Category Archives: Patience

“Be Patient With Me…”

“Be patient with me, Mommy.”

This is what Emma wrote on the airplane coming home when we were delayed yet again.  This was what she wrote after spending four hours waiting to board the aircraft, an aircraft that never took off, a plane that sat at the gate for another two hours waiting for the pilot to show up, an airplane that we then had to de-plane when that same pilot never arrived, forcing us to stand for two and a half hours in the airline’s customer care line, only to be told we would not be able to get home for three more days, oh and by the way, our luggage was nowhere to be found.  Oops.  Sorry.  Shrug.

“Be patient with me…”

There were tears and a struggle to contain the overwhelming feelings of panic and exhaustion.  Cries and fists that pummeled, teeth that bit, flailing limbs, and I was right there, wanting to do the same.  Wanting to lash out.  Wanting to scream and do something that would make it all go away.  Change reality.  Change these feelings.  Change these circumstances.  Scream.  Disappear into the screams.  Clench my jaw, grind my teeth, breathe, clench, grind, breathe, clench, grind, breathe…

“Be patient with me…”

“You’re impatient,” people have repeatedly observed and thought to tell me.  Yeah.  I know.  That feeling that begins as mild anxiety, builds into an almost impossible feeling of discomfort…  the feeling that if I don’t DO something, anything right now, I will die… that’s my impatience.  I get that now, though I didn’t always.  It used to be I didn’t know what those feelings were called, I just knew I would do just about anything to avoid them.

“Be patient…”

There’s an ongoing irony to parenting.  How many times have I admonished my children to do the very thing I lack or am incapable of?  I remember going to a parent/teacher conference at my son’s school.  He was in grade school at the time and the teacher made a comment about how he needed to work on building his tolerance for frustration.  I replied, “Yup, that’s something his mom’s still working on too.”  The teacher looked at me with surprise.

“Be patient…”  

I try.  I am trying.  But don’t use me as a model.  I’m not very patient.  I tend to be controlling too.  I don’t like when things change suddenly, I feel calmer when I know what will happen next.  I don’t love spontaneity, it messes with my sense of order.  And once I’m in overwhelm, once the feelings are coming at me so quickly, I cannot access my thoughts, it doesn’t occur to me to say to the person I’m with, “Be patient with me…”

But my daughter did.  My daughter was able to get in touch with what she needed from me during a time of heightened distress.  So who was helping whom in that moment?  Was I helping her or was she helping me?

“Be patient with me…”

Em & N. ~ 2010

Em & N. ~ 2010