Sometimes I have moments of motherly awesomeness when I feel like I have almost everything together; Ukulele Baby is behaving and eating whatever I’ve cooked him, he finds enjoyment from playing with his toys or reading his books, the house doesn’t look like a plane loaded with a Toys R Us delivery crashed into it, the kitchen sink doesn’t look like a science experiment gone wrong. Those moments are so rare I could count them with one hand. Hell I could count them with one finger.
This morning was not one of those moments.
This morning I was three seconds away from imploding. I felt like all my sanity was seeping out of my skin. For every second that my son was clinging onto my legs and crying hot, tantrum-y tears, I felt more and more like this guy:
Before I go on, I just want to say that the morning started out ok. We all slept in until 9:30am (win!) and Ukulele Baby had a pretty good appetite for breakfast (banana, pancakes with jam, cereal). He sat at the table feeding himself while I busied myself preparing breakfast and washing up yesterday’s dishes. But the moment my husband and I sat down for breakfast (a steamy bowl of rich champorado), it all started to unravel. Ukulele Baby was not the least bit interested in playing with his toys or sitting in my lap. All he seemed to want was to cling as tightly onto my pajama pants as his little hands could and cry as loudly as his little lungs would allow.
I tried to ignore it (that technique worked yesterday). I managed to eat my whole breakfast while the little screamer alerted all the neighbours of his misery and wet my pants with his flood of angry tears. He paused every now and again – long enough to even have a drink of water – but it didn’t stop for a good ten minutes. That might not sound like much but when a child is screaming endlessly those minutes feel like days. Eventually he was quiet for long enough for me to offer him a choice of going upstairs for a nap or going to the living room to play. He pointed to the living room.
We walked into the living room. Where he started another tantrum.
We figured out he wanted to watch The Wiggles on TV, which his dad reluctantly put on. He quietened down and danced (ie wobbled, shook head, clapped hands) to five songs and I decided he was calm enough for me to go to the toilet. I was wrong. I heard sobbing the minute I sat on the toilet seat. The sobbing escalated to an angry, ‘WHY DID YOU EVER LEAVE ME??!!!!’ when I returned.
I carried Ukulele Baby back to the kitchen and told him firmly I was going to put him down so I could have a drink. I put him down. He thought about what I’d just done and started screaming instantaneously. I tried to walk away. He tried to follow me and face-planted on the tiles. More screaming, more tears.
*Deep breath.*
My husband walked in to the kitchen to survey the situation: Ukulele Baby Angry Little Man is sobbing and clinging onto his Mama’s leg. Mama is holding onto the kitchen table ready to overturn and throw it at the wall (fat chance of that happening, it weighs >20kg). Like a knight he sweeps up the Angry Little Man and takes him into the backyard for distraction. I pick up my (now cold) coffee and proceed to our bedroom so I can crawl into my writing corner (ie the little space between our bed and tallboy), turn on the heater full blast and chuck my own tantrum write a blog post.
Sow now we are here.
It’s been 15 minutes and the house is quiet. I think I can hear my husband washing the dishes (bless him), and I can’t hear a peep from the Angry Little Man. I’m actually too scared to walk out of this room for fear of triggering another tantrum. I have no idea what it is that causes them. He could be sick, he could be tired, he could be going through another developmental growth spurt, he could be teething; God only knows.
Funnily enough yesterday I finished reading the section on Temper Tantrums in The Mighty Toddler by Robin Barker. Not so funnily enough I forgot every pointer she wrote in that section, and unfortunately it sounds like we’re at the very beginning of the the tantrum-throwing stage of my dear son’s development. *sigh*
I feel like an idiot for wanting to hide (but that’s exactly what I’m doing), but surely I’m not the only mother who does this? At least today I actually had the opportunity to hide because my husband was home and could pry the Angry Little Man’s hands from my legs and carry him away. On days when the Angry Little Man and I are home alone I’m not so fortunate. So right now I’m going to milk this opportunity and finish my cold coffee.