Help...My Kid Just Exploded.

I feel like I am cheating a bit with this post. I admit that I'm recycling parts of a response I wrote after being asked about what to do with an older child who lashes out and tantrums in anger. This particular child was around six years old. I've got a lot of topics swirling about in my brain, but limited time to type them out. So, this will have to suffice in the interim.

This response was born out of both the child's tantrum, and the fact that while he was raging, there was no getting through to him.

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Something I hear often, and need to remind myself of frequently, is that we almost always get nowhere in the heat of the moment. At that time, we can only remind our kids of the rules and be very clear about them. When kids get this wild and out of control, they cannot stop themselves at that moment, so they really can't easily "snap out of it" when asked. Many kids are coerced into stopping by a punishment. This is a short-term fix.

Kids need skills. If they have no skills, they act on pure emotion, and clearly, different kids have a different range of emotion.

My oldest is a practical sort. Around this age we had the talk about the police. Let me be clear and say that I did not threaten him nor did I try to make him afraid. I just needed him to know how things go down as you get into adulthood. If I had been concerned that he would be frightened or feel threatened, I would not have had this conversation. Keep in mind this talk was during a neutral time, not in the middle of a tantrum.

I told him that grown-ups who kick others, damage property, and threaten others can go to jail. I told him that acting that way as a grown up is so serious that others will call the police (and should!) if they fear for their safety. I told him that damaging property, yelling violent and threatening words, and screaming are simply unacceptable behaviors and we needed to work together to teach him the skills to control his anger if he felt it reaching that level. This was part of growing up so he could learn to control his anger as a child before it got too difficult as an adult.

We described the anger together: "It is a tightening. I feel it start in my toes, and work up to my belly, and come flying out my fists and mouth."

We practiced tightening up and feeling it and pretending that we were very very angry.

We then talked about solutions. I taught him about counting to ten and thinking and taking deep breaths. I showed him how to punch a pillow, but he didn't like that idea. I gave him a piece of paper and a pen and asked him to draw scribbly circles really fast on it. He settled on counting to 10.

We made a plan. If he felt that anger bubbling up, he was to remove himself right away. His safe place was his room. I asked him if he wanted me to be a part of it or to leave him alone. He asked me to follow him when he felt explosive. After he left, he was to begin his counting to ten and deep breathing.

Now he had skills. The next time he started to become angry and ready to lash out, I reminded him of our "plan". We ran to his room, he did his deep breathing, and he caught himself before he got too angry.

After a few times, he didn't seem to need to follow the plan anymore. He had successfully "reprogrammed" himself to react more appropriately.

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Hang onto your hats...the terrific twos have arrived!

I've just been on vacation again, which I love, and low and behold, my daughter has decided to exercise her independence and her lungs (which incidentally work very well). I remember well with the boys that age three was much more challenging than age two. So, I have been under the mistaken impression that I had over a year left before the true roller coaster ride began. Yeah...not so much.

It happened so quickly!. One minute my sweet girly was following me around and doing exactly as I said showing others that I truly am the best mother (You all know this is a joke right?). Then, as if a switch had been flipped, she began crying and wailing at the drop of a hat. She now collapses to the ground in frustration if she doesn't get her way. Not only does she not come when I call, she turns the other way and bolts. She doesn't like to hold my hand in parking lots anymore, and she stiffens like a 2X4 when I try to put her in her carseat. All-in-all, taking her anywhere and requesting something of her is not the pleasant experience it was even three weeks ago.

How I love this girl though! I know I'm in for a ride over the next 18+ years, but something about this behavior feel comforting this time around. I know she is growing up, moving on, and going through each stage just as she should. It's my rose-colored glasses approach to parenting during a difficult situation.

On a particularly trying day of melt-down after melt-down, I was at an art fair buying some photos. My busy little toddler was trying to spin around the photo card display to see if she could make the cards fly off. I didn't feel the artist would find this nearly as amusing as my little one so I stopped her from spinning by saying, "Not for baby" and gently held her hands back. She immediately melted to the ground into a pile of baby goo. She added screeching for good measure. Being a bit stuck and in the middle of the transaction, all I could do was pluck her off the ground and tuck her under my arm until I could high tail it out of there. She continued flailing about and wailing while I finished.

After removing her, I had to put her down or risk her wiggling so vigorously that I would drop her. I placed her on the parking lot and gently followed her head down with my hands so it wouldn't hit the pavement. Then, I stepped aside while she laid there in protest. She began to risk injuring herself by rolling about so I picked her rigid body up and placed it on the grass instead. Still, she remained upset. I talked to her gently, and tried to coax her to come with me. She would quiet down until I would try to pick her up. Then, she would start screeching and flailing again until I left her alone.

During my wait, I thought about all the years I'd been a parent. I tried hard to remember the other kids doing this same thing. What did I do? When did it end? I ran down all the bad advice I'd ever received. None of that seemed right either. I decided to wait it out.

Just as I was getting worn out and tired of this mess, a woman walked up to me. She had watched this whole scene play out unnoticed by me. I was prepared for the worst, but she said to me, "I remember being in your shoes. It's so hard. You are doing the right thing. You are such a good mother.". My jaw nearly dropped. I told her, "You don't know how much I need to hear that right now. I don't think many people would agree with how I'm handling this." She replied, "I agree with you."

So to all of my readers, please remember, You are good parents. When you think you are at the end of your rope, there are many other parents hanging on there with you. If no one else comes up to you and tells you that you are doing a good job, picture me telling you. I'm on your side. I'm your personal cheerleader.

And how did it end? My feisty little one eventually decided that getting snuggles and kisses from Mommy was much better than laying on the ground under a tree. The eventual nap also worked its magic.