The Patience of a Saint

Patience and tolerance. Two virtues I used to have. But now, I'm losing them. Having children has eroded my good nature towards other people.

Patience is easy to explain. I have not had enough sleep for five years, so natural reserves of patience are low. I have two children who stress the remaining reserves to their limits, so I'm sorry, but there's not much left for outsiders. Actually, come to think of it, there's not even much left for the other half. (And doesn't he know it!)

You would have thought that having children would help teach you patience. But everyone has their limits. One of the things I find hardest is the total lack of urgency even when it's something they have chosen to do. All day they have been nagging me to go in the pool, so as soon as we're home, I switch on the filter, take off the safety net (highly recommend one of these even if it becomes a bit of a chore to take on and off), scoop out any leaves, bugs (and even bandicoots on one occasion), find the costumes, sun cream, hats, floats, goggles and miscellaneous toys required, and go to get them ready.

'Right, anyone ready for a swim??'
'Just a minute mummy.' 'We'll just finish our game mummy.'

'But I thought you wanted to go for a swim?'

'Oh we do mummy, in a minute mummy'

And I look at the clock, see how long we've got before the whole dinner time and evening routine is due to kick start. Not long.

I briefly consider dumping the idea of a swim. They're playing so nicely. But the consequences will be unbearable, so I persuade them that if we don't go in the pool now, it'll get too cold, too late, too dark, and we'll have to wait until another day.

At last, ready. Or ready to get ready at least. And even then, it's hard work. I really don't want to be chasing children round the room with costumes while they dance and sing 'Nudie Dudie' at the top of their voices. And then there's the sun cream torture. It has to be done. Almost every day, it has to be done, but that doesn't mean they'll make it any easier for mum. So I need tactics. Make it fun, make it a job Holly can help with, with lots of praise for the best sun creamer. Let Michael have a go even if he only ever does his right leg below the knee and half of the floor boards. Or I can just pin them down and slather it on as quick as possible (oops, forgot I supposed to be being patient.) There's something to be said for all in one body suits that cover arms legs and require minimum sun cream...


So, swim suits on, hats on, cream on, goggles on, here we go. Well, nearly. First Holly has to get out all the chairs and line them up by the pool for her toys to watch us. And it's fun. For 20 minutes, then we get cold and come out.

And the whinging starts. I'm cold, I want an ice pop, I need to get dressed, I'm hungry. Wrap them up, sit them down with an ice pop, gather up toys and floats and goggles, pop some chlorine in, put the net back on.

Now let's see if we can have a whinge free shower before dinner...

And that just about takes all today's patience resources. Unless I get a reasonable night's sleep, there will be even less available tomorrow. Beware anyone who tries my patience. I have only enough for the children. I need to keep it for them, otherwise I will not be able to cope. I will disintegrate into a shouting, stomping mummy monster.

Tolerance. Slightly different. I find myself fiercely protective of my children and therefore intolerant of behaviour of others that affects them negatively, and yet I expect tolerance of their behaviour. After all, they are only little. My needs have also changed. In the car park, if I can get a spot close to the shops, I take it greedily. A shorter walk with two in tow amongst the cars, relieves a little stress. So, if anyone takes my spot, I curse (quietly of course). I never used to. C'est ls vie, I'd think, in a previous life, what's a few hundred yards matter? Now it matters.

Yet I expect tolerance. My child might run around like a mad thing, nearly knocking people over, but she's little, she's not doing any real harm. So, she's noisy, she has tantrums in public, she whines, she whinges, she dances, she chases her brother and has no sense of those around her. We went in a baby shop the other day to choose a present, and Holly could not resist looking (closely) at the toys on display. The owner seemed unhappy that she touched things, and I didn't like that. If you own a kids shop, you have to expect kids. Provide some toys they are allowed to play with and maybe you'll sell more.

Combine the two; patience and tolerance, and a lack of both, and even the cat suffers. This creature, who was my baby well before my other babies arrived, now annoys me enormously. He miaows loudly in the middle of the night and will try and bang the door down to get attention. I need my sleep; I feed him, a lot, and eventually resort to shutting him in the laundry. Instead of wanting him on my lap, I want freedom. I've had two little people clinging to me all day, I now need some space. Anyone want a cat, who probably just needs a bit of love and attention?