Tantrum

Today was a Bad Day. Nothing drastic, preemie or feeding related for once, just for being a toddler. I remember reading somewhere a description of the "lovable appallingness" that is toddlers, which today was spot on but missing a little bit of the lovability. Wriggles had a horrifically tantrum filled day. She has started to have some, notably on hearing the word "no", but today was of epic proportions. I think there was a maximum of half an hour, often far less between tantrums. Nearly every one ended with her pinching me which invariably made things worse.

They were about:

•  I wanted to change her nappy
• I needed to button up her shirt
• The lid of the felt tip pen wouldn't come off quickly enough
• It wasn't the colour she wanted
• SHE wanted to colour in the hedgehog picture, despite having given me the pen and picture and having crawled off with Christmas Hedgehog
• The cardboard box I keep felt tips in wouldn't close
• The cardboard box I keep felt tips in then did close
• I wouldn't let her sabotage my radio
• I couldn't guess first time which book she wanted by a vague point at the bookshelf
• She wanted her ride-on and it wasn't right there but halfway across a small room
• I was too close
• I was too far away
• I wanted to join in her game
• I was busy doing something else
• I told her off for pinching me
• Mouse was still in the cot, not the living room
• She got bored of The Gruffalo halfway through
• I wanted to put her socks on
• She wouldn't get off a chair
• The physio wanted her to put her shoes on
• She wanted to climb on the windowsill
• She still wanted to climb on the windowsill
• She really wanted to climb on the windowsill
• I needed to go and get some groceries (and have a breath of fresh air from the flat)
• The magazine didn't tear up easily
• She couldn't launch herself head first off the sofa
• She got told off for pinching
• She wanted to watch Driver Dan's Storytrain sat on her ride-on, not the floor
• Her favourite book wasn't where she wanted it to be
• I wouldn't let her stab herself in the eye with my fork
• She poked herself in the eye with a breadstick
• I wanted to put her pyjamas on

And on that note, I am making a very strongly caffeinated beverage and possibly digging for the bottle of rum gathering dust. I have eaten a lump of cheese and may emigrate in the middle of the night leaving Christmas Hedgehog and his younger toy hedgehog friend Noodle in charge. If you would like to arrange a child swap of a gentle and well behaved angelic soul, please contact me.

"OW!"

Children are many things, but one thing they definitely are are great levellers. They are excellent at humbling us older "wiser" types by themselves and their defiant innocence and are also good at breaking down barriers between fellow parents that otherwise loom large. I think all us parents are guilty in some capacity of having looked at other parents whom often we know next to nothing about and view aspects of their child rearing with contempt, mild horror or snobbery. I would never do that, we might think. MY child would never dream of doing ... [insert here]....

Until of course, they do.

Even the most perfect and well behaved cherubs have off days. Even the nicest ones learn by pushing boundaries or going a bit loopy. Sometimes the little horrors that we adore and idolise have several off days in a row, leaving you wondering where an earth you went wrong.

In the early days, fresh with enthusiasm and ideals about How I Would Do Things, I thought I had a fairly watertight plan of action to things. Fast forward almost 2 years, and weary cynicism has crept in and the rulebook, or at least dratted baby books and parenting manuals, have been thrown out the window or are being used as doorstops. Of course I still make snap judgements about others much as I'd prefer to say I didn't, but now I do have more compassion for other strained parents and care far less about what anyone might think in turn of me. Not because anything is vastly different, just that like many of us down the road of parenthood, I have realised that babies and toddlers have personalities. They have wills of irons, minds of their own and some inherent behaviour that I swear they swap in code at baby groups that they all seem to do at one stage or another. Even the really nice ones.

And so, today I got bitten for the first time.

Wriggles was having a tantrum. She is teething and it was hot all day. Refusing to nap, I tried in desperation to get her to listen to storytime at the library. She crawled off and went up and down the stairs, shrieking loudly as she went. God forbid, a little boy was in her path, listening innocently to the lady reading a circle of angels a story. Shriek shriek shriek. To try and save the sanity of the little group who were previously shrouded in peace, I removed my small child to go and menace somewhere a few metres away instead. She roared in defiance. I was enjoying THAT PATCH OF CARPET! (I think was the translation). In her thrashings of displeasure, she gave herself a very minor bump of the head which made her even crosser and then sunk her teeth into my arms.

Then I broke the peace of the library and emitted a surprised and pained "OW!"

Although I was surprised at the timing, I was not surprised at the bite. I have been semi-expecting to get bitten at least once, as all the offspring of people I know (apart from those owning the very small) and those I don't whom I may have earwigged on, have been bitten in retaliation, confusion or experimentation by now. I have been under no illusion that I have a child so angelic she would never do such a thing, but have been suspiciously waiting for her to strike and pick her moment. Wriggles is far from a thug, but she is a toddler. A teething toddler who is beginning to discover the power of "no" and not always getting her own way. I do hope it is a one off, but I suspect it is heralding the departure of my snuggly baby and arrival of a foot stomper but (please!) equally delightful toddler-proper.

