Friday we successfully made it to the beach and now that I. is a big girl who can help carry things, our trip to the beach went pretty smoothly. We enjoyed the cold water and once D. got over his initial unease, he was happy to hold my hand and play in the waves while I. was running and jumping like a little nut. Our time went too quickly (always a good sign) and no one threw a fit when it was time to leave, which was a fantastic surprise.
Maybe our better than expected beach trip made me cocky, because I had high hopes for how much fun Caroline's birthday party was going to be on Saturday afternoon. It was a great party, with creative pretty decorations, wonderful ideas, and good food. The part that wasn't so great was that D. was whiny, conflicted, and shrieking at the top of his lungs for a least half of the time we were there. If I had known that I was going to have to be picking him up every 5 seconds literally, I would have worn a damn turtleneck so I wouldn't have to worry about flashing my bra (or more) to all the partygoers every time I had to pick him up or put him down. Finally, he settled down and played outside in the water (it was over 100 degrees) but by then, I was a sweaty, aggravated hot mess and just felt like going into the bathroom and crying. I guess I thought he'd be so happy to see Caroline's dog and play with her toys that it would be a cake walk. Well, it was far from a cake walk and it's never fun being the mom of "that kid". I can look back now and find the humor in it but at the time, I just wanted it all to end sooner rather than later.
Today V. had to get a couple of errands done that he's been procrastinating for months about and I. decided she would like to go with him. So after the gym and lunch, she went off with him, I got D. down for a rest and I'm posting this before I go rest for a little bit. I'm glad she went with him and that V. didn't make a big deal about it and try to talk her out of it. I remember doing things and going places with my dad and it was special. Especially so for I. since V. is gone all the time. V. didn't experience this time with the girls, I mean not really, so he doesn't understand that it can be the simplest times doing the most ordinary things that will stick in I.'s mind as a memory. I'll try to remember tonight to tell him that after the kiddos go to bed. Sometimes you have to point out the most mundane things to V. for him to realize something and even then, I know he'll poo-poo the idea that she'll remember these errand times in the future with fondness.
Showing posts with label tantrums. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tantrums. Show all posts
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
At Least She Has a Sense Of Humor
After throwing an object at me because she didn't like what I was saying and then crying at the top of her lungs in her room for 20 minutes (all this before 8:30am), I. says to me, "It's been a good morning, huh Momma?".
Then she erupts into gales of laughter because she knows just how ridiculous that statement is considering the angst that has gone on around this joint.
Well at least she has a sense of humor. That counts for something.
Then she erupts into gales of laughter because she knows just how ridiculous that statement is considering the angst that has gone on around this joint.
Well at least she has a sense of humor. That counts for something.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
The Last Word
It's amazing what it takes to put I. in one of her best morning moods in a long time - a leotard and matching skirt. She's been laughing, exhibiting sweet, good manners, and dancing up a storm this morning. No angst this morning and it's a relief. A big fat relief that I'm relishing.
What's funny is that the road that paved this involved a tantrum yesterday in a dressing room. Those are always fun especially when it involves a 5 year old who has at least 10 times the lung volume and stamina as a 2 year old. At least there was a door to hide behind.
I. has been taking gymnastics for about 5 months now and loves it. The other little girls wear leotards and I. wears sweatpants and a t-shirt. It didn't matter to her and she never brought up the difference so I certainly didn't. She tends to march to her own drum and not care if she's doing something different and I like that about her. But one day after class on the way home, she asked what the other girls were wearing and after a short back and forth I told her that if she wanted to get one, she would have to submit herself to "shopping" at the mall because that was the only store I knew of. She hates shopping (so do I for that matter) but agreed that she would go for the leotard. So off we went yesterday.
It was going swimmingly well until the very end. That's usually how these things happen. Just when you start relaxing and patting yourself on the back feeling good about how things are going is when they start unraveling before your eyes and you're standing there watching your kid sitting on the ground sobbing and wailing in public with you standing there in disbelief thinking, "What the hell happened?!" Ah, but I jumped ahead a little.
I. had picked out the leotard and then we just needed to decide between 2 skirts. Now mind you, she goes once a week and once kindergarten starts, I don't even know if she is going to be in a gymnastics class and these dance-ish clothes aren't cheap. So taking all that into account, I really just wanted to get 1 skirt at this time and then we'd go from there in the future once we figure out the longevity of gymnastics. Well, that's where it all started to fall apart. Because when you're 5, it's hard to make a choice between 2 things that you like. We went around and around, me remaining calm and trying to help her decide because that's what a good parent should do - use this as a lesson for the bigger choices in the future, right?
