All weekend we've had tantrum, after tantrum, after tantrum. There is no concept of patience. No waiting. No negotiating with a toddler. It is futile. I just stand there watching him throw his 11kg frame around, fists flailing, high pitched screeches coming out of his mouth, pitching back and forth in front of me narrowly missing walls and sharpedged corners of furniture and all I can think about is smoking cigarettes. Like I used to. Back in the days before I was stupid enough to have a child. That and stabbing. Deep breaths.
This post is an elaboration on my earlier post about Quirks. The Mushroom has developed, in the last month or so, a massive personality. He has either been abducted by aliens and some sort of human hybrid has been left in his place, or, it's true, I've created a monster.
These instances bring on a tantrum:
|Mushroom replaced |
- Hunger. As in, I have already eaten my body weight in food today but I am starving and I need to fed immediately or I will die.
- Nappy Changing. There are a few different scenarios which cue tantrums re nappy changing. The first is; please do not upset the happy balance of my undergarments, I am perfectly aware that I have 2kg of shit in my pants but it's warm and I like it. Or, I have 2kg of shit in my pants and I DON'T like it. Or the last option, which can be combined with the other two, my penis is exposed, please rectify immediately or I will continue to kick you in the guts and boobs and screech like a hyena.
- Sleeves. Too short, too long, too tight. T-shirts with sleeves, t-shirts without sleeves, t-shirts...
- Proffering the wrong drinking receptacle.
- Jumpers or Cardigans. Wearing in any form.
- Ugg boots. Screams when he sees them. He hasn't even seen Pam Anderson wearing hers yet so I don't know how he can know that they're the worst things ever.
- The car seat seat belt.
- Not giving him the dummy (more on this in another post).
- Not understanding grunting or arm reaching in the throes of a tantrum. I repeat 'use your words' in a firm, teachery, type voice over and over again until I fear my head my explode. Can he tell that my teeth are clenched?
- Choosing the wrong banana. Seriously.
- Saying no to watching the Planes movie for the 587th time.
- Saying no to any request.
- Exiting the room.
- Putting stickers on any part of his clothing or hands.
I know I've said it a million times already, as has everyone who's raised children ever, but far out! What the hell? This parenting thing is crazy!
This afternoon after fantasising about smoking cigarettes I wondered how it came to be that I was totally responsible for the upbringing of a well adjusted, polite, intelligent, understanding and caring person. A person who throws himself onto the kitchen floor when I offer the wrong type of rice cracker. I am NONE OF THESE THINGS!! Juffin and I cannot even agree on a brand of tomato sauce, and that, right there, does not bode well for our future parenting efforts... Parenting decisions are not tomato sauce, nor should they be likened to tomato sauce. They are like, super important and stuff.
I just wrote 'like' in a sentence.
Good God. I need to stop immediately. I am the worst.