Like I warily expected the inevitable nibbling of my arm (nibbling sounds too gentle; I have marks to prove it) I expect her to shout at me, have tantrums, mortify me in public, cause me to snap and probably as a teenager tell me I've ruined her life at least once a year if not once a week. Not because I expect or think that she will be a badly behaved child, just that she is a child. And children make mistakes and learn and err, exercise their emotions for want of a better phrase! Even those where the sun shines from every orifice are not perfect. At least they are, possibly, but not every single moment of every day. Which means likewise, there probably isn't a perfect parent out there all the time. Even those that seem to have tripped out of a Boden catalogue with their 2.4 families, pedigree dog and Aga have crap moments when they curse the fruit of their loins and all their teeth/chattering/insults/mess/toys left out ripe for tripping over. 


I just wish they told you earlier!

A Day of Two Halves

If ever there was a day of getting out on the wrong side of bed, today was it. I only have one side of bed, but obviously today it was Wrong. 


I had a rare lie-in until 08:20 (thanks Wriggles!) but awoke in grouch-mode and it got worse and worse. I intended to get ready early and go out before 10 to take Wriggles to soft play before lunch in the hope of tiring her out a bit so she might re-take up napping in the daytime and thus start sleeping a bit more normally at night times. Partly due to the rain and mostly due to my ineptitude, we weren't both ready until gone 11. Wriggles was driving me up the wall, only content to throw everything off my bookshelf constantly ad shriek at me if I dared correct her from reading books upside down (not a deliberate attempt to spoil fun: she can and has for months read them the 'right' way and now her upside-down-and-back-to-front method is very rough, breaks the spine of all the books and thus makes the pages likely to fall out. She has developed superhuman strength and can easily destroy a board book) or suggest that she could do something, anything, other than book flinging either with or without me. I discovered I had missed a series of payments on things so had to do some organising and grovelling which is never nice, and finally wrapped up a parcel to post to a dear friend who is having a baby shower this weekend, which I cannot afford to go to (WHY do airlines charge practically an adult fare for infants who will after all, only be sat on your lap with no luggage?). There wasn't a proper reason for getting cross, especially with Wriggles who after all was only being a toddler, but I found myself getting increasingly wound up and stressed with everything. The washing up pile haunted me, reminding me that I was rubbish at doing things when I knew I should and I felt tired and a bit overwhelmed by just life.

By the time we left, it was pouring down but I could not stand to stay inside. I know from prior experience, being couped up with a full of beans Wriggles in destroy mode is not a recipe for a happy day. We had a nice hour where we go some jobs done, called in on our recently retired childminder who was delighted to see the Wriggly one and had some lunch . Then the trouble brewed again as I tried to persuade the baggy-eyed and yawning child to have a nap. Just five minutes (or preferably twenty if you're asking). She looked sleepy. She has until very recently, had a hour or longer nap after lunch to recharge her batteries. This has suddenly turned into a battle meaning by 5pm she is a whining and exhausted child and bedtime is frankly a miracle when it eventually occurs. We walked around the park. We walked around the park again. We had some top-up milk. We walked around the park some more. In the rain. An hour later, with a very frayed temper I gave up. 

It is very rare I am grumpy with Wriggles or tell her off seriously. I do employ "No!" at appropriate moments ("NO Wriggles do not turn the TV on or off/grab plug sockets/climb onto the toilet/throw your dinner on the floor") but partly I've never really had cause to tell her off and partly I'm terrible at it as I instantly feel terrible. I'm not talking about dodging discipline, but shouting for the sake of a bad or frazzled mood over something that doesn't warrant that level of reprimand. I know it was wrong to snap at her, but snap I did. What with working and managing everything on my own from baby things to finances to the sodding washing up (where, where does it come from!) when it gets to the end of the week, a hard week of sleep regression, a frustrating previous day at work, then to be honest I need Wriggles' nap as much as she does. Just to get fifteen minutes or so to me. Just to sit down without guilt and breathe a sigh of relief. Just to know that the whining will almost-probably be cut out later. Just to have a cup of coffee that is still hot. Just to stop being two parents rolled into one with eyes in the back of my head and enough patience to shame a saint, for a tiny tiny fraction of time. I was cross and I told her off. I'm not proud of it. At all. But it was that or burst into tears. Needless to say, it did nothing. With defeat and now over an hour lost, I gave up and chalked it up to my list of failings and headed into soft play. As I paid the entrance fee, I knew full well that she wouldn't last the two hours it gives you but by now we both needed somewhere neutral and shrieking friendly.


And actually it did the trick. I chilled out and relaxed especially as Wriggles clambered over me. Seeing her cackling away to herself trying to climb the wrong way up the slide reminded me why I love her completely. I helped her perfect her clambering skill, which I suspect I may regret. It was rather hot in there, and as time passed Wriggles began to concern me slightly. She was getting very sweaty and clammy; I removed her t-shirt and clipped her face back. She was still very hot. In horror, I watched a bright rash spread across her arms and chest. It was very red and very spotty. Whether fever or heat rash it was hard to tell. Gradually it faded as I tried to cool her down and my bed time it is as if it had never been there. It is horrible moment though when your heart leaps into your mouth and panic is suddenly everywhere! We came home without even and had a cuddle that put the world, or at least mine, to right.


