For the most part, I much prefer writing about the fun stuff the kids get up to, rather than the trials and tribulations. But as every parent knows it's not always plain sailing. Hardly ever, in fact. And I'm thinking back to yesterday's events with astonishment and how a calm and logical parent (that's me, ahem, ok, sometimes calm and occasionally logical parent) can turn into an angry monster at the mercy of a tired 3 year old's tantrum.
A tantrum of volcanic proportions...
which can erupt over the tiniest of things.
Yesterday, because I wanted Little Miss to wear a cardigan
Me: Please can you put your cardigan on.
LM: Faff, ignore Mummy, faff
Me: Please put your cardigan on. It's cold.
LM: Faff, play with toys, faff, ignore Mummy
Me: Please don't make me ask you again, put on your cardigan PLEASE
LM: Don't want to
Me: Well, Mummy's asked you to
LM: I don't WANT to
Me: Mummy's asked you to so please put your cardigan on.
LM: I DON'T WAAANT TO
Me: Right, if you don't put that cardigan on you're going on the naughty step.
LM: Tears, stamping, I DON'T WAAAAAANT TOOOOO
Me: You do as you're told!
LM: I DON'T WAAAAAAAAAAANT TOOOOOOOO. I'M NOT GGGGGGOOOOOOOOOINIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGG TO. WAAAAAAAAAH WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.
Me: DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!
Ok, so it's just a cardigan. Why am I making such a fuss? Well, the problem is this:
Deep down inside you think, if I let this one go, the next thing you know I'll be staring into the face of a 16 year old teenager screaming that yes, damn it, she IS going to see her boyfriend and there's not a damn thing YOU can do about it before you're left standing in the draft of a slammed front door.
But the thing with fear is that it often comes out as anger, and before I know it I'm yelling at her like a Chav knowing the whole time that This. Isn't. Helping. And she's screaming louder and louder. And I'm getting angrier and angrier.
Eventually, I run out of ideas and like a petulant teenager I say say "Fine, suit yourself" and give her the I'm-going-to-ignore-you-now treatment. She yells a little bit longer before calming down. Now that she's stopped yelling I calm down.
Later that afternoon she's had a sleep and she's telling me that she loves me and I tell her that I love her and we snuggle up on the sofa to do a jigsaw.
That night I hit the red wine and drown in guilt over my shouting. But I'm hoping that it's a good lesson learned. Next time I get angry I'll count to ten, I'll switch on the tap and pour a glass of water, I'll employ any number of distraction techniques and I Will Stay Calm.
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