Fine Print: Mommy Tantrums

We all have bad days. Its part of the contract:  unconditional love, heartmelting smiles, loads of adventures and new discoveries, screaming crying epic tantrums.

Yesterday was one of those days. It started out great, both the boys were all smiles for the morning. C napped with no fuss and K was my little buddy while we rearranged the furniture upstairs. When the time arrived for swim lessons, he was so excited that he begged James to come along. Despite his workload, James agreed and we all packed into the car and headed for the Y. Everything was going great, James dropped us at the entrance, K and I ran excitedly into the Y, into the changeroom, hurriedly got changed, dashed to the pool, and abruptly the mood shifted. K refused to get in the pool.

At first, no problem, we start all our 'group' adventures like this. K tends to be anxious, but he loves swimming, so "no worries," I tell myself "this will pass." Five minutes pass, and he'll sit on the edge of the pool, but won't get in. Ten minutes, still refusing. Twenty minutes, now class is almost over. Twenty-five minutes, all the kids are going down the slide, and K is still outside the pool. And I've been patient, I'm the only mom left standing by the pool instead of in the viewing area, and he's the only kid not participating. James is smiling at me through the viewing window. There's 5 minutes left and now I'm done being patient, so I tell K we're done and going to get changed.

And that's the moment. The moment when he goes to being a scared kid who's still endearing enough to get away with it, to the bratty kid who's throwing a fit and is old enough to know better. Now he wants to go in the water. Now he's crying because we have to leave.

Usually in this type of situation I would just scoop him up and go home. But he's wet, and in only a swim suit, so in this midst of his screaming and flailing I have to attempt to quickly get him changed. Not an easy task, the change rooms are crowded, and he's slippery, and his suit is sticking, and he's screaming, "No, No, NO NO!", and I'm mortified.  I'm embarrassed, and angry, and I just want to get out of there. I can feel people watching us. I can hear the whispers. In the midst of all this chaos, I'm still "calm"(although I must be red as a plum because I blush when I'm embarrassed). I'm just focused on escaping, when I feel a hand on my shoulder and a women's voice in my ear,

"Its okay, we've all been there."

I muster a small smile, finish getting our boots on, and drag K out of there. It was a very sweet, genuine gesture, and I appreciated it. But as I climbed into the car, completely defeated, K still yelling, I broke down and had my own little tantrum. I cried the whole ride home. Lucky James, what a day to come to swimming!!

Apparently tantrums come at all ages, and as much as "We've all been there" it certainly doesn't feel like that in the moment. In the moment it feels like all eyes are on you. It feels like you must be lacking some fundamental parenting skill. In the moment it just feels bad.

Today will be better.... I hope

Fineprint: The Meal-Time Battles

As my mom can surely attest to, growing up I was the pickiest eater around. I survived for a year on chicken noodle soup and Vegetable Thins crackers, not because of a lack of wonderful home cooked meals, but because any attempt to feed me something new resulted in an hour at the table filled with tears, tantrums, and likely gagging as I filled my mouth with milk with every swallow. It was awful.

Because of my personal history I have approached cooking for my children with the expectation that majority of my dishes will not meet my children's approval, and I'm okay with that. Ketchup has become my weapon of choice in the dinnertime battle, because most things if drenched in ketchup will make it past the taste test. K is way worse than C. C will eat most of what's presented as long as no vegetable is within sight. And I'm okay with this. Usually I can sneak in some fruit slices or a yogurt onto the plate and I tell myself that this portion of healthy food will offset the not-so-healthy frozen fish sticks or kraft dinner. I signed up for mealtime battles, it was all part of the contract, but I missed the fine print.

See, the thing that gets me, the part that actually does hurt my ego, is that my kids will basically eat anything that they find. For over a year K would sneak a piece of dog food every time my back was turned. I can't make him stop eating snow despite the frequest leaves and dirt and "other" items that he's swallowed in the process. I've actually seen him lick the dog. And C's just as bad. Granted he's only 17 months, but last weekend, visiting friends, he not once but twice found a piece of sidewalk chalk to chomp down on and made a huge tantrum when I took it away.

So it begs the question, is my cooking really so awful that the critics would rather eat crayons than try a spoonful of soup? Is my pizza so terrible that an after dinner dog biscuit is preferable?

I'm sure like everything else it's a phase. Most 10 year olds will clear a plate of "normal" food...right? and I guess I always have a fall-back: 10 years of a rotating meal plan of Kraft Dinner and Macaroni & Cheese. It might not be my ideal menu, but it sure beats kibbles and bits :)