Patience, My Love

Xiao Mei cried when I lifted her out of her crib this morning. That was my first indication of the day to come--she usually greets me with a smile. I assume she is teething, but I don’t really know the cause of her discomfort. She has been whiny and clingy. She screams if I leave her alone for too long.

By 11 am, my to-do list eroded down from things I wanted to accomplish to things I must accomplish. The more rushed I felt, the louder XM screamed.

Mercy, child.

By 4 pm, the living room looked like a tornado hit, documents and client files buried the table, and XM clung to my ankle, crying, as I prepared dinner. My temperature was rising faster than the preheating oven, and thunder pounded inside my head.

I surrendered.

I picked up my darling girl and cuddled her on the couch. For ten minutes . . . thirty minutes . . . an hour. As I released my expectations for the rest of the day, I heard a stretching, creaking sound. It was the sound of my capacity for patience expanding. Like tectonic plates, slowly shifting and moving, it was transforming an individual into a mother.

Tomorrow I will do better.