My Toddler is Irrational and Other Obvious Observations

Blooding curdling screams, like she is being tortured. Oh, the horror! How can life possibly go on? Her string cheese will never ever be the same!

Saying that a toddler is irrational is as obvious as saying Ryan Gosling is hot. If you don't agree with me about the toddler part, I invite you to come over and try to convince my daughter that her string cheese, orange or banana are going to taste exactly the same, even if they are broken.

Post not about Ryan Gosling, but it can't hurt!

I am telling you that Claire will have have none of your logic. She will continue to believe that said string cheese is in a state of ruin. She will continue to vacillate between this belief and the vain hope that something can be done or someone can help to fix her string cheese and make it better, which, in turn, will guarantee that all is right with the world.

I realize that part of my job as a parent is allowing her to have feelings of disappointment about such devastations as broken string cheese. It's important to me to validate her experience, even if I don't agree that the world is going to end due to a piece of cheese. I also know that it is my obligation to teach her that things break, and to commiserate about the fact that life doesn't always work out the way that you planned.

I don't often feel so philosophical in the moment. I kinda just want it to stop. The drama-queen side of my daughter seems to have a way of taking me off my center. And when she wants things just so, I start to get paranoid. I wonder whether my daughter's predilections for whole pieces of food are just typical toddler behavior or something much more dire. Perhaps, she's inheriting some of my own OCD tendencies. In reality, it's impossible to predict which of my bad qualities she's going to inherit, so I don't know why I bother trying.

But the bigger problem is that I really do want to be able to take all of Claire's problems away from her. It kills me when I can't fix her string cheese. I want to continue to be the all-knowing, all-powerful figure in her life. With each string cheese incident, I have a shorter distance to fall from my pedestal.

With each string cheese incident, I project into the future all of the disappointments that she is going to have in life, which I am powerless to stop from happening. I imagine the teacher who will make her feel stupid or small. Mean girls will surely enter the picture at some point along the way. She will endure a broken heart for the first time.

I am not psychic. How do I know these things will happen to her? Because they happened to me! My parents did not do a good job helping me through these times. "Buck up" was the general Germanic tone. I could go on in greater length about my own childhood, but I'll save that bit of ranting for another post.

This post is about how I want to do things differently with my daughter. I don't want to minimize my daughter's feeling like my parents did with me, when I was little. I also know that being a supportive mom doesn't mean constantly stopping Claire from falling, but, rather, being there to catch her when she falls.

Knowing and believing are two different things, though. I guess I'm as irrational as my toddler!


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Dueling Drama Queens

Source

Tantrums are reaching a fever pitch in this house. The toddler is not the only offending party. She and her mom (that would be me) take turns dawning the drama-queen crown. Wait, let me explain. I have an excuse for my bad behavior.

(My daughter does too. She's a toddler. Her excuse is better.)

I've been sick the last few days. And not just with a garden-variety cold. This bug was flu-like. I swear even my eyelashes hurt. Light and sound aggravated the pain. You can probably guess which of these two triggers my daughter exacerbated. Her cries, yells and demands were like daggers to my head.

I needed relief. It was not coming quickly enough.

At this point, a part of my reptilian brain decides that yelling "Stop! I just can't take it anymore" (and things of a similar ilk, sometimes laced with profanity) is a good idea. Momentarily, I actually feel better. But amping up the temperature of the situation is not a great long-term strategy. It doesn't work for me or my daughter. In the end, I don't know who ends up feeling worse. Probably me since I'm the one who is supposed to be the adult (or at least act like one a good deal of the time).

I don't have much else to say, other than to qualify the confession above by saying that I don't behave this way with the regularity that it occurred during my recent convalescence. Really, I was just wondering what the rest of you do when there's no relief in sight, when you have had it, when you don't have any more resources at your disposal and you can no longer rise above yourself.

And, please, don't tell me to walk away and take a break. My daughter just follows me. And cries louder (my eyelashes start hurting again just thinking about it).


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Are You There God? It's Me, Rachel

MEMORANDUM                                            PRIORITY: URGENT                                                                         

2/9/2013

To:  Powers that be

Fr:  Rachel Demas, The Tao of Poop

Re:  Toddler Tantrums

First, let me take a moment to thank you for the opportunity to engage in toddler tantrums at the tender age of 18 months old. While we thought our daughter was a bit young for such behavior, we remain optimistic that getting a jump on the situation now will serve as great preparation come the dreaded "terrible twos" stage. Actually, the terrible twos brings me to the central issue of this memo.

It was my impression that tantrums this frequent, illogical, random, protracted, unpredictable, overwhelming, and unmanageable should commence when my daughter reaches the age of two, preferably on her birthday and not a day sooner. To my knowledge, they are upon us now. The early onset of this situation has me shocked and confused, and brings me to a question and a request.

Question: Will my daughter's tantrums get worse when she turns two? Given our current circumstance, I don't see how this scenario is possible. I write seeking your reassurance that this fear is as irrational as my daughter's recent tantrums seem to me. Your reassurance in this matter will allow me to move forward knowing that, indeed, there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Request: Because my daughter's tantrums began at 18 months old, I would beseech you to relieve us of their burden by the time my daughter is two and a half. I realize I'm probably not the first parent to solicit your intercession on his or her behalf, and have no other special circumstances to report, which would have given my case additional merit. Further, I am aware that, as a first-time parent, I may appear naive about some of the vicissitudes of a toddler's behavior. However, I merely ask that you see the logic in my math. If the terrible twos start six months early (as, indeed, they have for us), I believe they should end six months early as well.

Please find attached requisite form OP-160 for your review. In advance, I appreciate that you have taken this missive under advisement. Further, I realize that you must be extremely busy with other pressing issues from desperate parents like me, so I would like to thank you for your attention in this matter.

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Photo Source: John Fera, Wikipedia, license