Tricks, Treats and Tantrums

I was going to start by saying, "Our child has never had a temper tantrum." But that would be obnoxious, if not dishonest. This morning, for instance, went something like this:

Me: It's time to go! Here is your coat!

Child: No coat. NO no no no no nooooo cooooooooaaaat!

Me: Here is your coat [forces coat on child]. Now it's time to go. Let's get in the car. Here we go! [uses fun voice]!

Child: No car nocar nocarnocarnocarnooooooo!!!!!!!! [lays down, hits head on the floor, screams]

Me: Time to get in the car. [carries to car, buckles carseat]

Child: No carseat no buckle no no nooooooo [Kicks. Screams. Defies consolation. Cries for ten solid minutes].

And so he proceeded with "an irrational fit of crying, screaming, defiance, and a resistance to every attempt at pacification in which even physical control is lost," which is Wikipedia's definition of a "tantrum." I'm pretty sure he wanted to bring his Halloween Candy in the car with him, and is angry that I stashed it on top of the refrigerator (he may even suspect, correctly, that I'm eating most of it myself). But since I recently came across the suggestion to avoid using the word "tantrum" at all, I can say he didn't have one. And though this may sound pedantic, or semantic, or even absurd, I’m amazed to find myself really feeling better about the whole morning.

No, I haven’t lost my mind from getting hit over the head with sections of toy railroad track. I’m serious: Letting go of the "tantrum" label has separated my child’s irrational, screaming behavior from my own desperate need to snap him out of it. I've read about all different ways to prevent, control and react to the dreaded Big T, and so far this one little trick has helped me the most.

Labels matter: They're little bits of linguistic shorthand that reduce entire categories of behavior, expectations and perspective to a few short syllables. Since the moment I became pregnant, I've had labels to define all my parenting fears and achievements: When is my "due date?" Will my son hit the "terrible twos?" Is he "potty trained?" When we use labels enough, we take them for granted -- and forget, for instance, that a pregnancy "due date" represents an entire body of research, tradition and cultural expectations about what should happen, when it should happen and how we'll react if it doesn't.

But children operate without language – a gestating baby can’t count to 280, and an overwhelmed toddler doesn’t self-identify as an autonomous person who’s exhibiting a specific behavior pattern called a "tantrum." When my child loses it, he is so saturated with fear and anger that he’s hardly capable of protecting his own body from harm. He might be raging for a variety of reasons – exhaustion, confusion or experimentation, to name a few. It’s only when I choose to label these behaviors that they coalesce into a recurring "event" called a tantrum.

As soon as I let go of the label, I'm free to focus on the bigger picture -- in a way, the conscientious use of language is part of a powerful paradigm shift away from adversarial parenting and toward a mindset of helping my child. So when he goes into an irrational rage, my priorities are something like this: 1. Keep him safe. 2. Keep myself calm. 3. Keep our lives on track. 4. Help him calm down. And, in the long run, I will 5. Teach him the skill of behaving appropriately under stress. For instance, if I’m carrying him through a doorway, I’ll 1. Protect his head (or try to, oops, bonk.) If I’m about to lose it, I’ll 2. Leave him alone and go take a few deep breaths, for my own peace of mind. After that, 3. What we do depends on what needs to be done: If it’s time to go, we’re going out the door, even if he’s got big feelings about it. If it’s time to relax and get in the bath, I’ll devote more time to calming him down. 4. Depending on the child and the situation, this could include rocking, nursing, a bear hug, or leaving them to unwind alone.

Of course, I’ve tried tons of things that don’t work, too. Sometimes it’s easy enough to leave the TV on for five more minutes instead of dealing with the screaming because he can’t watch the end of Little Einsteins. I’ve been known to regret this, but I don’t worry too much about spoiling my child by occasionally accommodating him – I think it’s fair to say, "I didn’t realize this was so important to you," give him a spoon instead of a fork, and quietly move on. On the other hand, I won’t agree to "no diaper" just because he wants to keep playing with his pee-pee (okay I confess I stole that one, but I love it because it is SO TRUE). Some things aren’t optional around here, no matter how upsetting this might be for someone who loves being naked but is too young to clean up his own undiaperedly mess.

And this is where Number 5. comes in -- that we're in the process of teaching him how to behave appropriately even when we're overwhelmed by big feelings. I’m not interested in instigating good behavior by making my child feel bad when he fails. And I'm not all that concerned about "rewarding" his meltdown with some calm attention and help where it's needed. And looking at the big picture, there are lots of things I can control (our routine, meals, rest and exercise) to avoid us getting so burnt out that we become utterly unable to cope.

On the other hand, I don’t go out of my way to be sure he never has bad feelings at all. In fact, when we step back and realize that big, loud feelings aren’t a failure – that they are, in the end, "just feelings" – it’s much easier not to take it personally when a child is overwhelmed with emotion. In fact, simply labeling the emotion (instead of the tantrum), in a calm voice, can be powerful: "You are angry. You want to stay home. So angry." Sometimes, as silly as it sounds out loud, wrapping my calm words around his raging feelings helps me believe that it really might not be that bad.

And I know that as he gets older, my child might start to "tantrum" more strategically. Kids do tend to experiment with the power of their big feelings over the adults around them. It's my hope that, by modulating our own reactions to his outbursts -- and by accepting our own frustration, without using anger to threaten or manipulate our child -- we can set a tone in this family that honestly helps each other through the hard times without being scared of our emotions.

I'm sure it will be an adventure. I have bad days, where I forget all this and we both end up crying on the floor anyway. But on a good day, it’s almost as if I can look down on the whole scene: A screaming and confused little boy soaking wet on the bathroom floor, and an exhausted but calm Mama who's finding her authority and managing to be in control. Who knows she’s strong enough to dry off a thrashing toddler, clean the tub, and find pajamas -- while making a mental note to herself that next year, Halloween candy won't go in the bath in the first place.

I owe my perspective on tantrums, as I do many things, to the work of Crystal Lutton.