Thursday, February 19, 2009

All of this because of a juice pouch

Lately, it doesn't take much to initiate a fit. If I grab the wrong snack, or don't understand what she's trying to say, or if I (heaven forbid) make her put on shoes that match...each other, I can expect a meltdown.

I've been parenting long enough to know that what works best is to just disengage, walk away, and let the tantrum-thrower throw one. They eventually get tired, want a hug, and are much easier to reason with. Until then, though, this little fussbudget likes to use all of her innate dramatic devices to their fullest extent.

She tears off her bow and screams while she falls to the floor, her body stiff as a board.












She screams while she rubs her feet together furiously.












She screams while she contorts her body to get a better view of Mom ignoring her.














When none of that works, she stands up and screams (making sure tears run down her cheeks for full effect).














Then there's the screaming while she looks through her wringing hands, making sure her audience is paying attention.














The screaming-while-I-pinch-myself-so-I-have-an-excuse-to-scream-more move.















"I'm about through Mom, but not before I squeeze my own cheeks and attempt the most pitiful face possible so you'll feel sorry for me."

















She's too young to realize I've been through this five other times so I have an advantage.

She also has no idea how much I'd love to join her.

7 comments:

Annikke said...

That is a great picture story! Love it. You definitely have an advantage over her!

Anonymous said...

I cryed..then I laughed...I miss her sooo much :/.

Love ya'll!!
Sutton

Ginny said...

As for joining her...I'm a quiet person, but when passing through a particularly difficult season, I actually pounded a couch cushion a couple of times. To know me is to know how uncharacteristic it was of me, but I have to confess that it did feel pretty good. One day soon, the sun will look just a little bit brighter. Take your time. You're held lovingly in the hand of our Lord

pshannonpr said...

Ah, fi only we could do this as adults! I think we would feel so much better!!! Even in a tantrum, she looks sooooo cute!

Anonymous said...

I love that story..After 5 kids, our youngest does the same thing...so funny...

Just a note...I'll be praying for you this weekend! :) He is with you - Trust in Him...

Debby Warren

Anonymous said...

Ahhh yes...We are in the throas of this with our soon to be adopted (Please God and CPS )18 month old.

After raising 3 daughters and now raising 4 grandchildren, I have to admit there are days I'd LOVE to join in with my little tantrumee.

None of mine have been quite as cute and photogenic as dramatic little Peyton. I lauged till I cried this morning, reading this. What a lift you've given me on what may well be a difficult day as we havw yet another case worker visit this A.M.

This will neccissitated pulling 2 out of school to wait for a worker who will inevitably be between 45 minutes to 3-4 hours late. Anxiety will ratchet up in easily frightened little ones. By nightfall, we will have lots of tamtrums. I will practice my mantra " Just walk away... walk away". THANKS!

We just love the visiting days of clueless CPS workers, all bright eyed, 22 yrs. young, unmarried, childless, with a BA in art history, 6 months on the job, professing to know all and be all who ineveitably terrify the kids by incautious remaks and foundless predictions leaving us to pick up the pieces..

So, Devin, a big thank you for being God's voice to me this A.M. and re-setting my priorites. You remind me to go forth in joy, not fear.
Sending internet hugs and prayers,
a lurkee,
Barb

TiffanyB said...

While I was ignoring Pace's fit (several yrs ago), I realize the tantrum had stopped. As I came back to check on him, I found a little boy lying on his back, knees bent with one leg crossed over the other - sound asleep. I laughed and left him there until he had "slept it off."