It occurs to me that in the past 13 months I have learned to be more patient.

For example, the second week of August my neighbor was having trees removed. As I was leaving one morning to take kids to school I ran over what I thought was a small limb and it popped up, tore my front bumper and shattered the fog light on my van. I finally got around to calling my favorite body shop to see if they reopened after Katrina, (they are in an area that flooded badly). They are open, but the first available openings are in January. I just calmly asked to be put on the list.

I have three dripping faucets and a tub drain that is not draining right. Two weeks ago I called to schedule a plumber visit to my house. Friday I called again to see if I was still on the list. The receptionist tells me that it will probably be two more weeks because one of their workers is out with an injury. Again, I calmly asked to them to keep my name on the list.

My son has a broken window pane in his bedroom. The glass people tell me that they have a three month backlog of work. Fine, my name is on that list too. (I am going to look up how to fix a window pane and see if I can do that one myself.)

I have bare plywood on my garage that is part of the repairs from the huge pine that hit the garage during Katrina. So far, I have been on the painters waiting list for six months. Today I told husband that he needed to pencil in painting the house for the weekends in November.

Not only are workmen overbooked, but my time to fix things is limited. What choice do we have than to learn some patience?

Now if I can just apply those lessons to my parenting.