Well, don’t let me get carried away with that title. I’m still an impatient woman, quick to anger. Especially with the boy/man in my life. But things have shifted.

When my husband first left to work out of state, everything Max did was too slow for my tastes. I got sick of hearing myself say Hurry up! yet couldn’t help myself.

These days I say it less (well, a little less). But I do have more patience. I am more likely to enjoy a moment than to see it as standing in the way of my happiness.

Every phase Max goes throug feels endless. The I’m-kinda-interested-in-potty-training-but-don’t-really-care-to-go-in-the-potty-every-time phase and the let’s-wake-Mama-and-Papa-up-4x-a-night phases seemed like they would last forever. But they were replaced by other phases; some better, some worse. The Max-and-Mama-butt-heads-because-they’re-just-alike phase appears to be dwindling (but don’t hold your breath).

Maybe I’ve just learned how to deal with being the only parent around for now. Maybe he’s cutting me some slack. Whatever the reason, I’m glad we’re getting along.

Still, Papa, hurry and come home.