Problem was that I. is an intense kid - she feels everything times 10 and as we stood there in the dressing room, I could see the emotions building up. It was like watching a tornado coming at you and not being able to stop it, just deal with it. It culminated in her throwing herself down on the floor with the 2 skirts in her hands sobbing at the top of her lungs. I kept trying calmly and quietly to help her but she just kept getting more upset so that's when Mean Momma had to come for a visit. Mean Momma kept her voice low and slow and said, "If you keep crying like this, we will walk out of this store without anything." Then I started counting 1-2 and I. knew if I got to 3, that was exactly what was going to happen so the sobbing ceased with an abrupt intake of air, followed by rhythmic sniffing.
I'm not an ogre though and part of me was thinking, "Come on, it's only 1 additional skirt." At that point, it was too late to go there and really, isn't it always just one more thing? Maybe I am too hard-core but I suspect (and fear) that it's a big ole slippery slope that "just one more thing" mentality and it doesn't feed some of the character traits I am trying to instill in I. You know like gratefulness, appreciation, and contentedness. Those things are important to me and guide me through many of the decisions I make when it comes to I.
At the end of the day, I. picked one skirt and we walked over to get a frozen yogurt. It also gave me an opportunity to have a conversation with her about how in life we have to make choices every day and if she was going to cry about all of them, her days weren't going to be very happy. I asked her if next time I needed to get something for her, should I just go pick it out without her or did she still want to pick it out? She said she wanted to come pick it out and agreed that next time, she would try to choose without the crying tantrum part of it.
"Whew," I thought, "another life lesson taught." and was just getting ready to pat myself on the back when she looked at me and said with a sweet smile, "When I have a little girl, I'm going to buy her both skirts for her leotard."
Just shoot me now.
What's funny is that the road that paved this involved a tantrum yesterday in a dressing room. Those are always fun especially when it involves a 5 year old who has at least 10 times the lung volume and stamina as a 2 year old. At least there was a door to hide behind.
I. has been taking gymnastics for about 5 months now and loves it. The other little girls wear leotards and I. wears sweatpants and a t-shirt. It didn't matter to her and she never brought up the difference so I certainly didn't. She tends to march to her own drum and not care if she's doing something different and I like that about her. But one day after class on the way home, she asked what the other girls were wearing and after a short back and forth I told her that if she wanted to get one, she would have to submit herself to "shopping" at the mall because that was the only store I knew of. She hates shopping (so do I for that matter) but agreed that she would go for the leotard. So off we went yesterday.
It was going swimmingly well until the very end. That's usually how these things happen. Just when you start relaxing and patting yourself on the back feeling good about how things are going is when they start unraveling before your eyes and you're standing there watching your kid sitting on the ground sobbing and wailing in public with you standing there in disbelief thinking, "What the hell happened?!" Ah, but I jumped ahead a little.
I. had picked out the leotard and then we just needed to decide between 2 skirts. Now mind you, she goes once a week and once kindergarten starts, I don't even know if she is going to be in a gymnastics class and these dance-ish clothes aren't cheap. So taking all that into account, I really just wanted to get 1 skirt at this time and then we'd go from there in the future once we figure out the longevity of gymnastics. Well, that's where it all started to fall apart. Because when you're 5, it's hard to make a choice between 2 things that you like. We went around and around, me remaining calm and trying to help her decide because that's what a good parent should do - use this as a lesson for the bigger choices in the future, right?
Problem was that I. is an intense kid - she feels everything times 10 and as we stood there in the dressing room, I could see the emotions building up. It was like watching a tornado coming at you and not being able to stop it, just deal with it. It culminated in her throwing herself down on the floor with the 2 skirts in her hands sobbing at the top of her lungs. I kept trying calmly and quietly to help her but she just kept getting more upset so that's when Mean Momma had to come for a visit. Mean Momma kept her voice low and slow and said, "If you keep crying like this, we will walk out of this store without anything." Then I started counting 1-2 and I. knew if I got to 3, that was exactly what was going to happen so the sobbing ceased with an abrupt intake of air, followed by rhythmic sniffing.
