Before I was a parent I was both a less patient person and a more patient person. I was less patient with things not being the way I wanted them or had imagined them to be. I was more patient with other people. I’m not sure what happened but pretty much as soon as I brought The Viking Princess, my daughter, home from the hospital I stopped having ANY tolerance for other people’s bullshit.
I think there’s something in the urgency of daily needs when you have kids that allows no time for the decadence/narcissism/martyrdom of anyone else. I just don’t care. I never really did actually but I was able to at least be polite about it. Now not as much.
Maybe it’s an evolutionary adaptation. You need to be able to withstand some pretty gnarly manipulation by your kids so they don’t grow up to be assholes. I can spot instantly when someone is trying to manipulate me, guilt me, or coerce me. In kids it’s part of learning how to deal with other people. In adults it’s embarrassing.
Its actually pretty awesome. Having a family makes you think about and wrestle everyday with what is actually important and necessary. It releases you from caring about stupid things. It excuses you from giving a shit about reality tv, or your acquaintances lame Facebook posts, or what everyone else is doing. It galvanizes what you believe and how you wanna live because you have to impart that to someone else now.
And you know what? Not giving a rats ass about anyone else and being committed to your vision is what rock and roll is, in its very essence.