This week has been a little ray of bliss in terms of Wriggles' feeding. We have tried:

• Mummy's sandwich
• Mummy's cake
• Strips of pitta bread
• Wafers
• A bit of buttered roll 
• A vegetarian sausage 

...which have all gone down relatively well. I'm not talking huge amounts, but just tasting and Wriggles voluntarily putting them in her mouth is such an enormous step. I decided to bite the home cooking bullet today and make some sweet potato chips. To my amazement, as I deposited some on the highchair, Wriggles abandoned the strips of toast she was dribbling on and took one. And put it in her mouth. This was a beautiful moment; it was the first thing I have made she has touched*. Obviously I am delighted she now will try toast and sausages, but was giving up hope of ever being able to nourish her myself! Alright, I know it was just a bit of essentially fried potato. I imagine I could have possibly obtained some from the frozen aisle as the supermarket. But I cooked it. 

It dawned on me that I am enjoying food times with Wriggles. For the last 14 months I have been very much trying to enjoy food times zen to a fine art, but enjoy it? No way. Would you enjoy your offerings refused for months and months? Every day, several times a day no matter what you do with it? Would you enjoy seeing your child make herself sick with distress because she caught sight of a spoon....no not her spoon, your spoon you intend to eat your yoghurt with? Would you enjoy finally revelling in her trust that fromage frais is actually yummy only to see her stomach contents cover the entire kitchen because of one little gag? No, thought not. Live with, yes. Accept, yes. Chill out about, very almost yes. Enjoy? No. But now, now Wriggles is trusting food enough to at least make sensory discovery and her own mind up and at best actually use her oral skills and digest it, now there is variety and her enthusiasm matches my own, now it is fun. Now if she just put on a little bit of weight so I couldn't play the xylophone on her ribs...!

Getting a bit cocky with the "climbing" malarky...

Oh No

Oh no. That time has come. The time to roll out and your best "NO" and really mean it. Every time. Continually. Even when you are shattered and just need some peace.

No.

No.

NO.

I'm practising but it appears to fall on deaf ears. Or works for say, two seconds before the culprit tries to resume whatever has attracted the no in the first place. Wriggles is now just shy of 20 months old, 17 months corrected and developmentally anywhere between 12-17 months depending on which consultant or professional is talking to you. 

She is an absolute titch and is commonly mistaken for having just turned one. This isn't a problem itself, the issue with being small is that when we are in group situations, everyone imagines that she is a younger more fragile baby and their hulking toddler is about to shatter her innocent peace. In the vast majority of cases, Wriggles is always the eldest and is just as likely to swipe whatever they are enjoying and not give it back. When all the babies were younger it didn't seem that important. All babies I have met operate under 'the grass is greener on the opposite side'-whatever your friend has is ALWAYS better even if it is exactly the same. Little baffling babies clonking rattles on each others heads and stealing each others socks is quite sweet. I feel though that me and Wriggles have got to the point where I need to enforce sharing a bit more militantly. In the last week she has tried to push another little girl and grab people's clothing to try and move whoever is in her way to what she wants. She is most of the time a very placid, sociable and sweet-natured little thing and it was a bit of a shock to the system to realise that like every other child, she also has a split personality whereby she can be a terror when she wants to. 

I hope I'm not being blind in that I am sure it is just a phase and not the beginnings of a selfish thug emerging. I am very conscious of the fact that she is and is going to be an only child from a single parent family. Both these things conjure up a stereotype of children who can range from precocious to unruly and have a complete lack of discipline. We all know that things are never this black and white and for every badly-mannered child from such a background there is an angelic one and that any child from any background can grow up into a nightmare that even Super Nanny would shrink from. I so want to get it right; she has been such a good baby so far I do not want to spoil things or her, and by default bring up someone who people will nudge and whisper about and hesitate over inviting to birthday parties.

Wriggles has always been quite bold and happy with rough and tumble. She is only now beginning to have a shy side which is normally only reserved for when she is teething and feels a bit rubbish. She is very much her own person and is resilient and knows what she does and doesn't want. Some things, like feeding, I have to tread carefully over and let time take it's course, but I am wary about applying this approach to everything. Over the last few weeks, I have been watching fellow parents with keen interest to see how they handle stressful situations. Obviously I only have insight into this in public and am only privy to what they choose to share, but it is useful to observe different styles. I have always had a make-it-up-as-you-go-along approach and as both Wriggles and I have been happy coasting along, have been lucky in that setting down a few ground rules and routine and otherwise being fairly laid back has not thrown up any problems. She does not always demonstrate a brilliant grasp of understanding, though is beginning to be more clear in this arena and of course by now I am able to second guess an awful lot and know her inside out. As there is just us in the house, I have for better or worse, a 'what's yours is mine' approach which has been good in building up her confidence to explore things and pique her curiosity which has helped development. Now she is a little older though, I think I am going to have to set out some slightly firmer rules about what is and isn't allowed and try and enforce the concept of sharing and patience. Having no prior experience of children, I have no idea if I am barking up the wrong tree too late or too soon.

All parenting tips welcome on a postcard!