“I’m so much more patient,” I heard time and again as other women graduated from mom’s group. I laughed inwardly: That is so not me.
In some ways, becoming a mother has actually made me more impatient. I noticed myself getting worked up when I drove around the Target parking lot, unable to find the exit. I mentally berated myself when I took a wrong turn while driving. I tried not to lose it when the plane we boarded sat on the tarmac, waiting for a repair.
I think I’m less tolerant of inconveniences like these because my time is more precious to me these days. If a few spare moments are wasted on, say, trying to turn left against traffic, I think of all the things I could have done with that extra ninety seconds. Like eat a banana or go pee uninterrupted.
