A Raging Case of Toddler
The bean has not been herself lately. She was an easy baby, easy being a relative term, of course, considering she was entirely helpless and dependent on me for every human need except oxygen. But she was charming, good natured, and only cried when hungry, tired, or fed up with being in her car seat.
She is now 15 months old, and I hardly recognize her. She only wants to go to my husband. She cries constantly because I won’t let her [insert dangerous activity here, e.g., walk around with a razor, eat egg shells, climb into the refrigerator.] She used to throw herself backwards in fits of rage, but I think she got tired of hitting her head, so she now lowers herself onto all fours and angrily sobs into the carpet.
Does it bother me? No, of course not! She’s just becoming a toddler, and this is a normal and important stage of her development. I’m proud to be raising a strong-willed little girl. So I don’t take it personally when I go to get her from her nap, and she walks to the other side of her crib and stares at the wall.
It certainly doesn’t hurt my feelings when she throws herself on the ground in a pile of hysterical tears because I try to read Little Fur Family to her instead of my husband.
I obviously don’t feel wounded when I, feeling proud of myself for working straight from 6am to 5pm and still making it in time to pick her up from daycare, get pinched as I carry her out to the car.
And how could I feel rejected when she tries to throw pebbles into my face on my 35th birthday because I won’t let her walk into the street?
And I certainly don’t feel devastated that my favorite person in the whole world, who I carried – in my belly– for 9.5 months and brought into this world after 28 hours of labor, finds me repellant. Nope, not bothered.
The bean has been crying so much lately that I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for her yesterday. Maybe the mood swings and tantrums are tied to an ear infection that can be cured with a little amoxicillin! Now, did I have a second to spare for a doctor’s appointment yesterday? Not really, considering the multiple documents I had to get out the door, conference calls with clients, and a meeting to check out a back-up daycare while her current daycare is closed for summer vacation. Still, if there’s a chance I can get my sweet little friend back (good thing that doesn’t sound needy), I’m going to do it.
The appointment was scheduled for 11:15, and I had a call I had to take at 11. So, naturally, at 10:50, I was sitting on my couch in pajamas, revising documents and emailing my client about questions I still needed answered. I threw on some clothes that I wore last weekend but had never put away, and ran to my car. As I got in, I remembered that I was out of gas. No time for gas, good thing we live at the top of a hill! I drove to daycare, picked up the bean and put her in her car seat, and made my call on speaker phone, hoping she’d stay quiet while we coasted on fumes to the doctor’s office.
We were five minutes late to the doctor, but they consistently keep us waiting, so I felt fine about it. When the doctor came in, she looked in the bean’s ears and found a little redness. It appears she has had a minor ear infection, but nothing serious enough to be causing all of the bean’s recent tantrums. The true diagnosis is that she has a raging case of toddler. It will improve with time, but in the meantime, I need to develop a thicker skin.
My husband does not take the bean’s tantrums personally. My first response is to say he doesn’t take them personally because she goes to him when she’s upset, but that’s not the only reason. The truth is, he doesn’t take them personally because he doesn’t have parent guilt. Both of his parents worked full time, so he went to daycare and preschool and the YMCA’s after school program, and he had a happy childhood.
I, on the other hand, was home with my mom until I started kindergarten. I was raised with the paradigm that a mom stays home with her kids and cooks them breakfast, lunch, and dinner for 18 years (or more if, like me, your kids keep moving home after college…) Now that I don’t fulfill that role, I feel guilty. The last two weeks at work have been really busy, and this busy period coincided with the bean’s tantrums, so I have interpreted them as a response to my absence. In other words, she is crying so much and favoring my husband because I have not been around enough.
I don’t know if I am interpreting the bean’s moods correctly. I tend to think I am not, but either way, I think it’s time to ditch the raging case of mom guilt. I work, and will continue to work. And the bean, despite her tantrums, is a happy, confident (too confident?), and well-adjusted little monster.