What the hell happened today? Someone obviously switched my cute, funny son for a temperamental, angry beast in the night.
Weirdly enough, it all started when I said that I’d buy him a new toy car in the supermarket. I can’t really understand how this set him off, but it did. I was one of those parents that everybody is looking at. Half feel sorry for me- they’ve been there and know that hell has no wrath like a toddler scorned. The other half think I’m the world’s worst mother, casually carrying on with my shopping while my son is screaming so loud he could explode (I still even bought the car). The worst part was trying to walk across the car park, laden with bags when seemingly, Raffy’s skeleton vanished from within his body, leaving a floppy, sweating mess for me to drag to the car. Not a pretty sight.
This tantrum continued for a good hour when we got home. I was exhausted. So how to deal with this? Wait until the crying stops and go out for pizza.
I know this technically counts as rewarding the horrendous behaviour, but you know what? I don’t care. It took all of the self control I could muster not to order a large glass of wine with my lunch to help numb the pain. Sometimes you need to take the path to least resistance and not feel guilty about it.
It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the pressure of getting everything right, especially when we’re talking about parenting. Everyone wants to pretend that their little angels are just that, and boast about their cuter and more tolerable attributes. Nobody likes to admit that it’s hard. And to be honest, I don’t have a lot to complain about- 90% of the time, Raffy is the most hilariously awesome little guy and he’s a complete joy to be around. Occasionally, he throws me a curve ball and it’s probably down to it’s infrequency that I’m so inept at dealing with it.
In my experience, the best way to get through the day is to ignore it and do whatever is easiest (note: this is a bad way to deal with it). Just cruise throughout the day towards bedtime, knowing that with every minute that goes past, you’re one step closer to the end. Then pour yourself a large glass of wine and pray that he wakes up nice again tomorrow!
(As a very small consolation, I did find it mildly amusing that he wanted racing car pants on top of his PJs. Not that it cheered him up at all….)