The Patience Tank

Raising young children requires a tank of patience so deep and so wide, you can scarcely imagine it until you're there yourself. I'm talking about tantrums over a piece of food falling, tears over being asked if they need to use the potty and fights over rocks in a pail.

I consider myself a relatively patient person when it comes to my kids. I try not to yell a whole lot, as I believe in leading by example. Instead, I choose to use a very firm tone. To not yell several times a day takes up a lot of the patience in that tank.

At the end of most days, the tank has some patience leftover. Some days, though?

Some days, I'm ready to call "Do over!" at 9am and put us all back to bed until the next day when we can start over.

Some days, when the kids are at each other's throats and mine, and we've made it all the way through lunch and I'm exhausted, I spend the hour until nap just laying on the living room floor. This seems to have a weird calming effect on the kids. One or both of them end up cuddling with me, or they play like angels together. I can't explain it.

Some days, as soon as Steve walks in the door, I'm walking out of it, leash in hand, to go on a walk with the dogs in the quarry. He encourages it- one of the many, many reasons I love him.

On those days, when the patience tank seems to have sprung a leak, I try to take deep breaths and remember the whole: "Don't let a bad day make you feel like you have a bad life".  Each and every day is different; the bad ones just seem to be much longer than the good ones. I try to find something really good to look forward to- a walk, a TV show, a glass of wine with Steve- and do what I can to make it through until then.

This raising-kids-stuff isn't for the weak-hearted, let me tell you.