If you could have any super power, what would you choose?
Most people, if asked, would come up with something traditional: flying, super strength, invisibility — stuff right out of the comic books.
But there’s another set of “powers” that most people wouldn’t even think of: kindness, the ability to love unconditionally, patience. That last one in particular — patience — is what I would choose.
I am not a patient person.
I am that person who is annoyed when the old lady in front of me waits an extra two seconds before proceeding when a red traffic light (finally) turns green.
I will drive an extra couple of miles to a (more expensive) grocery store that has a self check out just so I won’t have to wait in line.
I have never watched the previews before a movie in my life and sitting through television commercials when watching my favorite shows just about drives me batty.
Believe it or not, none of this made much of a difference in my life before. Sure, I was impatient, but I have worked out ways over the years to eliminate the little delays that irritate me. Seriously, it’s all good.
But I never had kids before …
My oldest son Ben is now 5-years-old and is discovering (and testing) his independence — and I’m torn.
Part of me claps and cheers when I see him asserting his will over peers. After all, I don’t want to be raising a sheep. I want him to stand up for himself, think for himself and to question authority.
Just not my authority.
Leaving the house with the kids to go anywhere is one of the most stressful, annoying, grit-my-teeth situations I find myself in all day.
I start off with my cheery mom Mary Poppins voice: “Come along children, let’s go get in the car!” All they have to do is put their socks and shoes on. That’s it.
Thirty minutes later, Mary Poppins is long gone and I’ve been taken over by Lord Voldemort: “I SAID NOW!”
How can it be possible to take someone a half hour to put on a pair of shoes? God forbid if it’s a little chilly out and we need to wear a jacket as well — we won’t make it out of the house before nightfall …
It’s situations like this where my lack of patience is most problematic. Part of me wants to just grab the shoes and do it for him — and sometimes I do — but for the most part I try to let him do it himself. After all, he needs to learn, right?
It’s the same when cooking. I want my boys to be comfortable in the kitchen and able to fend for themselves as adults when it comes to making a decent meal. But something as simple as baking chocolate chip cookies is absolutely nerve wracking for me because we’re on our fourth attempt to crack a single egg in the bowl and my blender beaters are MIA, last seen being used as drumsticks on overturned pots.
Again, deep breaths, you can do this.
Do we get through it? Sure. And the kids have a great time. Meanwhile, I’ve got a tension headache and quite possibly a bleed on the brain.
Patience — true patience — is a gift, and a rare one at that. I keep hoping it’s one of those “fake it ‘til you make it” things, but I can put on my happy face all I want and it does nothing to change inner-Kasie who is screaming at the top of her lungs in frustration that everything is taking too long.
The French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau famously said “Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.”
It makes sense now why I’ve always preferred vegetables.