Fortunately I don't have standards.
DS1 set the tone with the ridiculous bump growth. At week 38, measuring 45 weeks pregnant, the MW plotted the fundus measurement somewhere near the title of the page, and sighed "it's just the way you grow" as I'd had another clear growth scan days before. He did not mimic my quick entry into the world... I ended up in HDU and met him a few hours later when he came out after obs in NICU.
I held off TV for a year... pregnancy 2 on crutches with SPD meant that Cbeebies and looping DVDs of Fireman Sam/ Thomas were essential for survival.
He was going to be well dressed... I battled, physically battled to get clothes on him when he was 2. I remember buying the most gorgeous coat and dungarees in Next that had "Figen-gens" on them thinking that he would surely wear them... did he heck. That winter, the coat was in the basket under the buggy. DS2 inherited mint condition dungarees. Having survived the winter that he turned 3 without sucumbing to hypothermia, I gave up battling. He does not at 9, own trousers other than a token pair to be sent and return from multiple Scout camps with tags attached.
He was going to walk, even if it took 30 minutes and 5 meltdowns to walk 300m. In my defence, SPD meant it was too painful to use a buggy at that point, but it just seemed ridiculous to move the car double the distance to save 200m of walking, plus there would have been a similar battle to get him into the car at both ends.
I've done well on eating at the table, but he now has a diagnosis of dyspraxia, so eating anywhere without wipe clean surfaces ain't happening. I did well at eating what we eat...even if that meant cooking parallel meals around DS1's multiple food allergies... but I have rarely cooked something totally different. I wasn't going to wean until 6 months, but both babies started raiding off our plates at 23 weeks. McDonalds was a safe allergen friendly bet for food when out.
His autism diagnosis last year also explained a lot about battling through the pre-school years.
DS2 just sort of exists around the edges (in terms of parenting) and was fortunately a content, sunny baby who was happy to self service at breast feeding in a sling or while co-sleeping while I battled on against the forces of undiagnosed toddler. At 7 & 9, they are great kids (annoying, slow to follow instructions such as "put your socks in the drawer" -abandons them on bed), but generally great. 
Do what you have to do to survive the day.
Embrace the minecraft