Wednesday March 26th, 2008
Dealing with a two-year-old tantrum in the middle of a crowded zoo could never be categorized as a fun outing.
She melted into a toddler puddle on the ground when we needed to let another child have a turn on the stationary play truck. She screamed and kicked and tried to climb out of my arms. Her tears turned into a runny nose, she arched and then she tried to pull the backpack from my back bruising my arm. She wouldn’t be distracted by anything: bright orange birds, a passing train, or even a playground. It was as if she was determined to shriek at the top of her vocal range and she was not going to be quieted.
We had only been there about 40 minutes (she yelled for 30 minutes: not a good ratio) and we had just begun to look at the animals. Of course my six-year-old was unhappy at her sister’s screams and the prospect of leaving so soon, but there was no other option. She wasn’t satisfied with the quick trip through the aviary and the race between the monkey enclosures to get back to the car.
So we left.
After tantruming the first half of the car ride home, she promptly felll asleep. Almost in an instant. Like she had given up and given in and was too tired to fight anything anymore, including her own sleepy eyes.
After her nap she was happy, and rested and giggly. She didn’t offer an apology to me for kicking me. Or for yelling for more than a half-hour. Or for making her sister leave early. She didn’t apologize for bruising my arm, or for rolling around in the dirt on the ground. She didn’t apologize for running away from me when I called for her.
She didn’t need to. Although I am attempting to teach her so say she is sorry when she takes something she shouldn’t or wrongs her sister in some way, this kind of apology is different. And even though I was exhausted from the afternoon escapade, I was not angry. I was not hurt because I know her tantrum was the product of her age and her fatigue.
Her apologies are in her sighs against my shoulder when I get her up from her nap, or her kisses on my cheek, or her happy songs in the backseat on the morning drive to Hope’s school. Her apologies are in her laughter and smiles.
Oh we have had many a day like that with AJ.
Hope tomorrow is a better day!
Our family went to the zoo yesterday too! My blog took a different path, though, cause our froglets are a different age.
Imagine a day when you can enjoy the orange birds… sigh.
It’s tough to balance unconditional love with a child’s age and what they need to develop into a healthy human being someday, isn’t it? To remember not to parent in the moment, but for the future.
God give us grace!
Wow, you handled that so well. My daughter’s tantrums often resulted in tears of my own.
Oh Sarah, I am sorry your outing to the zoo was cut short. Those tantrums can be so exhausting for both mother and child – amazing how a nap can revive them and give them a fresh start. I hope tomorrow is a better day.
May God bless the toddler years. Someday that strong will, will come in handy. I keep trying to convince myself of that fact.
we went to the little atascadero zoo yesterday and matty screamed at the top of his lungs the whole way there. we ate lunch at the park next door before we went in and he was a whole different kid. it’s exhausting but this is real life! love you.
You are SUCH a better mother than me. I’d have been spankin’ a hiney in the bathroom, lol.
What a beautiful post filled with amazing perspective and understanding.
I remember well a tantrum in which I carried my 2-year old kicking and screaming to the car (from a huge mall!) and by the time I buckled him in, he was frothing at the mouth because he was so angry.
He fell asleep, woke up twenty minutes later, PICKED UP WHERE HE LEFT OFF . . . when we got home, I put him in his crib where he finally finished that fit.
I have a picture to prove it and now I think of that almost fondly. He was so cute. (He’s 10 now.)