Patience is a Virtue

A virtue that I absolutely do not practice or exhibit on a regular basis well...at all.

It all hit me like a ton of Jaigermeister this morning.  NO, NO, NO.  I haven't been drinking.  Just dreaming about it.  But you know how you do one shot of Jaiger, and you're feeling pretty darn good?  But  then 3 additional shots later, it seems like maybe that wasn't so well thought out?

Okay, so now that you're following me again, (alcoholics in da house...woop, woop). 

So I'm standing in the middle of the crosswalk near my home, using my keen mommy vision to look both ways.  I am waiting to assure my girls, who are on their bikes, that it is indeed, safe to cross.  Ginormously pregnant, weighing close to 200 bones...hard to miss, right?

You know what happened?  Some Yahoo whizzes by me at about 45 mph.  Right next to a PARK.  Across the street from a SCHOOL.  With a big ol' prego in the MIDDLE of the street.  If I'd have given my girls the "okay" to cross just 10 seconds earlier, this A-hole would have successfully taken out a family of 6.

And FOR WHAT?  Because he's late for work?  For an appointment?  For Driving School?  It left me thinking, what is the big f'ing rush?  All he had to do was...gasp...stop for a moment, and allow us to cross safely.  He wasn't wearing his patience panties.

But then I had a realization:  this is ME all too often.  I struggle with this very attribute myself.  I want patience, and I want it RIGHT NOW, God Dammit.

When I get stuck driving behind Pokey McPokerson going 15 mph is a 40 mph zone, my sphincter automatically tightens up to the size of a raisin.  It is then I feel entitled to refer to this driver, as "Grandma" or "Gramps" - even is they're in their mid 30's.  And that's with the girls IN the car.  You wouldn't want to know what pours out of my foul mouth when I'm solo.

When I used to run Willow Glen with my triple jogging stroller, onlookers on Lincoln Avenue would see me coming.  And then continue to stand smack dab in the the middle of the sidewalk, gawking.  I'm not sure if they were processing the Circus Act moving towards them, or WHAT.  But I would have a good clip going, and have to stop...my triple jogging stroller, which had 3 kids, and was carrying over 100 pounds.  Imagine running with a Costco cart full of BEER, while a clueless, snack-seeking Yahoo darts in front of you.  I mean, it would take all of your strength to stop, and NOT plow them over.  And what's left of your strength to get going again. 

After doing this about 5 times in downtown, I was forced to make a decision:  these people better move their asses, or I would simply run them over.

Hmmmm...but then, that's the same philosophy as the A-hole who almost took me out this morning, huh?

At my 36 week doctor appointment, my OB delivered some devastating news, "Michelle, the baby is down low....BUT your cervix is closed up tight."  I wanted to scream at her, "Dr.C, throw me a bone here.  Tell me I'm at a Cheerio, give me hope!  'Cause I'm DONE growing this human, and I'm really ready to rock a beer buzz."

So, when I went in this last time, at 38 weeks along, I pretended that I wasn't even pregnant as she preformed a pelvic exam.  "Oh, looks like you're 2-3 cm dilated."  What?!!!  REALLY?!!!  I tried not to get too excited, but it felt like perhaps, I would totally luck out, and birth the baby right then and there.  How convenient!

Suddenly I was overcome with AMNESIA...forgetting that all of my previous children had rented my womb up until the bitter end.  Case in point, I was induced at 40 weeks with the twins...that's the kind of crazy you see on the Discovery Channel, okay? 

But here I sat, my feet propped up in the stir-ups, thinking, imagining, hoping,  that this time it would be different.  TWO less weeks of cankles.  A release from waddle-filled walking.  Closer to my destination of drinking 4 beers in a row.  The possibilities were endless.

And here I sit, one week later, still pregnant.  A dear friend said, "Michelle, this just #5 already telling you exactly who's in charge."  Ain't that the truth?

You see, I'm a hard head.  I like to think that I am in control. (Insert laughing from God here).  But I am constantly reminded that I'm not in control of anything, at anytime, at all.  It's frustrating and humbling all at the same time.  And it's only when I take a big sigh, and let go of it all, that things play out just the way they are supposed to.

So I'm sighing, now #5.  Did you hear that?  You can vacate my uterus ANYtime now.  We're ready for you.  I really, really, really want to meet you.  I want to see you.  Hold you.  And most importantly love you all up.

What's that you say?  It's up to you when you will be joining us?  Oh, that's right.  The best things are worth the wait, little one.  I get it.  Come on out when you're ready.