I sometimes feel my life is ruled by temper tantrums. Mine, my son's, my daughter's, my dogs' . . . I am surrounded by angst! Today's tantrums went something like this:
6:30am--Mom makes son stay at table to finish yummy Almond Coco Loco Flip from Chobani that he HAD to have, even though it was the last one and Mommy wanted it, only he really only wanted the almonds and chocolate chunks and refused to touch the coconut yogurt that he usually devours. (Are you kidding me?)
7:00am--Angry that Mom wants him to eat 1/2 the yogurt, son flails around and knocks milk all over table. Mom sends him to bed.
8:00am--Son pitches fit because Mom won't let him watch TV. Gets put in bed while Mommy takes shower.
9:00am--Son has spat with Mom because she has to show the insurance man around the rental to take pictures and he doesn't want her to.
9:30am--Trying to get out the door to go to Auntie's house so she can babysit while Mommy conducts a story interview, daughter pitches fit because she doesn't want to wear sneakers. Ends up in flips flops with back straps.
9:45am--Blind, deaf dog decides to camp by the barn instead of coming in the house as always (probably due to the fact that the children keep trying to go out of the house before Mommy's ready and she thinks we're going outside to play). Mommy goes to get dog. Returns to house with dog following. Five minutes later, dog is back at the barn. Mommy goes out and leads her in by the collar.
10:00am--Children want to hang out in the walkway looking at plants and insects rather than getting in the car. Finally all get in car.
10:15am--At bank drive-thru, only receive one lollipop. Son says, "You'll get one next time, Chinchita!" Mommy sends the empty container back in and asks for another lollipop before daughter realizes she's getting swindled. Crisis averted. Points for Mom.
11:00am--Arrive at Auntie's. Everyone momentarily happy.
11:30am--Son complains that the stuffed pork chops Mommy brought for lunch are not to his liking. Doesn't want to eat them. Auntie and cousin convince him otherwise. Mommy leaves for interview . . . prays for her sister!
12:00pm--Mommy arrives to find interviewees had forgotten she was coming, zipped through the world's shortest interview before the farmer had to leave for another appointment, got some photos, and went back to Auntie's.
1:30pm--Auntie and Mommy have sister time. Kids watch TV. Kids are actually ok when we decide enough TV and turn it off.
2:45pm--Mommy leaves for hairdresser. Gets new cut. Hopes she did the right thing. Thinks she did. Will know for certain in the morning.
4:00pm--Mommy tells kids it's time to go home. Son begins crying, "I didn't even get to play on the swings!" As his swing set is in pieces awaiting assembly, Auntie suggests we stay 10 minutes. We stay 30.
4:30pm--Auntie offers us supper. Mommy agrees. Tells kids to come in the house to help get ready. Daughter stiffens, falls on the ground, and screams, "I DON'T WANT TO!!!" Mommy picks her up and carries her. She continues screaming, "I WANNA WALK!!!" Mommy puts her down. She refuses to walk. Mommy carries her to the deck and says, "Go in the house." She refuses.
Mommy hits the end of her tolerance for whining, screaming, hitting, and general mayhem. "If you don't go in the house by the count of 3, we're going home. Do you want to eat here?" "Yes." "Then go in the house. 1. 2. 3."
Mommy has to grudgingly respect her daughter's steadfast refusal to give in. She does not have to reward it. "Ok. We're going home." Daughter and son BOTH begin crying and screaming that they don't want to leave as Mommy pulls together stuff and hustles them out the door. Auntie whispers, "God bless you!" He'd better.
4:45pm--Kids are tired and hungry. (Naturally . . . that's why we'd agreed to eat at Auntie's, but who can reason with a temper tantrum?!) Mommy goes to Dunkin' Donuts for cinnamon raisin bagels. Orders first for kids, then for herself. Son again begins screaming, "I'm hungry!! You didn't order anything for us!!!" "What are you talking about? I ordered for you first. Bagels." "Oh." Yeah. Oh. Kids eat and fall asleep.
5:30pm--Mommy wakes up sleeping babies. Nobody is happy. Mommy hauls in all the stuff from Auntie's. Kids stand in the driveway screaming. Refuse to walk to the house. Mommy practices Lamaze breathing to remain cool. Drops stuff in house. Goes back for kids. Carries daughter; leads son by hand.
5:45pm--Mommy begins baths. Son screams, hits, calls names, and again tries to convince Mommy she doesn't love him . . . because she's giving him a bath . . . and picking off the world's tiniest tick . . . if that's not love, what is? Son gets taken out of bath because he's flailing and throwing water at Mommy in anger at taking a bath. Son complains he's cold while sister gets bath.
(Of course you're cold . . . you're covered in shampoo, you were a danger to your sister in the tub, you're treating your mother like an 18th-Century scullery maid . . . and you have to wait your turn for the tub . . . life is full of consequences, dear heart!)
6:30pm--Daughter stages a sit-in because she doesn't want to pick up blocks in the living room. Mommy sweeps up the tiny shells and foam pieces that made up their Sunday School art project and throws them out . . . since the kids had already destroyed the containers they were supposed to stay in.
6:40pm--Mommy succumbs to the pressure of remaining mostly calm all day and decides it is bedtime. Children throw fits--they're thirsty.
7:30pm--Screaming from the bedroom cuts through the sounds of jumping, laughing, and talking. (I thought these kids were tired????? Don't they want to sleep??? I do!) Son has thrown a little person at sister (an act that is always verboten, most especially when she is in her crib) and left her with a cut, a welt, and a bruise on her head.
7:45pm--Mommy throws a little temper tantrum of her own, ices the cut, disciplines the son, comforts the daughter, discards the little person, puts everyone back to bed . . . naturally with another drink because who wouldn't be thirsty after spending an hour jumping, laughing, talking, and committing acts of physical violence? . . . and sits down to watch old reruns of NCIS Los Angeles.
There's something to be said for a little dose of escapism!
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