I never realized that I have a temper until I became a mother.
Sure, people bothered me. I’d been in arguments and even a few physical altercations, but even then I never truly lost my shit. Then I had children, and my dormant crazy bitch came bubbling to the surface.
It always catches me off-guard how quickly I go from zero to pissed off over seemingly minor infractions. It’s just that when I am in a state of perpetual exhaustion, small things are actually really big things. I don’t want to get mad at my child for splashing toothpaste water all over the bathroom mirror for the hundredth time after I reminded him repeatedly not to. I want to channel my inner Gandhi and remain calm. The problem is, I literally just finished cleaning up a mess in the other room, I am 12 hours into my day, and a toddler is clinging to my leg. I’m fresh out of calm. Did Gandhi ever have to potty train another human being? I would guess no, which explains his level of Zen.
Knowing that I’m always running on a short fuse means that I have to cut everyone around me some slack, myself included.