Category: tantrums

mommyhood, tantrums

Whatever

WFAM

The boys woke up in good moods. This always helps on a Monday. I corralled them into our bathroom, grabbed their clothes and started to help little T.Puzzle undo the snap and zipper of his pjs.

“No!” he screams. “I do it myself!”

Soon he realizes he doesn’t have the dexterity to open the closure.

“I need help!” he recants.

I reach for the flap of fabric, pop it open and start to unzip him.

“No! I do it myself!”

Whatever.

T.Puzzle also got angry at me at breakfast. I attempted to pull apart his mini waffles, like I do every morning, and he couldn’t believe I would have the audacity to do so.

Whatvever.

A three year old is a lot like a moody, teenage girl. How do I know this? I used to be one. Payback is, well, you know…

That is until he takes two of his mini waffles and fashions them into a toilet seat. I can honestly say, I have never done that. Not once in my former teenaged life or in my current situation.

At least I found it mildly humorous. Of course, I didn’t let little T.Puzzle know that. He would have somehow managed to use this information against me.

children, mommyhood, tantrums

The Messy End

WFAM

Full Speed and I were in the middle of a serious debate at breakfast. “If your mind tells your body what to do (he learned this in Tae Kwon Do as the definition of self-control), then what tells your mind what to do?”

“Well, your mind knows what’s in your heart and that’s how it knows what to do,” says me.

I could tell the heart concept was not falling in his realm of understanding. I could sense a complicated course of reasoning about to happen.

Full Speed looks at me a little blankly and says, “Maybe my ears tell my mind what to do.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly, Full Speed. Your ears tell your mind which tells your body what to do,” I ramble out hoping this ends the debate. Thankfully, he is happy with this explanation and we move on with our day.

Mad Dog takes Full Speed to school while T.Puzzle and I are left behind. The window on my truck busted yesterday and I now have to wait for the service center to call me and send over a shuttle to pick me up.

I decide to take advantage of my time at home and delve into the first chore on my to-do list. I have a basket full of dirty laundry hooked under one arm and a gaggle of hangers in the other. T.Puzzle is on my heels as I head to the stairs to make my way down to the laundry room.

“Hold my hand!” he demands.

“I can’t right now, Mommy’s hands are full,” I reply.

Well, he is having none of that. He melts down into a level seven tantrum that lasts over twenty minutes (I timed it). I decide the best thing to do is to ignore it. At about eighteen minutes in I contemplate talking to him and giving him some choices between stopping crying and watching a show of his choice, or sending him to his room if the crying continues. I decide that talking to him may only increase the tantrum’s intensity and opt to continue to ignore him.

I’m glad I waited it out even if my nerves were frayed to the edge of snapping. He stops. There’s no particular reason why. He placidly comes down the stairs and looks up at me with sad, sad eyes.

“I pooped,” he says.

“Of course you did,” I say.

How is it that even if you can get your tantrum-prone child to finally calm down, that you still find yourself up to your elbows in poop?

bad day, children, mommyhood, tantrums

6:00 Sharp

WFAM

Since I have been slacking in many areas with the boys because I have been sick; I wanted to get back in the swing of things by preparing an actual meal for the boys. They have had so much processed, fast food lately I’m worried that they may turn into chicken nuggets.

Full Speed determined he ‘didn’t like’ the main course of pasta, peas and turkey sausage and proceeded to fight me tooth and nail about ingesting it. Little T.Puzzle decided he didn’t want raisins (I know you are impressed by this gourmet side dish). Not only was he passionately against eating the raisins, he didn’t even want them touching his plate and screamed and cried because I ignored his tearful requests (trust me, the kid’s had raisins before AND lived). Then he decided he didn’t want the beverage I chose for him. He was in and out of time-out like a revolving office door on a busy day.

After several threats, Full Speed got his act together (a little bit) but T.Puzzle spiraled deeper into his abyss of contempt. He was mad that Grandpa was sitting in ‘his chair’ in the living room. I told him to get over himself. Grandpa offered to move but I drew the line. T.Puzzle was simply not going to get his way.

Since time-outs in the dining room corner were not making a dent in his hysteria, I changed tactics and moved him upstairs to his room. He was already at a level 10 and spewing snot like a fountain. I had to sit on the other side of his door to keep it shut. He was beside himself.

After ten very long and tense moments, he calms himself enough that I can engage him in conversation. “If you stop crying and pull it together, you can come downstairs. You need to apologize to Mom first,” I say.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he bleats over and over.

He’s reasonable enough now that I think I can take him downstairs. No sooner than we cross the threshold of the living room than the level 10 tantrum commences. I call ‘uncle.’

It’s 6:00 sharp do you know where your kids are? I know one of mine is smack-dab in the middle of his bed and won’t be seen until morning.

children, mommyhood, tantrums

Make It or Break It

WFAM

We decide to go out to eat. My Dad is in town visiting and he requested a meal of fish. We had an overall successful family outing to Tae Kwon Do so Mad Dog and I felt confident the boys could handle a longer drive to go to a slightly (very slightly) upscale fish market for lunch.

We arrive and everything is going somewhat smoothly. We are seated waiting to order and Full Speed is playing with some hot-wheels cars while little T.Puzzle is coloring.  The boys are full of motion but are being quiet and entertaining themselves. I am taking this moment to attempt to read the menu. My Dad says, “Is he supposed to be coloring on that?”

I look up and see that little T.Puzzle is coloring all over the white linen tablecloth.

“You color on the paper, NOT on the tablecloth!” I say emphasizing my point by dramatically gesturing where and where not he can color.

He looks me squarely in the eye and without dropping a beat, colors on the tablecloth. Now, the waitress is at our table waiting for our order. She sees me lean in and threaten T.Puzzle with edgy vehemence. I realize that I must come across as a scary, intimidating Mom but I power forward. The waitress doesn’t know of T.Puzzle’s recent, defiant behavior and I can’t let the judgment of the world stop my discipline.

Once the order is complete, T.Puzzle again starts in with the tablecloth coloring. I hastily grab his crayons, toss them on the table and yank the kid out of the booth. I tell him he is heading to time-out. As I walk toward the front I grab his legs and heave him up in a disobedient ball. He is yelling and kicking and all the other fine diners are looking at us like he is a complete psychopath. I get him to the front and realize in my haste I left his coat and hat at the table. Normally, in Florida you can bypass the coat and hat but we are in a cold snap. It’s thirty degrees and overcast. He’s been sick so much I realize I’m stuck inside for the duration for what I am certain is going to be a doozy of a tantrum (it reached a level 8). People from the bar were peering at his ruckus, the hostess was politely trying not to make direct eye contact with me and I wanted to throw a tantrum of my own (I was thinking only a level 3 or 4).

Is it just me or am I the only Mom in the throes of a massive power struggle with her child? Full Speed started in on me when he was a year and a half.  T.Puzzle has since picked up the slack when Full Speed finally began to fight me a little bit less. I know my time is coming that every day and every situation won’t be a knock-down, drag-out battle of the wills.

I don’t think I will make it.