Patience

I am not a patient person. I do not humor people well. It is just the way I was made. I have had to learn coping strategies for the little ladies. Small children need patient parents. My husband was made with a double helping of patience which has always served him well. Thus, while I am counting to ten, taking deep breaths and walking out of the room for a minute; he is shrugging his shoulders and hugging the offending lady. I am grateful that he is my foil in this regard. He is a good example to me and I am learning to be more like him, in this regard, every day. However, I find it exhausting. It totally wears me out.

Today I am going to visit my grandmother at the hospital. She had a knee replacement on Monday. My grandmother has always been very good to my sister and I. There is no one she adores more than the little ladies. When in their presence I can see glimpses of what she was like 25 years ago with my sister and I. It warms the heart. However, she is a massive hypochondriac. She loves to ply anyone who will listen with tales of her aches, pains, and diseases (real or imagined). I am dreading this visit. It is going to take every ounce of patience I have ever cultivated not to tell her to buck up. On top of that I will have two little ladies running amok in a hospital. With no help. Fantastic. So, this morning I am going to exercise, in hopes it will put me in the proper frame of mind to channel my sweet husband. I am going to go into this situation expecting mayhem and hopefully I will be pleasantly surprised. If it ends up being as bad as I fear, I will come home ASAP. I will put the little ladies down for their naps, and I will open a bottle of wine. Or take a nap. Or both.