I used to think that tantrums were predictable. You put together a forecast, identifying variables such as last night’s sleep, today’s activities, sugar intake and the level of attention I’ve given to Malcolm to gauge whether a storm’s a-brewing. Like the TV meteorologist, I wasn’t correct 100% of the time, but it’s not like I said it was going to be sunny, and then it monsooned. I used to believe I could tell when the tantrums were likely to happen and when I was safe.
Now, I can’t. We had a great day on thursday: I picked up Malcolm from school, we played the board game Life. We played basketball outside, and I even let him win. We acted goofy in the house. Then before dinner, it hit. I told Malcolm he needed to help clean up the board game before dinner and he flew into a fit of rage. He yelled, screamed, attempted to hit me, kick me and even tried spitting on me. (I found the spitting part kind of comical though, as he doesn’t yet know the fine art of spitting and ended up making exaggerated “F” sounds to the point where gobs of foamy spit dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin.) I haven’t been mistreated so badly since I told Amy that the Gilmore Girls was cancelled. It was bleak.
After spending time in the penalty box (currently his room while we finish renovations of the underground dungeon we’ll be using in the future) he came back out and was chipper as can be. He said he was sorry, and was quite caring and affectionate. Hurricane Malcolm had hit with jaw dropping intensity, but now had subsided, leaving sunny skies. What the fuck just happened? First I can’t tell that he is about to have a tantrum, and now I can’t even tell that he just had one. Why does parenting always make you scratch your head?
Mood swings? Me? No way!!
I am now confused and wander around the house like a crazy cat lady, mumbling to myself and wondering what new unforeseen danger lurks behind each corner. I know the beast lurks just below the surface, waiting to make itself known at a moment’s notice. I’ll tell you what though, knowing that a hurricane lies just of the coast sure makes you appreciate the sunny skies you got now.
Tags: tantrums
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Great – despite all your comedy you appear to be doing a good job of parenting and I am pleased it doesn’t go all your way. Why should you have an easier time that any of us?
Back to my one (and only) child, her tantrums were monumental, and we did have warning, if she was awake you knew one was coming. The worst one was probably on a train going to the coast when she was about 4 (great age for tantrums). Her father and I were sat happily on the train and we pulled into a station, as the automatic doors opened she rushed to escape, I ran after her, (this is 17 years ago I had more energy then), and dragged her back into the train. She screamed, kicked her feet and flung herself around the floor of the train. At the next stop it was repeated. At the third stop I managed to hold her back, only to see her dad calmly get up, get off the train and rejoin it in the next carriage. I was furious, and at the next stop, grabbed the child by the straps of her dungarees and drag her off and on the train to confront him. ‘Why?’ I asked, and he simply said ‘Why should two of us be embarrassed?’.
Enjoy the tantrums, how you deal with them are the measure of your parenting.
Great story! I can’t wait til we got that dungeon all fixed up. Then he can tantrum all he wants…
The Gilmore Girls was canceled?? Oh, when you get home, Mr. Schwartz!!
Remember who got you those Gilmore Girls DVD’s? I did. That was me. Please don’t hurt me!!!
I left a message on Facebook about the use of F-bombs in your blog and in particular the headline. It was meant as a constructive comment, not as a negative criticism of your writing. If I am out of line, let me know. I have never responded to anyone’s blog before other than Laurie’s so I guess I am not sure of the protocol to follow. If no one else has commented on the use of “locker room or golfers four letter words” in a public writing that friends and family are invited and encouraged to read then perhaps I am a “Lone Ranger” here. Could be a generational point of view, I guess. Best regards, Stu
No worries Stu! Any comment (good or bad) is always welcomed.
I get a lot of people complaining about that. A friend of mine sent out the blog to her friends, and one friend called me the anti-christ for all the swearing in the blog. I’m used to it. I occasionally swear gratuitously, but most of the time, I use profanity to express my extreme exasperation of some aspects of the job. SInce I try to keep things pretty real, I swear here when I feel like swearing in real life. Obviously, I can’t ask Malcolm what the fuck just happened, so I burden you all with it. I wish I could promise that this blog would be 100% shit free, but I’d be lying.
If it helps at all, imagine each swear word as a time while taking care of Malcolm where I remained calm despite the fact that I wanted to take Malcolm to the woodshed…
There are far worse things for people to get their knickers in a bunch over, than some profanity. Especially when you’re reading the writings of a parent – they could be teaching their kid to be racist or something, which could actually be detrimental to a child’s development and well being.
