Squidge has recently begun to discover that not only is he not the centre of the universe but that the universe has no interest in revolving around him, much to his annoyance. This new development in his little life has lead to more than one tantrum as he discovers the limit of his ability to influence the world around him and make things turn out the way he wants.
In this post I’ve listed the things that have caused a Squidge to have tantrum over the last few days…and the things that made me want to throw my very own mummy-sized tantrum, particularly when faced with a two foot tall horror intent on loudly informing me exactly how unhappy he is about the fact that I can’t pick up the toy he dropped on the floor of the car because I’m driving down the middle lane of the motorway.
Reasons for Having a Tantrum: Squidge –
I asked him if he could possibly choose another book out of the dozens that he has, instead of insisting I re-read the same story for the fifth time in a row. Apparently having a bookcase all of your very own doesn’t mean you should actually try to diversify your reading and instead should stick to wanting the same three stories over and over (and over) again.
I refused to share my breakfast with him because we were both eating exactly the same thing. Apparently my breakfast bowl has the power to transform the boring food he’s been given into something far more interesting and magical, which obviously I need to share with him.
I took his dirty nappy off.
I put his clean nappy on.
I insisted on removing the grapes he’d stashed in his hair and then trying to wipe the sticky grape juice off his head when he was clearly saving them for later and I’d just ruined his afternoon snack preparations.
I wouldn’t let him pull my glasses off my face nor would I let him lick them.
I put him down for a nap when he absolutely wasn’t tired and the droopy eyes and nodding head were absolutely NOT a sign of being sleepy and clearly I just wanted him to go to bed so that I could have five minutes all to myself.
I wouldn’t let him eat crayons in the bath and was then unreasonable enough to try and fish the lump of blue crayon out of his mouth while he was still chewing it and then, horror of horrors, I PUT IT IN THE BIN!!
I went to the bathroom all by myself and, despite the fact that I’ve come back every single time for as long as he can remember (which admittedly isn’t all that long), it could have been the time when I decided to leave him FOREVER!!
I wouldn’t let him play with the bath toy he dropped in the toilet (I turned my back for all of five seconds) until I’d cleaned it with bleach. Apparently a clean, non-germy toy isn’t remotely interesting and so he decided to chew the taps instead (and screamed when I attempted to stop him).
I wasn’t able to simultaneously pick up and put down the toy car he handed me and my inability to bend the laws of physics was clearly just laziness on my part.
I failed to notice the exact second that he wanted to get off the swing and then once I had noticed I was too slow in stopping the swing and lifting him out of the seat, despite the fact that he also didn’t want to let go of the chain.
Reasons for Having a Tantrum: Mummy –
I’d read the same story five times in row and at this point could probably quote it entirely from memory while resisting the urge to lob said book out of the window and then fain ignorance as to its whereabouts ( and glugging a very large and well deserved gin and tonic).
Despite the fact that I have never yet dropped him, Squidge insists on grabbing my top (in manner of mountain climber anchoring himself to a cliff face) whenever I pick him up. Due to the combination of over large post-pregnancy boobs and toddler death grip I ended up flashing everyone in the park…on a Saturday…during the school holidays. Let’s just say the park was somewhat busy when this happened.
Squidge was happily playing with his cars until he saw me get the laptop out and decided that a game of car crashes (with the laptop screen as the road) was just the thing I needed to help me do the online food shop.
I wanted to eat my lunch in peace (after waiting an hour for Squidge to finish his) without having someone pointing at my plate and shouting ‘MORE’, even though there was no way they could possibly still be hungry and just wanted what I was eating because it was mine goddammit.
We were supposed to be going to toddler group but apparently Squidge forgot the basics of anatomy and thought that the yogurt he was ‘eating’ for lunch was supposed to go in his hair as opposed to in his mouth.
I just wanted to sit on the bathroom floor for five minutes (and maybe have a nap) without having bath toys chucked at my head and a sopping wet flannel lovingly draped over my back. (Maybe he thought it would make a good blanket, who knows).
Despite having an entire bookcase all of his own, Squidge insists on pulling my books off the shelves and attempting to ‘read’ them before throwing them away in disgust at their complete lack of pictures. Several of my books are now somewhat battered and sporting fetching creases all over their covers.
I really wanted to be able to go to the loo on my own without having to listen to Squidge rattling the stairgate and howling like a rabid werewolf when, for the entirety of his life, I have never yet not come back from the bathroom and today isn’t going to be the day when I escape out of the window and run away to Bora Bora.
I know that the tantrums are only going to get more spectacular over the next few years until Squidge learns that there are (usually) far more effective methods of getting what you want than turning bright red and screaming like a banshee. Apparently the so-called ‘terrible twos’ can begin at around 18 months and last far beyond any age that can be even remotely classed as being a toddler. However, I’m also reliably informed that they don’t last forever and that one day I will be the proud owner of a child who asks for things in a calm and polite manner instead of pointing and shouting.
Until then you’ll find me sat in the bathroom, wearing a wet flannel as a cape and wondering whether I would actually fit through the window.
Louise is a full time mum, a part time neonatal nurse and award nominated blogger who has battled depression for many years but was particularly ill during her pregnancy. She lives with her husband (the Northern One) their little boy (Squidge) and their three guinea pigs who live in the kitchen.
Louise blogs at 23weeksocks (http://23weeksocks.com) about lots of different (and seemingly unconnected) topics that she’s passionate about, including mental health, antenatal depression, neonatal care and baby loss. She’s also involved in #MatExp (https://www.facebook.com/groups/MatExp/); an online maternity experience campaign that was formed to help improve maternity services in the UK. As part of this she hosts the #MatExpHour Twitter chat every Friday and would love to see you there.