With all the advice you get as an expecting parent and as a new parent, nothing prepares you for the tantrums. They’re just tiny, cute, angry AF people with the rage of a million Spartans looking for vengeance.
You try to reason with them. NOPE. You try to bribe them. NOPE. You try to comfort them. HOW DARE YOU. You try to reprimand them. IT GETS WORSE. You walk away to let them be. HOW COULD YOU BETRAY ME MOMMY.
You literally can’t win when the tantrum starts, and it sometimes can feel debilitating. As a parent, you’re stuck trying to figure out why they’re so upset, and how to comfort them. At the same time, you will also feel frustration, irritation, and sometimes anger, which eventually plays into the guilt of feeling like an asshole because you know they can’t control themselves, but you just want their tantrum to be over already!
But honestly, why is parenting riddled with so much guilt? As if we don’t have enough to worry about already!
It takes every ounce of your being to not lose your shit. Because you’re the adult, and they’re still figuring out how to handle being miserable. Everything is overwhelming, and it’s our job to teach them. We know we shouldn’t lose our shit, but it’s sometimes inevitable.
It’s hard. It’s so damned hard. It’s not easy not to lose your shit. You literally have to rewire your brain to not lose your shit. Oh, and let’s not forget about how much people judge you for your kids losing their shit in public, especially during shopping runs.
Yes, old lady in the biscuit aisle shaking your head me, judging my son for the racket. I’m talking about you.
Yes, man looking at me sideways because my son is throwing a fit because I won’t let him knock over every pasta bag in the aisle, I’m talking about you.
But some people are still awesome.
Like the kind, salt-and-pepper haired man our 4-hour flight from Texas to San Francisco, who understood our hysterical baby was not something we control. He saw the rude air hostesses upturning their noses as us, and waved away any negativity by simply smiling at us empathetically. I’ve been there,” he said. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about disturbing people. You’ve got this.”
Like the other parents at the grocery store at 9pm on a weekday, giving each other a smile as if saying “it’s okay if it’s past bedtime. They’ll survive and so will we!”
Thank you, check-out lady, who offered a trinket to distract my son from his mischief making, saving me from being a stressed-out mess.
I just want to extend a thank you to those of you out there who understand that sometimes, we just can’t control our kids. As hard as we try, it’s not always possible, and it’s not anyone’s fault, because they’re still learning.
Thank you, understanding people, who don’t point a finger and shake your heads in disgust at my toddler’s meltdown. With all the judging and the unrealistic idea that women must be the perfect mother, I am very thankful for those quietly helping me to retain my humanity while raising a little one.