I’m Patient but I’ve Never Been This Patient…Am I Crazy?

I’ve always been a patient person — it drives people crazy sometimes. Other people seem to appreciate the patience I’ve mastered over the years. Well today, I found myself thinking about all the things my son has gotten into and all the times he had uncontrollable crying and realized that I’m more patient than I’ve ever been. Parenting has made me a true master of patience. The thing is, I think I’m crazy. I feel like I’m one can short of a six-pack; my elevator doesn’t go to the top floor; I have a few screws loose…something.

My son, he spits, he kicks, he throws things, he cries, he gets irritable, he’s a drama king on occasion but I take it in stride. I smile at him, console him, I kiss and hug him, talk to him, and play with him. Not once have I lashed out at him or got frustrated with him in the 8 months and 1 week he’s been on this planet. The restless nights, the early mornings, the constant need for attention would have anyone wanting to trade places with a meteor out in space or something. He says “mama” day in and day out; people would look at me and hear him say “mama” all the time and would assume I wished my name was dog already.

I love his stubbornness — to go after the things he want, I love his company, I miss him dearly when he falls asleep but wish he would stay asleep longer when he takes a nap, I don’t mind his drool, or his need to dig his gums into the side of my face every chance he gets. Everything about my son I love — I couldn’t be happier. Does that make me crazy?

I don’t understand where it’s coming from. I only get 4 hours a sleep at night (he wakes me up at the crack of dawn every morning), I barely eat during the day, with little to no energy, how am I able to pick my son up and play with him until 8-9 o’clock at night? What’s driving and keeping me sane? What’s making me not want to trade huge monstrous dirty diapers for anything in the world?

I don’t want to believe it but I truly think I’m crazy. You know what though? That’s fine if I am. Because guess what?

If loving my son is crazy then I don’t want to be sane.

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