There was a time when patience was my strong suit. I could stand in line at the coffee shop without so much as a sigh, and I never felt my heart race when someone ahead of me was driving a little too leisurely. Even my husband’s long-winded anecdotes didn’t bother me, and the socks strewn about the house? I’d just roll my eyes and move on.
Ah, those were the days.
Back when I didn’t constantly wear a perplexed expression, feeling my blood pressure spike at the sight of a long queue at the DMV, especially when I was racing against the clock to pick up my little one from school. The mess in my laundry room? It was a mere inconvenience then, rather than a source of daily frustration.
Excuse me a moment.
CAN WE SPEED THIS UP? DANCE CLASS STARTS IN TEN MINUTES!
Where was I? Right. Patience—or rather, the lack of it that’s become my new normal.
Since welcoming children into my life, my patience has dwindled to almost nothing. It’s as if the very essence of my calm demeanor has been siphoned away. I’m now perpetually on edge, waiting for the next minor inconvenience to send me over the edge.
For example, just the other day, I lost my cool in front of my neighbors, clad in my cozy bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, because my son missed the school bus. Or there was that Thanksgiving morning when I erupted in frustration at my husband and family over a frozen turkey with a house full of guests arriving in just hours.
Every simple task, such as sorting laundry or paying bills, becomes a Herculean effort, interrupted by a pet running through fresh asphalt or kids attempting wrestling moves in the hallway.
YOU NEVER MENTIONED YOU NEEDED THAT UNIFORM CLEANED!
Sigh. As mothers, we simply don’t have time for the nonsense. Our schedules are tightly packed because every task requires an extra ten steps, thanks to the endless distractions that come with parenting. And even when we anticipate the toddler’s last-minute bathroom emergencies right as we’re about to leave or the teenager’s project due at dawn, we can never seem to catch a break.
Of course, the washing machine breaks down on a day when I have seven loads waiting. It’s always something, isn’t it? There’s always a child waking up sick, throwing a fit in the grocery store, or interrupting an important call, turning us into a spectacle while we try to maintain our composure.
Every day, mothers face unexpected hurdles that make patience feel impossible. We’ve earned our impatience, after all.
THE REPAIR PERSON WILL ARRIVE BETWEEN 8 A.M. AND 8 P.M.? LOVE IT.
We’ve definitely earned the right to feel exasperated when another parent floods an email thread about a school event. Sifting through countless emails just to find out how many juice boxes I need to provide is enough to test anyone’s patience.
And, frankly, I don’t care if my annoyance is evident while I wait for the woman ahead of me in line to figure out her return. My priorities have changed, and I simply can’t afford any delays.
Am I proud of my newfound impatience? No. Should I aim for a calmer mindset and try to roll with the punches instead of letting the chaos around me get to me? Probably.
But as a mother, I’ve learned that patience doesn’t come with the territory. Kids make everything more complicated, slower, and stickier. Nothing is straightforward anymore. Everything has become a drawn-out process filled with arguments and discussions, and I’ve long since said goodbye to my former patience.
If you need me, I’ll be here, waiting—impatiently—for the washing machine repairman to arrive.
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In summary, motherhood has transformed my previously patient nature into a state of constant hurry. Every moment feels like a race against time, and the chaos of daily life often leaves little room for the calm I once embraced.