Tanti Tactics

We are but a few weeks away from the famous second birthday; the birthday that marks the end on infancy. It’s the birthday that, until about thirty seconds ago (when I wrote that it’s a few weeks away) had always felt like some distant dream. Alas, Alice’s friends turn two, Mother’s Group celebrates, and we have had the tell-tale sign of the beginning of young childhood;

Tantrums.

Joy.

Alice has always been opinionated, but lately those opinions are accompanied with lying face down on the floor, banging her head against hard things, and getting so angry she visibly shakes. There’s a bit of throwing, lots of ‘nonono!’, and the other day I saw her try to bite the ottoman out of frustration. When I’m not in a hurry and I’ve had enough sleep, it’s still pretty cute.

But it’s kind of like living with a ticking time bomb. What was perfectly acceptable yesterday is horrendously offensive today. Don’t you dare pick out the wrong socks to wear. Daddy had better not look at her at dinner time, or talk to her, or do anything other than lie on the floor and be a jungle gym. She will eat dinner so long as peas only feature on every third mouthful. And it’s off mum’s plate. And it’s served at 5.37pm and gone by twelve past six.

There is that internet trend of taking a photo of your upset baby (urgh) and posting it along with the explanation as to why they are crying. Last week Alice had a tantrum because I wouldn’t let her lick the strange brown smudge on the side of the bath. It was oddly comical moment (for me anyway) and kind of sums up the toddler experience perfectly. The need to defy, in the need to try.
It’s a tricky time, when Alice is beginning to understand the concept of ‘negotiation’, but only on her terms. She is beginning to understand the concept of ‘sentences’, but doesn’t have the vocabulary to flesh the conversations out yet. And she is beginning to join concepts together like mum’s car keys and going in the car, but not concepts like already been out all day and petrol, which means her demands for ducks at the front door is extra frustrating for everyone involved.

 

So I realised today that, in order to appease the beas – er, I mean, the toddler – I do some… ‘stuff’. And it’s not even ‘stuff’ that I told myself I wouldn’t do when I was naïve and free and had time to think of such nonsense; things like ‘my kid’s not going to know what cake is’ and ‘my kid’s never going to watch TV’. Oh, no. the ‘stuff’ I do is a bit weird.

I was baking cookies today. Peanut butter and honey cookies, since you ask – I’ve eaten three and Alice has spat half a bite out and quipped ‘more ham’. Anywho.
While baking cookies I allowed Alice to pull out the cardboard and newspapers from the fire basket and cart it around the living room. It’s not overly weird, just a bit untidy.
Then, with my hands covered in flour, she took my finger and said, ‘Walk! Open corner!’ We get to the door of the library and she cocks her head to one side to say ‘pleeeease’ in her sweetest voice, so of course I oblige. She spends fifteen minutes in there, delighting in pulling books off the shelves, opening CD cases, emptying the cardboard recycling…. The room is a war zone. The weird starts; if it means Alice is not on the floor banging her head and crying like I’ve murdered her teddy bear, I’m okay with her touching my book collection. Nothing is sacred any more.

And then Alice comes out to the kitchen. It’s morning tea time. She throws a small wooden bowl and its lid on the tiles and looks at me defiantly. We stand off – I hold my breath. Alice grabs the freezer handle in a moment of unknown frustration and something unexpected happens; the door opens! She looks at me and I feign surprise; this could buy me five more minutes of peace! I play along. Alice opens the top drawer and finds the frozen mixed vegetables. She eats a pea. I allow it. I don’t just allow it, I actually say ‘Oooh, can you find a piece of corn?’ honestly.

So I’ve got the first batch of cookies in the oven and I’m rolling the second lot so they are ready to go. The fridge is going crazy, beeping non-stop because the freezer door has been opened for about three minutes now. This is the moment I realised that I’ve succumbed to the tantruming toddler. I didn’t simply close the freezer door, oh no. I took the bag of frozen vegies, poured some in to a bowl, and sat them on the floor – the FLOOR -  for Alice before replacing the bag in the freezer. Seriously, how did this madness happen? Apparently, I will do almost anything to avoid a tantrum, short of backing down on something I’ve asked Alice to do.
Incidentally, she ate three more, wanted play dough, and “cracked it”, as my sister would say.

 

Oh, crap. I haven’t said anything useful for you to take away. Okay, okay, tantrum tips…

Number one: Ask yourself, are they hungry, dirty, tired, or bored? Fix accordingly.

Number two: Is it between 4.30 and 6.00 at night? Is it a full moon? Is it Thursday? Kids pick up on these things.

Number three: if possible, tag team. Show a united front. I’ll be damned if there is one ‘ass-hole’ parent and one ‘fun’ parent in this house. If I was a more negative, pessimistic person, I’d say that I want Alice to look back on her childhood and hate both her parents equally.
If tag teaming isn’t an option, you’re doing a fricken awesome job and I admire your commitment to the cause. Refer to point five.

Number four: Cuddles are important, even if you feel like having a tantrum yourself. During the long, loud tantrums of pre-bath tidy up, I give Alice cuddles all through her yelling and defiance. Cuddles are calming for everyone, and it reminds both parties that you love each other, regardless of the frustration. It doesn’t mean you’re giving in, it just means you’re still there even though what they’re doing sucks ass.

Number five: Take five, sit on the couch, look at your kid that’s throwing things or screaming or lying on the floor or doing whatever it is he or she does during moments of frustration, and reassure yourself that this is healthy and normal and part of growing in to independent, expressive older children. Kids have tantrums whether they come from a single parent family who has sacrificed everything or a two parent family that can provide everything or any other kind of loving, attentive family. Kids have tantrums if their parents are lawyers, or house cleaners, or ECE teachers, apparently. And some kids don’t have tantrums. Take five, breathe, and remember that you guys aren’t the only one, that you’re not doing anything wrong. Go easy.

That’s what I like to tell myself, anyway. Please, tell me it's true!