I'm not an ogre though and part of me was thinking, "Come on, it's only 1 additional skirt." At that point, it was too late to go there and really, isn't it always just one more thing? Maybe I am too hard-core but I suspect (and fear) that it's a big ole slippery slope that "just one more thing" mentality and it doesn't feed some of the character traits I am trying to instill in I. You know like gratefulness, appreciation, and contentedness. Those things are important to me and guide me through many of the decisions I make when it comes to I.
At the end of the day, I. picked one skirt and we walked over to get a frozen yogurt. It also gave me an opportunity to have a conversation with her about how in life we have to make choices every day and if she was going to cry about all of them, her days weren't going to be very happy. I asked her if next time I needed to get something for her, should I just go pick it out without her or did she still want to pick it out? She said she wanted to come pick it out and agreed that next time, she would try to choose without the crying tantrum part of it.
"Whew," I thought, "another life lesson taught." and was just getting ready to pat myself on the back when she looked at me and said with a sweet smile, "When I have a little girl, I'm going to buy her both skirts for her leotard."
Just shoot me now.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Not A Good Ending
Off to the races we went this afternoon and I was surprised that it wasn't very crowded at all especially in the infield with the kids' entertainment. I. had a great time going on all the slides and bouncy things over and over again without having to wait at least for the first hour. A pony ride capped things off and we got to see the first horse race before I. started complaining that she was hungry. Mind you, before we left the house she was fed lunch and had a granola bar at the races. No matter, by 2:15, she was hungry. Thus is my life.
We headed to one of our favorite Mexican restaurants that was nearby, one that we usually make great memories. Sadly to say, not so much today (and that's putting it mildly). Why? Six hours later, I'm still not sure. Except for Puerto Rico, we've never had trouble with I. in restaurants. The first crying jag of the meal I think was triggered by I.'s low blood sugar because she began acting and feeling better as soon as she began eating. I handled the crying well - quickly grabbed her and carried her outside to calm down without everyone's eyes on us. Back inside, we began eating and things were good until the very end of the meal. Then she started getting a little mischievious with V. (they were sitting on the same side to give me a break for a change), then she wasn't listening to him when he told her to stop, and then they were wrestling around a bit until I told them to both stop it before something got broken. By now, I'm getting irritated. One, because I've already dealt with one tantrum of sorts. Two, because I've had to take I. to the bathroom 2 times during the last 30 minutes. Three, because I'm still getting over being sick and at the races, I ended up lugging her around a lot because V.'s back was really hurting and I'm starting to feel worn out. Lastly, I'm getting frustrated with watching this dynamic between the two of them, this way that they feed off the worst of each other until things go really bad really fast and then I'm left to mop the whole mess up. I guess the most confusing and frustrating thing is that I don't believe they mean to do it. In fact, I don't think they actually realize it. It's kind of like a married couple who know how to push each other's buttons and although they may not see it, people on the outside see it coming.
When I. ceased listening, picked up a knife to play with and refuse to let it go, it was time to end it. So I grabbed the diaper bag and carried her out of the restaurant (again) through 5 waiters standing there. As I started up the first of two flight of stairs, I. started fighting and caused me to fall up the stairs luckily without injury to either of us. She then proceeded to throw herself on the ground, mind you screaming at the top of her lungs. So I grabbed her arm and lugged her up the first set of stairs and then carried her up the last set. I got her to walk out to the car and then had to strongarm her into the car seat. It wasn't pleasant.
I am disappointed how this last day of summer ended. I am crushed because there are two red marks on one of I.'s arms from when I was lugging her up the stairs. After I got her in bed, I basically cried in the shower and collapsed on the couch. Physically, emotionally, and mentally I'm done. The only thing I'm trying to keep in mind is that by the time we got home, I. wasn't upset at all and seem to forget everything. She didn't understand why I was crying before we read books; all she seemed to remember were the good things of the day. While I may not get that, I'll try to take comfort in that. I want so much to have good memories for her of us together. I also want so much for me to have good memories of us together.
It was a hard last day of summer vacation and tomorrow I will tearfully take I. to her first day of preschool, hoping that she will retain nothing but good memories of this summer. Then it's up to me to retain those same good memories for myself.
