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Tantrum of Epic Proportions
OK, maybe “epic” isn’t really the word. But it definitely was bad enough to rank up there in the official parental memory registry of Incidents That Shall Not be Forgotten. Like that time at Safeway over the kid-cart shaped like a truck. Where she screamed so hard and so long that she lost her voice for the next day. Or that time at Sam’s Club where I had to traverse the football-field-like store bodily carrying a kicking, screaming, fighting, spitting, toddler. Or that horrific time we were at a restaurant and her screeching/crying/yelling over not being allowed to rearrange furniture actually drove other customers away.
Isn’t it AWESOME to be a parent?
And why did our nearly 4-year-old dear daughter not give us a memo that 2-year-old-worthy tantrums were still on the table of viable behavioral options? Now granted, she was a little tired and hungry prior to our shopping expedition, AND she has been trying on some new developmental game faces lately, but STILL.
So we blindly went off to Fresh & Easy last night to gather a few groceries. Usually K is a very good shopper for her age. We rarely have problems. I guess the first tipoff was that she obstinately insisted that we buy plums. OK, now, that seems pretty trivial, right? But consider that a) we had already selected 4 other types of fruit to purchase, and b) she doesn’t even EAT PLUMS. Anyway, it set the stage.
The major issue of contention was that she wanted to buy some potato chips. Generally we try to minimize the amount of junk food we buy, but try not to make anything particular into a “forbidden fruit” type war. So sometimes, we let her have some Sun Chips or whatever. But last night, it just wasn’t on the food agenda. Normally, she is pretty laissez faire about the whole “we are not buying that today” thing. Occasionally we’ll get a token protest but overall, she has trained us to not expect outright mutiny.
And to be honest last night she was mostly just complaining about it at first, and then we went to check out. Fresh & Easy uses only the self-scan stations, which is great because she likes to help hand stuff over and scan it – cool, right? But last night she was insistently and LOUDLY demanding to do it all herself, and rapidly accelerating into the tantrum DANGER ZONE. She got angry every time we tried to show her how to line up the barcode with the scanner. Compounded with the potato chip indignity, it was too much and she rapidly melted into a crying, screaming, mess. For some ungodly reason, to emphasize her suffering, instead of using the usual “mad” cry, she tried out a new version: screaming at the top of her lungs, like you might expect from a child getting their arm cut off with no anesthesia. Coupled with the biggest crocodile tears I’ve ever seen from her, we parental units then encountered some of the most memorable and epic “stares” from people that we’ve ever received. Ya’ll parents out there, you know what I’m talking about.
Well, somehow we managed to keep our zen and resist the urge to strangle/yell at her give her reinforcement. She screamed and cried all.the.way.home.
Next post topic: the good stuff that makes it all worth days like this. (or something along those lines, to you know, balance out my frame of mind. Parenting Yin and Yang, right?)
Toilet Tantrum, Prozak Anyone?
I keep getting little glimpses of tantalizing hope that there may be light at the end of the potty-training tunnel. I really thought we were making progress. We have been diaper free for almost two weeks, using pull-ups mostly, but with a good handful of big-girl undie sessions too. She had a few spontaneous, successful potty events, and while remaining uninterested in performance motivators, I had hoped we were going the right direction. And then, there was this morning.
K was slated to go hang out at K2′s house, to spend time being un-bored with the more interesting toys her cousin possesses. So I figured, hey this is great, another chance to practice wearing big girl undies out of the house! Naturally, the fact that someone else would have to deal with any accident cleanup (my dear, dear brother) never entered into my mental equation. Of course, I was going to do the courtesy of making sure K did her morning business before leaving, so when we got up, I gave her a few minutes to wake up and hopefully un-grumpify, and then gently herded her into the bathroom to weewee before she went in her pullup anyway. [side note: no matter how hard you resist, when you become a parent, you will start using words like weewee, potty, ouchies, etc. CANNOT.BE.AVOIDED.]
She instantly turned into a rabid snarling wildebeest. Or something like that. She did actually climb up onto the potty, whereupon she snarled and fussed and did absolutely nothing. Wearing my most patient, saintly expression, I thanked her for trying and we washed, and proceeded to get dressed. She snarled over that, and over breakfast (which she refused to eat anyway as per the norm). While patiently overlooking her wildebeest antics, and giving her some space to calm down [read: ignoring her altogether while checking my email] she came running in all freaked out about (and no, this is not a typo) “peeping in her pants!”. She was squawking about not being able to find her other underwear, which made no sense because she has about 18 pair in the drawer/laundry basket.
I reassured; I tried to soothe; I calmly asked her to go in the bathroom (a mere 6 feet away) and pull off her wet pants while I went and retrieved clean clothes. She screeched and went all wildebeest again, saying ”I CAN’T DO IT!”. So I said, alrighty then, just go in the bathroom and stand there and wait for me. So she snarls, screeches, AND runs into the bathroom and flops herself on the wide edge of the tub (facedown) and starts kicking her feet. Offering help elicited more screaming. I sat and stared and otherwise ignored.
So then she realized her wildebeest ways aren’t doing her any good and she stands up and does a token tug on her pants, and starts screaming about not being able to pull them down. Further ignoring the wildebeest produces the desired effect and she tries again, this time successfully removing the offending garments to her ankes. More screeching and foot flapping ensues, and finally they are thankfully off. I praised; and was just about to go looking for clothes, when she hops up on the potty and says “Mom, now I’m peeping again!”. So while praising her, she lifts one leg up to rest her foot on the edge, to get a better view and visually verify her urinary prowess. And then the screeching begins about the “peeps going all over!”.
Could this get worse? Yes it could. I suggested to her that putting her silly leg down would fix the splashing problem, and she makes a loud “humph” sound, spins around on the potty sideways (still peeing) so her back is to me, and proceeds to start kicking the toilet with her heels and screaming some more for good measure. Prompting her to clean up with the flushable wipes sponsored another round of frantic wildebeest behavior, as did flushing and handwashing.
So, to make a long story short, she did finally get redressed, somewhat calmed down, and transported over to K2′s house. No breakfast but hey, who’s counting?
I thought seriously about the situation all the way to work, and decided on a new strategic battle plan. She definitely can use the toilet when necessary, but since she chooses to avail herself of the convenience of diapers/pullups, I’m going to remove the choice. Yep, it’s going to have to be cold turkey (except at night or when we will be out of the house for long periods of time) because I know she doesn’t like the feeling of an accident, so hopefully that in and of itself will prove to be the best motivator of all. Also, I saw a Dora sticker chart at Target and I’m going to get it and institute a simple policy: 1 sticker for weewee, 2 for poo, and a full chart means a trip to CHUCK E CHEESE’S! She’s been twice, and is obsessed. I have no shame in using that to my advantage.
After all, it is war.
