Posted by Josie on Jul 20, 2010 in Uncategorized | 30 comments
Kai has always had a bit of a temper.
It was one of the first observations made about him actually, at barely a day old, the midwife holding up this tiny, rigid, screaming bundle, him emptying his lungs with a cry that made the metal bed vibrate, the bed I remember banging my shins on over and over as I jumped up to try and get to him before he woke the whole ward. Frustration and rage even then, breastfeeding proving quickly to be problematic as he wanted milk NOW but didn’t have the patience to try and latch, his intense and almost instant frustration lasting what felt like hours until he calmed down enough to try again . Over and over I would try, trying to coax him to calm down and stay still long enough to just OPEN YOUR MOUTH CHILD IT’S RIGHT THERE, just to have a little patience. Just TRY baby, please my darling, please just try.
We got through it. After two hard weeks Kai was latching well, barely coming off at all to be quite honest and there he stayed, thriving, for 18 months. We got there.
But that anger, it’s continued to weave it’s way through the day to day. That unfocused, immature mix of fear and confusion and some instinctual sense of it JUST NO BEING FAIR MUM. It was in the not-wanting-to-be-put-down, in the not-ever-EVER-mummy of sleeping alone, or even sleeping at all at times. No matter how firm or persistent or how many well-meaning books I read, soon disregarded to be used to prop up the cot an angle as suggested by ANOTHER book, and then the un-slept-in cot abandoned altogether in favour of just doing whatever bloody worked.
It was in the absolutely-not-drinking-out-of-that-plastic-thing mummy, or eating-ANYTHING-off-a-spoon mummy. It was in the temperature-must-be-exactly-right mummy.
It was in the it-must-only-ever-be-YOU mummy.
It was in every thing.
And we worked through them. All of them.
You wouldn’t think it. To look at him, to meet him. That’s always been the irony. He is such a calm, serious child. You get it right – and we have for the most part, life carefully arranged to suit what he needed – you get it RIGHT and this boy could win prizes for his exemplar angelic behaviour. With those blue eyes shining, those blond curls sitting pretty on top, that full, if rather hard-won smile, who would doubt he is anything but a model child?
“He’s so GOOD!” they gush at me. And he is, he really is. He is a super star. I am so proud of him. Proud of the way he shines in company and thrives on interaction and different environments, such a change from the problems of a few months back. He is good. Whatever ‘good’ means.
But he is not easy.
Kai started having temper tantrums about eight months ago, just about the time he learnt to walk. Proper temper tantrums, not just crying. Those angry, screaming, fist-pumping, full body kicking, plank-like, spectacular floor and buggy and bed shows. He has stamina this child, half an hour or more, not a hope of distracting him out of them. And never in company of course, oh no, or very rarely. Those everyday, just me, or just me and his dad, days. When you just need to GET STUFF DONE, and aren’t able to give him that constant interaction and variety and amusement he so seems to crave.
“Just you wait!”, people would say, as they so love to do. “Just you wait for the terrible twos!” But honestly? I didn’t believe them. Because it couldn’t get much worse than this, right?
Last night Kai proved to me just how laughingly wrong I was. Ten days after turning two it seems that the Terrible Twos have well and truly arrived. And oh BOY! Don’t you just love the way the universe loves to prove a point!
An hour. Over an hour. Of the most intense, animal, hysterical screaming and flailing and head banging and VOMIT! Oh yes! That was a fun new addition. Screaming until he was hoarse, in fact, until all that came out was husky, muted noise, but still he kicked and fought and NO’d with his whole body.
All because I wouldn’t hold his hand to sleep. A habit I had taken weeks to break some time ago, the last vestiges of the I-won’t-sleep-alone days, only for me to relent one night, one night like last night, and then for it take MORE weeks to break again.
I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t going through all that again.
So I didn’t. I stood firm. I sat with him and talked to him but I did not hold his hand. And he screamed until he couldn’t scream any more and passed out in a little exhausted ball of sweat and anger and sadness.
Needless to say I was broken, running from his room and the house the second his head finally hit the pillow. Running and running and just not stopping because I had to get OUT. Away. Two hours of breathing and walking and my heart still raced. My sensitive nerves frazzled with sound and my sensitive heart frazzled with emotion. I never, ever knew how physically stressful dealing with this sort of temper can be.
I know it will pass. I know he is frustrated, that the lack of speech and difficulty expressing himself is a part of it and THAT will pass. He starts nursery soon which I think I will make a huge difference, if only to give me a BREAK! I know that we will get through this just like we got through everything else.
But right now?
It is hard. It is really, really hard.
I just needed to say that.
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Thanks to everyone on Twitter for their support last night. All the stress was tempered with some very, very exciting news today which I will share as soon as I can. Life-changing news. News that make temper tantrums suddenly feel a lot more bearable
Updates very soon xx
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porridgebrain Reply:
July 23rd, 2010 at 7:04 pm
Thank you. Hugs are always good. Wine is better… but hugs are good
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