Patience

I am NOT a patient person.  Regrettably, I think I passed this mountain of impatience onto my children, two in particular.  These last few months, LO just screams when something doesn't work out the way he wants it-- his shoe doesn't slide right on, there is butter on his pinkie finger, his sister doesn't give him what he wants.  It is such a loud and piercing scream that I about lose my mind trying not to scream back at him to stop-- yeah, a lot of good that would do, huh?  I found myself a few times this week just really really not liking my dear 3 year old (you can still love someone and not LIKE them, right?)   I got so exasperated with him one afternoon, I dumped a glass of water on his head because he just wouldn't stop screaming! Yeah, I know, really mature of me. 

Yesterday we went to Lagoon with my sis-in-law and her kids.  It rained buckets in the afternoon, I was freezing, and I didn't get to ride on any "fun" rides, but I was happy.  The reason I was so happy standing in the pouring rain was because I saw a three year old who may have been driving me crazy with his temper the last little while, but who was having a ball running around and going on rides.  He was squealing with laughter on one of the rides-- and I thought back to a year ago to this day.  I was holding that same tiny little two year old boy in an emergency room, and praying-- begging to be able to see him run around and get up and play soon.  A little boy who hadn't made much of a sound or a scream for at least two days, who just lay there limp in my arms and slept, who eventually ended up spending nearly a month in a hospital bed with at least four tubes coming out of his little body at one point.  So I told myself, rather-- I was prompted to remember, that I can be patient.  I can put up with his fits, and he will outgrow them (just like I might outgrow mine:).