Waiting

Two years for a missionary.
Nine months for each baby.
The endless stretch of time from four to six each afternoon.
Waiting for Annie to dress herself.
Waiting for Bryce to finish his juice.
Waiting for Isaac to walk confidently across the room.
The laundry load to finish, the baby to fall asleep, the baby to wake up, the earache to subside, the toast to pop up, the two-week wait, the little girl's bangs to grow back in, the kindergartener to come home from school, the house to sell, the car to be fixed, the money to come in-- all in every mother's job.
Fast food is no longer about eating on the run, but allowing kids to savor every fat-filled bite.
I've earned my patience, inching along.
But I still cannot tolerate waiting for the cable guy.
-originally published 1/06