I do not remember any of our kids ever having tantrums so I can’t help there but there is a quote I like from Mark Twain about swearing, “Under certain circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.”
How bout this one: The idea that no gentleman ever swears is all wrong. He can swear and still be a gentleman if he does it in a nice and benevolent and affectionate way. – Twain.
Hahahahaha! Is this what o have to look forward to?! Mine just turned two and the meltdowns are still mild and minimal. Oh, boy.
PS, I love me some F-bombs. Use them gratuitously myself, probably far more than you do.
Can’t say that you should look forward to them, but they probably are gonna happen. Unless you’re Amy’s Uncle Stu. His kids sat quietly with their hands folded in their laps. Ha!
Hi Paul – “Tears and Tantrums” is a great book that helped us with spitting mad tantrums from the Bun. The premise is crying is good for humans (releases cortisol, those who cry are healthier from a physical and mental perspective etc. – it’s all in the book) so why not just let the kid cry it out while you sit there. I’d take the Bun’s hand and say – you seem really mad. And she’d switch from tantrum to crying and then settle down pretty quick. Even if I was the cause of her anger this was helpful. Basically it’s bottled up stress. And even though you may have thought you had a great day with M he may have had stress you didn’t see. Check it out if you have a chance or I can tell you more too.
Great ideas Michelle! Most of the time, Malcolm screams, “Don’t talk to me anymore!” During the screamfest. We’ll keep trying though.
I’m not at all concerned about Malcolm’s meltdowns. Glad I’m not you! But what I’m really worried about is — can I swear in front of your kid? The stress is causing me to break out in all the wrong places.
Of course you can swear, you just have to promise that when he uses the word “fuckies” you won’t laugh. (I’ll just give you a little hint, you’ll laugh, no matter how hard you try not to.)
Paul, 4 is a hard age for the tantrums and Zach will be 5 in two days!!! I am assuming that on Wednesday all tantrums will stop and life will become a lot easier. He throws fits over toothpaste, toys, food, showering and anything else you can think of. The past year we have been walking on eggshells with him not knowing what will trigger the outburst. Good luck to you, nothing we have done has worked. But, like I said, it will be over Wednesday………….Right?
Let me know how it goes. I’d love to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Thank god me daughter is 13 (that’s another story), from age 3 to 6 she had atleast 3 melt downs a week!! At 3 I could carry her out of the mall kicking and screaming! At 5 & 6 she was too big for me to carry. So we stayed home alot. I found that if I ignored her and walk away she would stop. She would relized that she wasn’t the focus of my the attention anymore. Goodluck with Malcolm!
I’m in favor of any parenting technique that involves ignoring my kid. Will do!
Nanci, I would like to say yes, it stops at 5, but Lisa has proved it doesn’t. What I can say is my daughter is now my best friend, and we understand each other, so all that time locked up away from the outside world (like Lisa we didn’t go out much), was worth it.
In my daughter’s case (and I can’t give her a name, people google you know), it was shortly after full time school plus the onset of daily activities like trampoline and swimming that she stopped. Either she grew out of tantrums or she was simply exhausted.
Exhaustion is a good plan!
Does that mean we can get a trampoline?
Oh, where to start.
–”despite all your comedy you appear to be doing a good job of parenting”
What The F$%^????
DESPITE?!?!?!
a) it’s BECAUSE of the comedy that Paul even has a wife. If Malcolm manages to make it to 18 only mildly damaged, we can all thank Paul’s sense of humor.
–”Any comment (good or bad) is always welcomed.”
Any pub is good pub. It’s ALL about the benjamins people.
–”I do not remember any of our kids ever having tantrums”
There are several possible explanations to this.
a) the fine commenter was in a coma for a decade
b) or heavily medicated
c) currently has Alzheimer’s
d) this person doesn’t actually have any children. Probably calls the cats “our babies”
–”one friend called me the anti-christ”
If that’s the worst thing he’s called all day then it’s a damn fine day.
Wow Brad, I’d reply to each of your points, but I want to start drinking that wine I poured. So, I’ll just say, “sure.”
sure……
@Amy, exhaustion wa not a plan, it was a pescription from her doctor.
@Paul – you don’t have a trampoline? Get one now.
Note to self – I must tell my daughter about your blog, sometimes she worries she was the only child who was ever this bad
I find the best cure for tantrums are a Bombay Sapphire martini and earplugs. The kids, pfft, they’re on their own.