We headed to one of our favorite Mexican restaurants that was nearby, one that we usually make great memories. Sadly to say, not so much today (and that's putting it mildly). Why? Six hours later, I'm still not sure. Except for Puerto Rico, we've never had trouble with I. in restaurants. The first crying jag of the meal I think was triggered by I.'s low blood sugar because she began acting and feeling better as soon as she began eating. I handled the crying well - quickly grabbed her and carried her outside to calm down without everyone's eyes on us. Back inside, we began eating and things were good until the very end of the meal. Then she started getting a little mischievious with V. (they were sitting on the same side to give me a break for a change), then she wasn't listening to him when he told her to stop, and then they were wrestling around a bit until I told them to both stop it before something got broken. By now, I'm getting irritated. One, because I've already dealt with one tantrum of sorts. Two, because I've had to take I. to the bathroom 2 times during the last 30 minutes. Three, because I'm still getting over being sick and at the races, I ended up lugging her around a lot because V.'s back was really hurting and I'm starting to feel worn out. Lastly, I'm getting frustrated with watching this dynamic between the two of them, this way that they feed off the worst of each other until things go really bad really fast and then I'm left to mop the whole mess up. I guess the most confusing and frustrating thing is that I don't believe they mean to do it. In fact, I don't think they actually realize it. It's kind of like a married couple who know how to push each other's buttons and although they may not see it, people on the outside see it coming.
When I. ceased listening, picked up a knife to play with and refuse to let it go, it was time to end it. So I grabbed the diaper bag and carried her out of the restaurant (again) through 5 waiters standing there. As I started up the first of two flight of stairs, I. started fighting and caused me to fall up the stairs luckily without injury to either of us. She then proceeded to throw herself on the ground, mind you screaming at the top of her lungs. So I grabbed her arm and lugged her up the first set of stairs and then carried her up the last set. I got her to walk out to the car and then had to strongarm her into the car seat. It wasn't pleasant.
I am disappointed how this last day of summer ended. I am crushed because there are two red marks on one of I.'s arms from when I was lugging her up the stairs. After I got her in bed, I basically cried in the shower and collapsed on the couch. Physically, emotionally, and mentally I'm done. The only thing I'm trying to keep in mind is that by the time we got home, I. wasn't upset at all and seem to forget everything. She didn't understand why I was crying before we read books; all she seemed to remember were the good things of the day. While I may not get that, I'll try to take comfort in that. I want so much to have good memories for her of us together. I also want so much for me to have good memories of us together.
It was a hard last day of summer vacation and tomorrow I will tearfully take I. to her first day of preschool, hoping that she will retain nothing but good memories of this summer. Then it's up to me to retain those same good memories for myself.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Today's Epiphany
Last night, my mom treated me to a showing of Dr. Laura showing (whose views I enjoy very much) for a Mother's Day present. We enjoyed a nice dinner together (just us for a change) and then enjoyed Dr. Laura's insights on being a stay at home mother. It gave me a real boost to my stay at home mom's tank of energy and patience and made me realize (again) how special this time I have with my girl is. I had to take the final paperwork down to her preschool this week and as I watched all the parents picking up their happy children and watched my little girl wistfully watching this, I realized "my full-time week with her is ending soon" and it made me so sad. It's so conflicting because I know she will thrive in school and that it will be beneficial to her because she is chomping at the bit to learn and interact with her peers. But I also remember the pains and tribulations of school and I'm talking about kindergarten here - the frustration of not understanding something the very first time, the pain of being ostracized for no good reason and I need to start figuring out how to console her, how to make her understand she's good enough no matter what and how to be able to successfully deal with this kind of hardship. My momma bear instinct is to go into any situation and kick some ass for her but I know in the long run that's not going to help her. I need to pass that kick ass mentality onto her so that she can carry it on through her life but one thing I am confident about is this - she will survive without me. My parents passed that drive to succeed onto me but not necessarily that will to survive, but I had that drive from pre-K on and it has carried me through some crazy times. I. has so many of my behaviors in her that I am confident that she has that drive to thrive no matter what but just in case, I'm going to feed those behaviors as much as I can.
I'm just so thankful that I have this time with I., enjoying her, playing with her, kissing and chewing on her, and just showing her how much I love her. Most of all, I feel confident that she knows how much I love her and have fun with her. And that to me, is the bottom line of my life. With a friend battling terminal cancer, I view things differently now - what difference am I making in how many lives? That's the bottom line and I'm okay with it. I just need to remember that during the trying times...
I'm just so thankful that I have this time with I., enjoying her, playing with her, kissing and chewing on her, and just showing her how much I love her. Most of all, I feel confident that she knows how much I love her and have fun with her. And that to me, is the bottom line of my life. With a friend battling terminal cancer, I view things differently now - what difference am I making in how many lives? That's the bottom line and I'm okay with it. I just need to remember that during the trying times...
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