You know how in video games the guys have little meters that indicate how much life they have? Imagine I have a little meter like that above my head and it indicates the amount if patience I have. Tonight after Jude raged for about 30 minutes, straight, my patience meter was at rock bottom, flashing for danger. I literally had to just go zen for a moment. As you can see, Lindsay wasn't faring much better. But like a good team of parents, she rallied when I couldn't and somehow, finally, he was in bed. The best method I know of for replacing the patience meter? A big glass of wine!
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