Deep thoughts over the campfire about patience and marshmallows

Tonight I did something I never do. I roasted the perfect marshmallow. Hard? Nope, not at all. Just takes a little patience. Normally, I simply dip my mallows in the fire and let 'em burn. Blow out the fire and enjoy the blackened sugary yumminess. It takes about 20 seconds.
Wouldn't I prefer the perfectly browned slowly roasted kind? Absolutely! Why don't I make them? Patience. Yeah, I lack that.
I'm the type who wants to move on the second something is done, figured out, planned, or whatever. If that's in the middle of your sentence, yeah, I might end it there. I get it, so why bother finishing the conversation? I know, it's not a good trait. I'm stuck with lucky to have a husband who mostly nicely puts up with it, and points it out when needed. I've been working hard on it lately. It's uphill.
Our kids have some pretty big issues (from trauma that sometimes adoptees experience and that you'll never read about on this blog, it's a happy blog, sorry) and the main thing they need from me? Yep, patience. Anything else would be easy for me, scheduling, structure, corrective shoes, driving to specialists, a kidney, I'm there. But no, they need patience. All. The. Time. Patience. Again, I lack that. But I'm trying.
So back to the marshmallow. I took 2 mallows out and purposefully decided to slowly roast 1 to perfection and I did it! While that's no biggie for you, it's huge for me! It was hard, very hard. It was also yummy, and very worth it. All of which I contemplated, and applied to my relationships and parenting, as I quickly scorched an ate the second one. That's okay, see? I got the point after the first one. I would have taken a picture, but um, well, I didn't have the patience.