It was bound to happen eventually, but I still wasn’t ready. Nothing in life has prepared me for the first public temper tantrum from my not quite two-year-old toddler. He and I have been making quite the bond lately. He talks really well and has entire conversations with me about what he’s learned at day care, who he wants to call while we’re driving or what song he’d like to listen to. He has an wonderful playlist if you’re interested. Black Pumas, Johnny Cash, Hamilton Soundtrack, Tee Nah Nah, Shama Lama. Those are just some of his frequent requests. We try not to permit screen time because we don’t want a youtube-addicted toddler. Music, though? Completely acceptable.
We evacuated for Hurricane Sally. Call me crazy, but I didn’t know what that storm was going to do, and I didn’t want to stick around and find out. He was a trooper on the road, but it’s still a long drive for a tiny human. The September heat was taking no prisoners. Neither the window shades nor the weaving roadways could protect him as the sun shone through his back seat window. By the time we arrived, his little Lion King shirt was drenched with sweat. We drove three hours, listened to several of his favorite tunes on the way, and we met up with some of my family for lunch. Little did I know this cafe my mom chose for our meal would be filled with restaurant-goers who, like us, did not have work or school that day. It was so full there was a 30-minute wait. Y’all. A wait list at a restaurant in Oakdale. It’s almost unheard of. The staff was very kind, and they even put in his order before we were seated because Nana noticed he was getting antsy.
Antsy is a polite way to put it. He was up and down and all around the restaurant for the entire half-hour wait. We might have gotten seated earlier, but my sweet Aunt Vicki told the hostess to allow two servicemen to be seated ahead of us. Although we were technically in front of them in line, she wanted them to have a table first. She’s truly a kind-hearted person and later paid for their meal. My family is apparently hardcore patriotic, and I cannot complain. Scratch that. I should not complain. But I might. My toddler and his hungry, tired, frustrated tantrum made a scene for the ages. I think the servicemen would’ve preferred to eat in quiet instead of listening to him screaming while they ate their chicken salad croissants and drank their sweet tea.
By the time we were next to be seated, my son was having a full-on meltdown. It crossed my mind several times that I should have his sippy cup and snacks handy, but I kept thinking we would be seated soon. The diaper bag was not stocked with snacks and toys the way the Parents Magazine advised. When I remembered that the water and snacks were in the car in a cooler, it was too late. I had already offered him crackers which he dropped and/or refused. And the crackers incident sent him into a tailspin. My precious cherub lay flat on his back in the middle of the restaurant wailing. Wailing to the heavens because I threw his crackers in the trash. Either he wanted the cracker and it was gone, or he didn’t want the cracker and I kept offering it. Whatever I tried, he wasn’t having it.
I’ve read more than my share of articles, print and digital, on parenting a toddler through a tantrum. Some experts say their little emotions are too big and they cannot communicate their feelings yet. Some experts say it’s all in their diet, and proper nutrition can affect behavior. No matter the research or resource you refer to, there is solid advice out there for tantrums. One common underlying theme is to stay calm. Got it. I am patient. I got that one in the bag. I will not let my anxiety fuel his anxiety and make the situation worse. So, I patiently carried him out of the restaurant. The experts say maybe a change of scenery will do the trick. We went outside. In the heat.
When we got outside, I decided to put him down, even though, in retrospect, it could have been detrimental to his safety. After all, experts also say that a toddler can flail in a way that can be harmful to themselves or others. Put them in a safe place, a place where they cannot cause harm. Not the sidewalk. Not the dirty sidewalk outside the restaurant where the heat overpowered the northerly winds from the hurricane. He put his face to the concrete and continued wailing. Now, he was causing a scene and eating dirt. I scooped him up again and offered to walk up and down the sidewalk with him. He wanted to be held; then, he didn’t. He yearned for his mommy, but pushed me away.
In that moment, I felt helpless. Absolutely helpless. I’m his mom. If I can’t soothe him, what am I even doing? If my most important job in this life is motherhood, and I truly believe it is, then I must be failing. Nothing would please him in that moment, and I just wanted it to end. I found a bottle of water in my car, and I offered it to him. All the research says to try to distract them, so that’s what I tried.
“Would you like some water?”
“Would you like to hold the water bottle?”
“Look, the bottle rolls when you throw it.”
“No, don’t go in the street to get the water. Mommy will get it.”
He started to calm down. On a scale of 1-10, he was down to about 4 on the tantrum level. He was still sniffling and clingy, but he could get some words out. He decided he wanted to see Nana inside the restaurant. I decided it was a good time to go back in the restaurant. Going back in was definitely premature. As soon as we crossed the threshold, he lost his composure. I advised my family we would wait in the car. This disturbing nightmare behavior was not going to be acceptable at the lunch table. Nana asked if there was anything we need, and I said an iced water may be helpful. When we got to the car, I still didn’t know what to do. I placed him down in my driver seat, and I closed the door.
He was crying the most pitiful cry with the most pitiful face and he could see me through the glass of the driver door window. I stood outside the car, crying in tandem with my toddler, feeling utterly helpless. It occurred to me that I had a sparkling water in my cup holder. He always wants to drink my sparkling water. Maybe he’ll want to drink the water, and it will interrupt the tantrum. As I made my way to the passenger side of the car to attempt to give him the sparkling water, Missy was walking down the sidewalk to bring his iced water. You would think the iced water was a miracle cure. Either the water or Missy are the miracle cure. Whatever it was, I was grateful to have the tantrum behind us.
He was a perfect precious cherub for the remainder of our lunch. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how cute he was eating his lunch. He had a spinach salad with fresh berries, grilled chicken and almonds. We ordered balsamic vinaigrette for a salad dressing, and he dipped his salad pieces, and sometimes his whole hand, in the dressing. He ate some of my Lay’s potato chips with the dressing as well. Don’t judge. He was living his best life at this point. Moral of the story? I don’t know if there is one. Kids cry sometimes and lose their marbles. Thankfully, we all lived through it.
tperrynola 