay for it. Friday’s drive was so long, we wanted to be sure we’d get home at a reasonable hour so we could get ready for the upcoming week.
We walked towards the team and paused when we realized the team was headed our way (which was also towards the exit). As they walked by we waited for Payton to come over. He’d looked our way earlier, so I was pretty sure he knew we were there. Payton didn’t come over. He didn’t even make eye contact. As he walked by, he kept his eyes straight ahead. I could feel him telling us “not now.”
Ouch.
Chad started following the team. I stopped him. “Payton knew we were here. He chose not to say anything, so let’s not push it.” That was my practical side. My emotional side (which I kept to myself) said, “Fine. You don’t want to talk to us, we don’t want to talk to you either. We’re leaving!”
My emotional side (which I kept to myself) said, “Fine. You don’t want to talk to us, we don’t want to talk to you either. We’re leaving!”
And we left.
Grateful I’d just read Brene Brown’s chapter on disappointment, I was able to clearly articulate how I felt. “That weekend didn’t meet my expectations,” I declared. Chad said he felt the same way.
Why not?
We’d hung out with our son (three meals together and a tour of the school), we heard from students and faculty, sat in classrooms and seen some interesting presentations. We’d watched an exciting basketball game, and we’d spent some quality time with my sister and her family. Payton had been available whenever we’d asked him to be (aside from the final goodbye). He’d even offered to skip his scrimmage to be with us. So, what fell short?
Maybe it was the fact that we hadn’t met any of Payton’s friends or other families (aside from Jonah, whom we met quickly as we passed in the hallway). We probably would have if we’d made the dorm’s Open House Friday night. We also realized we’d both really wanted to go to the Comedy Show. Maybe we should have dropped Payton off and gone ourselves. Hindsight is 20-20.
Our disappointment was no one’s fault, despite our desire to place blame somewhere. As we drove away I texted Payton, “Glad we got to watch a game. Seems like you guys just started finding your rhythm. Hope the second game goes well. Love you and thanks for a good weekend.”
Payton replied, “Oh yeah we also have a game at 12:20 but if you don’t stay hope you have a safe drive back.”
Since we couldn’t point it at anyone or anything, we let our disappointment sit with us on our three-hour drive home. It stayed through the night and into the next week. By the following weekend, it dissipated, and we were onto the next thing.
The Frampton Clan 