I am not a nice person since I became a parent. It maybe has something to do with being constantly under-slept and edgy from too much caffeine and not enough time spent lazing around doing nothing.
I swear I was a nice person at some point in the past, but now I am about as nice as that asshole who seems to derive actual joy from kicking the back of your chair in the cinema. My theory goes that now I spend so much time taking crap from my son that I have lost virtually all tolerance for taking crap from other people.
Life always came with a side-helping of bullsh*t, it’s a fact that we, adults, have to come to terms with and tolerate. However bringing forth a new life seems to have eroded whatever patience I once possessed.
10 signs my bullsh*t tolerance has disappeared since having a baby
1. Fighting with Friends
I have taken to fighting with friends over the pettiest things imaginable. Literally stuff like “you didn’t text me back”. I used to be a low-maintenance friend, the easy-going one, but now I have all these extra hours when I up in the middle of the night nursing these grudges.
2. Shouting at Strangers
I used to be pretty non-confrontational, but now I find myself going off on crazy tirades at the slightest provocation. Example: A woman helpfully pointed out that I was accidentally hitting my son with my backpack while cycling through the park. My response: All-out rage, “I’m doing the BEST I CAN HERE,” I shrieked before frantically pedalling home to hide.
3. Ignoring Codes of Decency
‘Out clothes’ are uncomfortable, and as soon as it is remotely acceptable I take them off, same goes for bras if I have even bothered to put it on that day. Pyjama O’Clock is now Whenever O’Clock.
4. Wine O’Clock is No Longer Set in Stone
Wine O’Clock used to be from 7 pm, 6 pm at a push. Now I go by the 24-hour clock, and the rule is once the hour is in double digits, it’s Wine O’Clock. So come noon basically.
5. I have given up listening to voicemails
I just don’t have the time for that bullsh*t anymore. Who is still leaving voicemails in this day and age? There are so many platforms of communication available that don’t involve me listening to your pocket for five minutes after you think you’ve hung up.
6. I try to avoid talking to people who are too nice (or do yoga)
I think I’m just too jaded for nice people at this point and all the namaste-ing and designer yoga pants just seem to goad me in my worn out, vom-in-my-hair, braless, caffeine hungry state. Their excessive (as I see it) niceness makes me feel bad about myself and also a bit suspicious… can anyone really be that nice? C’MON be real with me, you hate yogalates, right?
7. Road Rage
A new facet of the no tolerance for bullsh*t is a belief that rules of the road don’t really apply to me. If I can’t see a really could reason for NOT making that illegal right-hand turn then Imma gonna do it, that’s all. Same goes for illegal parking and giving the finger willy-nilly to other drivers, pedestrians and cyclists. I may need a holiday.
8. Queue Rage
Queues are a pretty difficult element of life to out and out give up on, one kind of has to accept that they are a necessary part of preserving order in our society. HOWEVER, I can no longer tolerate aggressive queuers, you know those people who queue too close behind you in the line. They are literally moistening the back of your neck with their breath. Before, I would do my best to ignore them. Now I am liable to turn around and confront them about it which can be confusing for them – aggressive queuers tend to not know that they’re are doing it. So when I turn and scream, “Give me some room DAMMIT, I have a child here,” they usually look perplexed. I don’t know why The Child even comes into it; it just seems to lend some credence to my wild rants. It feels good to let it out though.
9. Eye Rolling
This pretty childish response to bullsh*t things that irk me wouldn’t be so bad except that I’ve taken to eye-rolling AT people. When a restaurant wouldn’t accept a voucher that was a couple of days out of date I eye-rolled at the manager. It feels great.
10. I’ve told The Man to stop breathing so loudly
If that isn’t a clear indicator of where my bullsh*t tolerance is at, I don’t know what is.
